If you’ve never read The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (a medieval Italian author), Dante is literally guided through a Catholic vision of hell (all nine levels) and then through purgatory and into heaven. I enjoyed Hell; it was packed with vignettes of real people and their stories, but Dante forgot one of the most excruciating levels; the Shopping Mall!
The Goblin is having a short holiday break so of course, being a Goblin, he decided yesterday that he needed to go to a shopping mall to see a particular store to handle a particular item to see if he wished to buy it. After an hour in the car we arrived with minimal difficulty. I told the Goblin before we left home that I was tired (very tired) and didn’t want to go. I reminded him that I hate shopping malls, that they never have anything I want or need in a size or colour that I require, but he gave me that cute (I don’t want to go on my own) Goblin look so I gave in and believed his irritatingly cheerful assertions that we’d find something for me too and went along with hope blooming like a weed by the side of a motorway.
He fondled and bought the much desired object (it cost less than the petrol/gas it took to drive there) and then we trundled off to see if we could find me some shirts…or shoes…or something, but no. Apparently that mall (like many others) doesn’t sell clothes for people over size American 12 (that would be an English 14). I saw a cute purse for a nice price, and it came in three colours, all of which were wrong. This is my hell!
Every time I go to a shopping mall it’s a repeating nightmare and I know that if I ever end up in hell, this is where I’ll be…in a shopping mall with money to spend, but no matter how long I wander endless shops filled with merchandise I won’t find anything I like that fits…or if it fits, in the right colour (I’m a Spring – I look best in colours that are bright and clear with yellow undertones). I know…the ticket out of hell is called “diet”. Just diet and then you’ll be able to buy all sorts of lovely clothes…only hell doesn’t work that way or it wouldn’t be called hell! This is the great Fashion conspiracy; as soon as you “thin down” you’ll find that the only clothes you like, the only ones in colours that will look good on you, are the ones being made for the size you were before you thinned down!
As if yesterday wasn’t depressing enough, the Goblin (feeling bad that we couldn’t find anything for me) suggested we drive over to this outlet place that’s not far away to see if we could find me something. I found a funky pair of Cari-shoes that were a lovely golden tan with weirdy shiny bits on them…they didn’t have any in my size.
As we drove away I felt really depressed and fat, but then I reminded myself that I do have a degree in fashion designing…I can make patterns…I can sew…(I just hate it). I’ve tried to find fabric locally, but I haven’t found anything I liked that didn’t cost the earth. As we drove home I decided I’d had it with hell. If it’s going to cost me £25 for decent fabric to make a shirt (that’s like $40), I’m going to order some really lovely fabric online (linen!) and make some funky Cari-clothes. My boring wardrobe won’t survive the shock. I may not survive the shock, but if I die as long as I don’t end up wandering an eternal shopping mall…I’ll be fine!