Tuesday, September 27, 2011

524. Betsey Johnson and The Lamborghini

I work at the high-end kitchen store, which is located in the Really Expensive Mall. We have stores like Cartier and Fendi and Chanel … and that’s just in the food court. What struck me as a teensy bit odd the other day was the Lamborghini parked inside next to Starbucks.

That’s right: inside. Not in the handicapped spot or in the yellow zone, or even on the actual sidewalk, but in the mall. I soon realized that it was the Really Expensive Mall’s answer to the kiosk. Other malls have impulse buys like Pillow Pets, Ice-Cream Dots, and Bead-A-Necklace; we have cars that cost more than my house.

So I walked past the stop-sign red (oh, the irony!) Lamborghini parked inside and who did I see flouncing along but Betsey Johnson. Okay, it wasn’t really Betsey Johnson, it was a girl who works in her store. This is what she was wearing to go to work:

She looked like Theatrical Barbie come to life. Her skirt was made of see-thru tulle, like a ballerina skirt. There were fake flower petals sewn into the hem. Her top was sequin-y and her shoes were taller than most catwalks. The whole mall, in fact, was her personal catwalk.

Instantly, maybe sooner, I became painfully self-conscious and regretful of my pathetic outfit, which I had thought (in my middle-aged stupidity) was a perfectly good idea for the high-end kitchen store.

I was cursing myself for not adding the sparkley barrette as I had initially intended. What. Was. I. Thinking.

Betsey Johnson Girl probably ate sparkley barrettes for breakfast. Her taste was the polar opposite of mine, wait—not even polar opposite: galaxy opposite.

I stood gawking at Betsey Johnson Girl, wondering if she got her Hollywood-Paris-Barbie clothes and make-up for free from working there or if she was just sort of, you know, born with them already attached.

Imagine my surprise when she addressed me.

“Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am?”

I glanced around. I was the only one there, so she had to be talking to me.

“Yes?” I squeaked.

“I love your skirt.”

Huh? Was she mocking me? Why would she love my skirt? My antique brain realized that there was a moment hanging there, hanging in the air like a stray sequin. I needed to say something back to Betsey Johnson Girl, something nice about her shoes or purse or …

“Car. I love your car.” I nodded toward the Lamborghini. She laughed, getting my attempt at a joke. 

Turns out, we had exactly the same taste after all.

(“Magic Of Vroom”)


  1. You could have said "I like your shoes," because they were SO TALL that they were all you could see of her and if you didn't hate them, you liked them. a bit. EXAGGERATE.

    -Motaki, Aspiring Falconer and Macintosh Disapproving (more accurately, Parental Controls, go PCs!)

  2. A girl can never own enough sparkly bareettes. It's a fact of life, my friend.
    Little Miss Betsy Johnson will have serious back problems in old age from those sky-high heels: mark my words. You will be tall, straight-spined, and sensible!

  3. Ooops, there's my Wednesday typo. In addition to the necessary glittery hair decorations, a girl can never have enough "bareettes," either, which is a Southern Texas term for nachos, chicken wings, and deep-fried cheese, in the past tense.

  4. Motaki, I am 5'8". I used to think that was the perfect height........ that is, until I lived in Los Angeles for 7 years and began to be referred to by all my friends and neighbors as "the short one". FIVE FOOT EIGHT IS TALL, PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!! I am now coming to terms with the fact that the Betsey Johnson shoes, had they been introduced to me at that time in my life, would have catapulted my writing career to the next level. Big sigh. (and catch those birds, Girlfriend! I think we have a small hawk living in our yard, do they come in small sizes?)

    Kay, I am sensible, true (except when I am having a Virgo Moment, see next blog!!).

    and only a Wesdnesday typo? I like to ahve a typo daiyl if I can manage, sometmies more.......


  5. Does the Fendi In the food court sell Fendi Burgers I love those!


  6. Well, was it your Nordstrom skirt?

    5'11" and still working the heels

  7. L, of course Fendi burgers! and then Chanel sundaes for dessert!

    Lunch Lady, you know it. and worth every penny of that $129 (on sale from $375 originally, did you notice the handknit scalloped detailing at the hem in my Picasso-worthy sketch?). And you be tall! I had a friend (a girl) who was 6 feet tall and told everyone she was 5 foot 12.



When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)