Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Lunchtime Shopping Trip: Anthropologie

On Monday, a co-worker (who was wearing a very nice outfit) tipped me off that stuff was dirt cheap at Anthropologie. Today my friend and I popped in during lunchtime to check out the discounted racks. (I was really in need of some retail therapy and some whole grain goodness--we hit Whole Foods for lunch post shopping.)

There were indeed many many good items on sale. I left with a cropped cardigan in a berry shade (below in green) and a gray embellished tee that I've been hoping would go on sale.

I think I certainly would have found a few more tops if I'd had more time than my lunch hour.

This was not my nicest Anthropologie shopping experience, however. The associate monitoring the dressing room was often missing, so I'd have to stand, my armload of potential purchases growing heavier, waiting for an room to be unlocked. Maybe it's because the store was so empty, but still.

Then the associate who rang me up had trouble with the register and had to start again. Okay, that happens, computers freeze, and that's fine. Then I told her I had my own bag and she gave me the look. I get this look all the time when I whip out my nylon totes at clothing stores. The I'm-sort-of-
confused-and-you're-sort-of-odd look. It's normal to bring bags to grocery stores--no one thinks twice. The stores encourage it with nickels off or raffles (some day I'll win that Trader Joe's gift card--I haven't acquired a bag from that store in a year and a half). But at clothing stores, shoe stores--
pretty much anything in The Mall--they look at me like I'm a weirdo.

Besides the look, I have to tell you that this chick was the worse clothing folder I've ever seen employed at a retail store. She pretty much dumped my items in a heap and wrapped some tissue around them.

The worse part of the shopping experience, however, was that my friend, well, she had to go to the bathroom. And of course they sent her out of the store. I've been in this particular Anthropologie store a number of times and heard shoppers ask for a restroom only to be sent to Coldwater Creek (ew! I will never be old enough to shop there). You know, Anthropologie, if I'm going to patronize your store and pay $88 for a t-shirt, the least you could do is offer a lovely place for me to tinkle.

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