Clothing sale (noun): An excuse for otherwise sane women to get into fistfights over the last pair of perfect jeans.
Last Saturday, I left Brian at home with Andy and made haste to the Hynes Convention Center. Boden—the British clothing company famous for its jaunty catalogues, bold preppy patterns, and just-out-of-reach prices—held a clearance sale. It commenced at 10. I arrived at 8 a.m., armed with coffee and optimism. By the time I made the scene, a line snaked out the big double doors and down the corridor. Hundreds and hundreds of pastel-clad women (and the occasional guy) sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching iPhones and enormous reusable shopping bags, each waiting for the chance to pay $30 for cashmere sweater dresses. Every once in awhile, a Boden employee waded into the crowd to hock totes. The air was thick with anticipation and Clinique perfume. Basically, it was Woodstock for yuppies.
I haven’t written in a couple of weeks. That’s because I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since approximately mid-July. I’m so tired that I actually mutter “Jordyn Wieber! Justin Bieber!” to myself and break out in chortles. God, I need a nap.FULL ENTRY