Sam Moon opened a store in San Antonio this year. All of my friends were beside themselves with ecstasy.
"You have to go there! They have the coolest stuff! You just will not believe it!" They all gleefully told me. For years, since this store was open in Dallas and Houston for some time. Last week I finally went to Sam Moon. My friends recommended the place so highly! It must be a great place, and I didn't want to disappoint my friends. I walked through the door...
Row upon row of handbags, satchel, totes, purses, luggage. Aisles of bracelets, rings, necklaces, watches, wallets, shoes, hair ribbons...
All sorts of colors, piled high. All sorts of styles, right there. Shiny. Blingy. Sleek. Elegant. Bridal. Evening. Casual.
But what in the heck is a 'bag charm'?
Around me, women were losing their minds. One older woman stepped past me with at least ten handbags clutched in her hands and over her shoulder; she was actually 'squeeeing' like a teenager. Other women were grabbing fists full of scarves, or earrings, and there was some sort of a ruckus in the shoe department.
I walked around. I observed. I felt like I was visiting an alien planet.
I thought about buying a watch, because it is useful, and mine died.
There were hundreds of watches, of every shape, color, and size that anyone in the history of the world might have thought of. I think that they even had a little sundial watch, but I may have imagined that. I could have had a nice purple watch, since purple is my favorite color. I could have had a purple watch with an enlarged dial, so I could easily see what time it was. I could have purchased a different color or style of watch for every day of the week, if I had so desired.
Except that I didn't desire. Nothing in that store really got my attention, and I felt a bit awkward about it.
Just once I'd like to look at a pair of shoes and feel that elation, that excitement. Other women look at shoes and get excited. I look at shoes and while I might think they are pretty, I mainly look at how high the heel is and consider the potential for ankle injury. I also look at the price; because why would I pay someone hundreds extra for the express purpose of advertising their product, just because it has their name on it? Their name doesn't necessarily make it a better shoe, right? I won't buy anything with someone's name plastered all over it. Sorry, Louis Vuitton--I think you should pay ME to cart your luggage around.
See? Practical. Not girlie.
I don't like frills. I don't like frou frou. I don't like bows or ribbons. My nails are often messy. I forget to get my haircut in a timely fashion. And I loathe pink, except in very small doses.
But maybe that is okay, these days. The time I grew up was very gender specific. Girls liked dolls and playing house, and boys got to do everything else. It's not like that anymore. Nowadays girls are playing with Legos, climbing trees, and doing tricks on skateboards instead of only playing with dolls. It's a new world, where everyone doesn't have to fit in the same mold to be who they are.
I don't have to be girlie. I just have to learn to accept that I'm not girlie, and move on.