My benevolent aunt visits me last week deciding that she wants to spend her soon-to-be-devalued (because our economy barely functions) American Express points at Bloomingdales to buy me some new stylish boots.
I guess my Ugg imitation formerly-black (now grey) moccasins were a cry for help.
One would think this would be a happy story.
WRONG.
Instead, it epitomizes everything I don’t understand about fashion, the world of fashion, and those who work in it.
I’m perusing Bloomingdales, pretending to be a lady, finding things I like left and right. I’m subsequently told that everything I picked out is either
a) out of stock completely or
b) not available in my size
but would I like to see their fresh collection of lovely Gucci resort shoes?
Resort shoes?
Huh?
Yes, there’s still snow on the ground but the world of fashion is always a season ahead.
That’s great for ladies who lunch, can afford the Bahamas, and like to shop for designer bikinis and matching sandals for their August trip to Bermuda in February, ensuring they pay full price for everything, but the rest of us (at least ME) are still shopping for things to wear now. In the snow. I.E. boots.
Instead, all the stylish boots are sold out, purchased by these same types who bought all their winter clothes in July.
Who operates like this? And why can’t Bloomingdales and every other designer in the world keep boots available, I don’t know, at least until then end of February. In August, if lucky, I’m 100% comatose on a beach getting sunburned in a sarong I just bought from the beach vendors who also sell water and coconut snacks. I’m not in some department store thinking about the upcoming frigid winter season and buying overpriced, designer leather boots for this time period.
See, when I open my wallet for something, it’s because I want to wear it out of the store if not immediately that night. I’m looking for instant gratification. It’s called retail therapy. Shopping endorphins. Not, ‘these will be great in November let’s keep them in my closet for six months until Thanksgiving.’ Don’t fashion executives out there know that the average woman is compulsively buying as she goes and not planning ahead like Donatella Versace?
Next, I see an Asian salesgirl wearing the most beautiful black Via Spiga high, baggy-ish boots I’ve ever seen in my life. “Where did you get those!?” I cried, dropping whatever lame sandal I was holding.
“Oh we sold out of these in like, three days. You could check the Via Spiga store though.”
Sold out in three days? And they weren’t getting more?
This makes no sense.
And isn’t it sort of cruel to have the sales girl parading around in them so all your customers are fashion-salivating only to tell them “sorry, you can’t have!”
We found the boots online – sold out. I actually even entered the Via Spiga store to be told they were also “sold out” and they “wouldn’t be ordering more.” “Time for the spring collection,” a sales clerk told me in a ‘duh’ voice.
I. Don’t. Get. It.
I’m offering Via Spiga and its distributors upward of $300 for boots, which I’m sure cost $23 in India to make, and they just won’t take my money. It’s like SHOES are a coveted painting or something. Unless you were first in line to shop for your winter clothes back in June, you just lose out.
Where’s the business sense in this?
If these particular boots sold out of Bloomingdales in three days in New York (and probably everywhere else in America) wouldn’t you realize that you had a hit design on your hands and manufacture a whole bunch more to make that silly little thing known as a ‘profit’?
Isn’t that what everyone who works in fashion’s job is? To buy, create and commission the right amount of stuff in the right sizes? I myself have like 20 friends who claim this is their job. If so, why the miscalculations and why has this simple boot I want, and am willing to pay for, become a collectors item?
Why not order more!?!
Because it’s resort shoe season. That’s why.
I’m left confused, bootless and bitter.
February 2nd, 2009 at 11:18 am
I spent months looking for a good pair of black, low/no-heel, black leather boots back in Fall (when you’d fucking wear this sort of shoe) and could never find anything remotely acceptable. However I did strike gold when I went to London and found the perfect boot at Clarks of all places for the equivalent of like $90, which is a freakin’ steal. Lesson? Try Clarks, even though it has a rep for selling lame granny shoes.
February 2nd, 2009 at 11:40 am
Yeah I think I’m just gona go to Payless. I have weirdly good luck there. Guess those fashion companies just really don’t want my $300 !!!