Earlier this month I had the pleasure of accompanying my best friend on a shopping excursion. She needed work separates, and I needed the exercise. The weather was okay, but iffy (you know the drill: partly cloudy, precipitation coming and going… then coming again, ad infinitum). When she called that morning she proposed heading to the Burlington Mall and I was amenable. It’d been a while since I’d been to T.J. Maxx so I threw in that maybe we could stop there afterwards so I could have a look around.

This is where I fly the flag showing my true colors as a style/bargain shopping geek: I just like looking around. The stuff on the racks and shelves at discount retailers says something about the business cycle. You can see what trends from the previous two or so years took off and which ones went bust. It starts with couture, trickles down to lower price point designer labels, shows up in higher end national retail chains, and is then liquidated so that consumers get the Maxx for the minimum while cheap imitations show up in teen/tween targeted stores. I could get further into the murky waters of the Rashomon sartorial equivalent. I’ll refrain for now since this story is more anecdotal than economic/social commentary.

After I hit the shoe section I wandered over to the mess that is the panty section. Several months ago, while killing time between appointments I happened upon a set of two boyshorts for girls. They would be completely unremarkable but for the mere 2″ of extra fabric at the leg make them great summer jammies. The criteria for that is left over from 4 years of living in college dorms: “If I were stranded outside on the street wearing this at 4am with municipal authorities and everyone I know, how ridiculous would I look?” I haven’t lived with fire alarm pulling infants for 10 years, but somehow that script is still a part of my operating system. It just so happens that these St. Eve jammie-like items are impossible to find elsewhere. (Trust me- I’ve looked.)

Internal monologue: I am writing about underwear shopping semi-publicly beecuuzzz I…
A) have a latent genetic cognitive defect
B) am temporary insane
C) ate one too many twinkies
D) am setting the background for yet another story about how I’m a weirdo magnet
E) all of the above

The answer is E) all of the above, natch. As I scanned the rack for wholesome-cottony-faux-boxer-briefs, I saw a dude at the other end of the aisle glancing from me to the handful of trashy bargain panties, and back again. [Checklist: fly? buttoned. shoe check? toilet paper free. "I'm not looking at you. Please stop looking at me. Are you staring at my maroon smock and nametag? Oh- that's right, I'm not wearing either... 'cause I don't work here. Please go away..."]

Gruff, strange dude: “Wot sy-ze r theese?” He totally interupted my imagining a happy place where there was no big dude with an outstretched hand full o’ cheap thongs.

L’il ole me: “Uh… the tag says medium.” How did I know? What tipped me off? That would be the CAPITAL M.

Pause. Look straight ahead.

This clearly was not over. Strange dude: “How would these fit u?”

Uhhhh… Uhhhh… Uhhh… “Uhhh… too big.”
[Keep looking forward. Slowly move further away.]

So, you might wonder why I answered. (OMG- me too!) My best guess:
1. Delayed reaction. My brain took a vacation and didn’t even get me a lousy T-shirt.
2. Well known fact: do not look crazy in the eye.
3. Never make crazy angry… or pensive… or sad… or annoyed/otherwise irritable.

Just when I thought that it couldn’t get more awkard he held his arm out, started mumbling to himself and holding the panties at arms length while squinting towards me… then the panties… back to me… then the panties. Near as I can tell he was saying something about me being the same as his girl. I choose to believe that he’s talking about the panty size of his girl (“girlnospaceorhyphenfriend” as opposed to “daddy’s little”).

After an eternal minute of being pictured 1/2 naked in a unusual, slightly clinical manner, the strange dude walked away in just as jarring a fashion as he first appeared. Perfect timing: fun as it was, just looking at that black lacy floss was starting to make me chafe.

Figures… I finally meet the man of my nightmares dreams and he’s taken.

Tags: Burlington Mall, designer, looking forward, operating system, retail chains

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