Shopping

Shopping is on the bottom of my list of things to do, especially for clothing.

Now don't get me wrong, I go to the grocery store everyday to purchase food stuffies to maintain my living and breathing, but that's just habit now.

No, going out of my daily routine to shop is unappealing to me. I think it started when I was young and my mother would take me downtown to the dual department stores and wander around for hours touching clothes, hats, perfumes, shoes, and the worst of all, trying clothes on. I was not fond of going into the dressing room, taking off my clothes behind a curtain, then walking out in front of a group of mirrors while the salesman ran his hand all over my body while my mother watched smoking a cigarette. Of course, the first set of clothes never fit right, so I had to repeat the process until we either got tired or the salesperson found just the right size. This was not what I wanted to do on a Saturday.

When I started buying my own clothes, I got a list of the sizes I wore and stuffing dollars in my pocket, when to the local mall to find trousers. I don't remember shirts being a problem because they were folded with the size marked so they were easy to select. What I didn't know was the next sizes, so I would pick a blue shirt or a blue strip shirt with the right sleeve length but a collar that was too tight or too loose. Then clothes started to look strange in magazines. My favorite rock groups, which I wanted to imitate, wore clothes that looked like hand-me-downs or thrift clothes, which they were, but I could not find anything similar in the fine men section, so I had to search for a new fashion outlet.

I crossed the main dividing line between the black and white shopping areas and found a new source of clothing that didn't look like anything else I'd ever seen. Wild colors, strange fabrics, and unique designs. I started buying pants that didn't fit right, but looked cool. Patterns that never matched became my wardrobe.

There were still my "conservative" school clothes, but by the time I went to college, they were put to the back of the closet.

Then the work-a-day world made me compromise to ties and jackets, but I still wore black shirts and corduroy and some very loud jackets. Luckily double knit became popular at the same time with the "normals" so I didn't look too out of place.

Now those clothes are in the back of the closet or the trash and I can wear whatever is comfortable. Sweats, sports shoes, t-shirts, and jeans are the uniform of the day. Pile them in a corner and just throw on what isn't too dirty and smelly.

But now and then, I need to replace worn out underwear or shoes that have lost their bounce after 365 days of constant wear or even a new pair of jeans since I wear out their crouch once a year riding my bike.

So it's off to check out the racks. If I can't find my size, I get whatever is close. If there are several items that fit my list, I check prices. Sometimes I check out the products then leave the store to mull over if I really need to buy that or should I rethink the purchase of new clothing until the present pair have worn completely out.

Then I shop like a guy.

Grab a basket, go to the jeans and throw a pair in, go to the socks and throw a pair in, get confused about the underwear, then throw a pack of four in, grab a pair of sweat pants that look like they are long enough for a basketball player and throw them in the basket. The whole operation takes about 30 minutes. I never look at pots and pans or electronics or garden supplies or dog toys or pens and paper or greeting cards or jewelry. I get what I "need" and get out of there.

Phew, now I've done my clothing shopping until spring when I'll "need" some more shorts and white socks, but I'm set for winter.

Glad that's over.