It's a Gift

I am a shopper. Guilty as charged.

I like a good sale. I enjoy browsing solo, fingering all of the fabrics, trying on clothes, imagining all the places I'd wear them. I love jewelry and shoes and purses and coats. I enjoy the feeling of bringing home bags full of bargains, pulling them all out and laying them on the bed. I immediately hang up new items, taking pleasure in how they'll look when paired with old pieces.

However, this time of year, the shopping turns outward.

Not that I don't give gifts throughout the months, but this season I really do enjoy thinking not of myself, but of what those in my life want, and wouldn't buy for themselves. There's nothing quite like the feeling of knowing you've selected just the right gift, and watching that person open it with glee. I get a certain sparkle in my eye as I witness someone enjoying the present that was selected just for them.

I think it is funny how when someone is opening your gift, you get all nervous. People tend to get a little apologetic, even before you've gotten it out of the tissue paper. Have you noticed that? You know, "well, I just thought you may like it, but if you don't, there's a receipt inside and you can take it back, no hard feelings, I promise." They hardly breathe, and it is one giant run-on sentence.

The truth is, just having someone go to all that trouble is enough. It is flattering to think that they took the time to choose, buy, and gift wrap something with you in mind.

At our unwrapping ceremony, which we've somehow managed to make last about four hours, complete with mimosas and a breakfast casserole break, my Dad undoubtedly sticks a bow to his head, with a totally straight face. Last year, George's first Christmas with our family, when he put a bow on his head, I knew he was the one for my sister.

One of my favorite parts of the holiday shopping season is all of the secrets. The projects, mentally plotted and meticulously crafted, all designed to fit that certain person's character. The gifts, thought-out, budgeted for, and purchased with just one person in mind. The boxes, stuffed full and gift wrapped carefully (though it's not my greatest skill) with names attached for Christmas morning.

I keep a list each year, in this flimsy little notebook, of each person on my Christmas list, and what I have bought for them. It's a tally, of sorts, to make sure everything is kept fairly even (and to make sure that my Dad doesn't get pajama pants every year). I tend to spoil my family, as I just go overboard in finding lovely things that I just know they'll adore.

This year, which will come as no surprise, we've all committed to "take it easy" and "pare down" and "go light" on the gift giving. My family has hosted a wedding, and several trips, quite a few parties and showers and 30th birthday parties and other festivities, so we're all tightening our wallets.

Or so we say.

It can't be helped, really. It's not about the money for me. I just love giving gifts.

My family has never been one to draw names, or just give one present per person. Our tree, quite frankly, on Christmas morning, looks like something that belongs in a mall. With a fake Santa seated on a plush club chair nearby. See?

That doesn't really even do it justice. What you can't see, off to the left, is the 50 other gifts hiding under the base of the tree. The poor nutcrackers and reindeer that decorate the base of the steps in the foyer are just about drowning in there.

I can't wait.

Let the projects, secrets, sales and list-making begin.

I'm in the spirit.

Swap and Sweat

Last night I hosted my first swap party. A sweaty one, but a swap nonetheless.

The idea was generated as my co-worker and friend Meredith and I flew home from one of our many business trips, with that month's issue of Real Simple in our laps. The suggestion was a recession friendly one - have a gaggle of girls over, ask them to bring between 7 and 10 items of clothing or housewares that they like, but no longer wear/use, and share them with the other guests.

As we compiled our guest list, the numbers of possible attendees topped 15 girls - we knew lots of ladies who seemed to fit the bill between us. We added her friend Rachel to the mix as a co-host, and all of a sudden we had a plan. We crafted an invitation and sent it out to our friends.

With the crazy travel schedule that Meredith and I deal with, and the fact that we work together and often have to go to New Jersey together, we had to reschedule the party more than once. Finally, the date worked for all of us, and it was set.

As I changed over my closet from winter clothing to spring/summer clothes, the bag of giveaways and give-to-friends items became larger and larger. In fact, I had collected WAY more than the recommended 7-10 items. Never fear, I felt confident that the party would be a success.

And then, as you read, my air conditioning unit in my living room went out unexpectedly on Saturday. Unfettered, I bought a $15 box fan from CVS, opened the windows, and opened my front door.

At 6:45 tonight, the doorman announced my girls had arrived. Well, not MY girls, but Meredith and Rachel's girls. My friends' schedules were all of a sudden as crazy as mine - with deadlines, work functions, sailing events and freelance jobs, the list had dwindled down to six attendees, none of whom I knew before except Meredith.

They all walked into my sweltering living room with loads of stuff. And immediately flew into action. While I uncorked the wine and served the cold beverages, the girls dove into action, sorting the clothing by style (tops over here, skirts over here, jeans over here, and shoes lined up against the wall here) and laid out the items on every available space in my 1,000 square foot condo. Before I could even pour six glasses of chilled wine, the "store" was ready for shopping.

We realized, at this moment, that the chatter had not even paused, and that everyone was socializing at a rapid, frenetic pace you don't often find at girls' functions where not everyone knows each other. We believed, at that moment, that we'd solved the "networking challenges" of social outings - throw a bunch of girls in a room with wine and tell them that they get to give away stuff they don't want and they can take home more than one thing they do want? And, they're all suddenly insta-friends.

Now, let me remind you - this was not unlike any typical shopping adventure. You had to first browse, then take a few items into the bedroom and try them on and come out and model them for everyone else to vote on. And, you had to spin in front of the full-length mirror a few times first.

Need I remind you that my air conditioning wasn't working? And that it was 90 degrees with a blazing hot sun setting over the western sky? Yes. It was brutally hot, and these new friends were too kind, and far too polite, to embarrass me with their sweat. Everyone just brushed off the glistening parts and kept moving.

By the end of the fourth round, taking turns by number, we had each amassed about 6 or 7 things that we got to keep - in exchange for things that we were thrilled to see find a new owner and a new future home. We bragged about our clothes, and told stories of their wear. We sampled each other's items, and oohed and aahed when the right item landed on the right body.

I have to admit - I wish I were a few sizes smaller with much smaller feet - because this was some kind of grab 'n go. There were designer jeans, clothes with tags still on, hip and trendy choices and even a few good "church dresses" and "work outfits" to grab onto.

Overall, it was a hit.

The pizza delivery guy looked quizzically at me as I stood in the doorway, refusing to open it too wide for fear of showing him a REAL SIGHT of several hot, sweating girls in various states of undress. The neighbors in the building to the north of me likely got a real show tonight - as we all grew more comfortable, it became like the Filene's Basement tag sale - girls stripping down to their skivvies in the middle of the living room - lost wine glasses sweating on side tables and pizza long since forgotten.

The long and the short of it was that we all got a few new things, emptied our closets of those "guilty items" that never got worn, and the Salvation Army will get two ENORMOUS bags of very nice donations when I can finally drag the leftovers to the store for a drop-off and tax write-off. And, we all made new friends (which we've all seen now in our underwear, so that already levels the playing field).

As for the leftover pizza? When I stop sweating, I may consider eating that for dinner tomorrow night.

Just to ensure that I'll never fit in the clothes that show up at the next swap party, for certain.

The air conditioner saga will be resolved on Friday, when the ABT delivery guy comes to install my new wall unit - which, much to my dismay - is significantly more expensive than your typical window unit.

But the chilly temps that will follow are sure to make the wine and the various states of undress all that more delicious.

I told you I was back.

Not on Target (aka Bump 'N Grind)

In the spirit of confessions below, I figured it couldn't hurt to share this one. It may not make you laugh quite like it did for me, but here's a shot.

I had the most embarrassing cart today in Target.

Running errands after work, I grabbed a shopping cart to carry what I knew would be two large items - toilet paper and paper towels. As a single woman, I don't go through these as fast as most families, but I still prefer to buy in bulk, what with the cost savings and all.

I start towards the paper goods section, and realize that my cart has an attitude.

A bad attitude.

It didn't want to go left. It didn't like going right. It had no intention of going straight.

And it complained, loudly, the entire time.

The loudest, squeakiest, strangest noises emitted from this plastic monster. I should have turned right around and put it back in the rack with the rest of 'em.

But, no, I'm just stubborn enough to think I'm going to make it stop. Coerce it into silence. Have my way with it.

Yeah...no.

I proceed to stubbornly (who's stubborn now?!) manipulate, loudly, this ridiculous excuse for a shopping cart all the way around my two-story Target store.

Oh, it gets worse.

Since it was right at 6 pm (I had worked from home today, getting a jump-start on my errands), the store wasn't crowded yet. Translate that to mean - it was quiet.

I maneuvered, loudly, the long distance from paper goods, through shoes (a girl's gotta look!), past accessories (looked the other way) to the cart escalator. I hoped that the enormous piece of mechanic marvel would teach the little cart a thing or two about being well-behaved.

Yeah...no.

I grab the cart, sheepishly, and careen, loudly, toward the grocery aisle.

People were staring. Really. I felt like I had to apologize. Out loud.

I kept uttering, "I know! It's so loud." And, "I'm sorry, just heading this way with my obnoxious cart!" and "It sounds like it is going to explode, doesn't it?" to several passerby. They just stared. At me, and at the offending cart.

It gets worse.

So, on Level 1, I had puttered and noisily bumped past the first floor team meeting. All seven red-golf-shirt khaki-pants-wearing employees turned, slowly, one by one, to identify the source of the noise.

That would be me. And my ride.

When I'd escaped to Level 2, and had dodged mommies and children (who were scared, hiding behind mommy's legs), I made it to the grocery aisle, my final destination, and pulled the plastic and metal hunk-of-junk to a stop.

A quiet stop.

Not before the entire gang of men's and electronics employees had their stare at me. Seriously, those red and khaki people are so judgy.

And, just to the left of the milk case, a woman had the audacity to say to me, "Why didn't you just get a new cart?"

I wanted to, really. I did!

But after you've started in one direction in Target, it is just a huge mistake to turn around. If you do, you'll end up spending $200 on stuff you just don't need but really had to have.

And if I didn't have a cart, I'd have to be physically reminded of the fact that I'm living alone, with no one to help me carry the big stuff, as I stumble and tumble from the toilet paper right over to the feminine aisle. At least I'm not buying cat food.

How do you explain that to a total stranger?

I'd rather have a cart I can't control.

All Dressed Up with Nowhere to Go

This one is for the ladies. And, only the ladies, I fear.

(sorry guys)

Gals, not to be crass, but do you ever splurge so much on one item that you have to plot out how to wear it as many times possible to maximize the longevity of it and to minimize the cost-per-wearing?

Yep. That'll be me. I bought the most beautiful dress at Nordstrom last week, shown below. I don't want my mother to know exactly how much I spent, so I pulled the image from the designer's website.

I will get to don it a few times: first to my friends' wedding in Mackinac Island, Michigan in a few weeks. Second, I'll just HAVE to wear it to the formal wedding I'm attending with Brett in September at the Hotel Intercontinental here in Chicago.

Okay. So that is twice. The cost-per-wearing is still a tad on the high side for this bargain shopper. What now?

Do I start wearing it to work? To the office holiday party? Bowling? To the movies? Show up at the local dive bar in my black taffeta cocktail dress?

I just might.

I will say this, however, about Nordstrom's dress department. I had the absolute best shopping experience there I've ever had. Yes, she managed to get me to more than double my "budget" for the dress (yeah, I'm a real tough sell), but she somehow made the whole process fun.

Which says a lot, considering at one point I was squeezing myself into a borrowed pair of Spanx nude-colored, knee-length strangulation tights in order to smooth the bumps under one satin number she'd brought me.

Tangent alert: How do women wear those things? I turned blue from the waist up, I feel certain, from those things squeezing my thighs. And, the crotch hole? Just unladylike if you ask me. The nude hue does nothing for my complexion, and the NASA-developed space-leotard fabric just pushed all the excess fat above and below the Spanx, which was entirely unpleasant to both the eyes and the legs. Yes, I'll concede that they are a Godsend for some outfits, but I wouldn't have been able to consume a cocktail, much less dinner, if I was strapped into them. And, what's a wedding without enjoying some free drinks and food?

Back to the dress in question. So, I love it. And, it does NOT require any Medieval skin-gripping torture devices underneath in order to fit well and feel good. I swore I'd never buy another black dress, but this one has just that right amount of pizzaz and uniqueness to stand out just a little without calling too much attention away from the inevitably stunning bride. Best of all, I already have the shoes and the bag.

And, I emailed the salesgirl the following morning, when, to my dismay, I noticed on the designer's website (while showing the excellent purchase to my friend Katie) that they were running a 15% promotion off all dresses for the weekend, and she immediately (no questions asked) credited my account for the total 15%. What a gal!!

Working in marketing, I know that consumerism and shopping in general is almost entirely driven by the "brand experience" and I thanked her for continuing to make mine a great one. She knows she cemented my loyalty as a Nordstrom shopper, and I sent her boss an email bragging about her. And he actually responded. I know how important this stuff is, and wanted to do my part as the shopper on the good end of a customer service experience.

Because, after getting rudely treated at any number of stores while spending your hard-earned cash there, isn't it nice to experience someone who loves their job, is good at it, and makes you feel glad you stopped in? I think so, too.

Maybe I'll wear the dress over to thank her? That would bring me to three total showings, reducing my cost-per-wearing to something I can almost bear.

It's Serious Out There

As a follow up to yesterday's post "Not So Magnificent," I just ran some last minute, lunch time errands on Michigan Avenue to finish my holiday shopping...

...brief celebration for THAT right here...

and realized that the melting snow/ice from the buildings is really gettin' serious out there.

It was like one giant game of Frogger—using real life tourists!

And, it is the best social analysis of the psychology of mob activity. If one person looks up, then everyone begins to look up.

Don't these people realize that if they look UP, then snow falling will hit them directly in the FACE?

I'd say keep your Frogger head down, and move quickly. When in doubt, carry a child on your shoulders for protection.

I'm just saying...

Not So Magnificent

So I was just escaping the work grind for a short break at the food court at Nordstrom, just down the Magnificent Mile from my office. After a quick lunch, I walked toward the front doors only to realize that there were cops there, blocking all traffic from exiting. Not one to miss a moment of the action, I stuck around long enough to realize they were shuttling all holiday shoppers out other exits, but you absolutely were not able to use the Michigan Avenue-facing revolving doors.

Normally, a girl with an affinity for shopping would love the opportunity (or excuse!) to be stuck inside a sale-laden, holiday-decorated retail venue, but this time was just plain baffling. You mean I can't leave? Mustn't return to work?

They had roped off the outside entrance and there were huge shards of ice laying broken in pieces on the sidewalk, surrounded by crowds looking up.

Apparently the sun had warmed the ice on the roof just enough to send it crashing to the pavement down below. This happens a lot here, and there was even a death a few years ago when a woman was hit by a huge slice of ice from above.

Who knew shopping could be such an adventure sport?