Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

The town right next to the one where I grew up is called Chevy Chase. Yeah, like the actor/comedian. A few years ago, some luxury retailers and real estate developers decided it would be a good idea to erect among the most high-end of high-end shopping centers in the country in the middle of Chevy Chase, flanked by Saks on end and a fancy shmanzy restaurant on the other.

This small but imposing shopping center houses no less than the likes of Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dior, Barney's, Ralph Lauren, Tiffany, and Bulgari, to name a few. Some call it "The Rodeo Drive of Chevy Chase."

A few weeks ago, while home for my mom's birthday, I took a quick stroll through many of Rodeo's shops to "do research." As I was walking through the beautiful valuted ceilings, plush carpeting, and heavily guarded front doors, I wondered if Louis Vuitton had somehow become a portal to a decimated ghost town in the old west, circa 1890.

For, you see, I was the only shopper in sight.

Sometimes I hate being the only person in a high-end store; I can practically feel the store associates judging me with their superior, smug, and snooty attitudes. This time, however, i hated it for a different reason: the smell of desperation in the air.

Oh, those poor, poor associates. Every time I walked into a new store, they swarmed like bees. Did I want to see anything? Could they help me with anything? Would I like to see that shoe in my size? It was as uncomfortable as taking the 6 train during rush hour. But at the same time, my heart went out to them.

In Dior, the CDBee Cannage Deerskin Tote immediately caught my eye. Simple, stylish, and a little bit sparkly - in all, a beautiful bag. A store associate noticed my interest, and the following conversation ensued:

Associate: It's beautiful, isn't it.

Shannah: Yes.

A: It's made out of deerskin. It's going to be a very popular bag this season, a best seller.

S: Oh really, interesting.

A: I don't have any in storage right now, but...

S: Oh, that's ok, I'm not going to buy it.

A: ...but I could easily transfer one in from a nearby store.

S: Thanks for offering, but I don't think I can buy it right now.

A: Well, I'll have it transferred, just in case.

S: That's not necessary. I don't live here.

A: Well, just in case - I'll have it transferred for you. It's a beautiful bag.

The exchange continued, and even though I hade made it abundantly clear that I was never in a million years going to purchase the bag, the associated insisted, even as I was walking out the front door, that she would have it transferred "just in case."

I don't think I'll go back there.

In case you are wondering which bag caused all the fuss, a photo (notice the bee key chain, my fave feature):