101 reasons I hate Victoria’s Secret.
Or a few longwinded descriptions. Whatever.
Twice a year for the past (many) years, I looked forward to a big event: the semi-annual sale at VS. In my former life, I had their platinum card and maxed it monthly. I still have stuff I bought there 5+ years ago with the tags on it. Thats some quantity, y’all.
However, I am so much more mature than I used to be! And educated. And older. And lately, more irritable. Along with the gift of maturity, came that of becoming “less endowed” as well. Hey, you win some, you lose some.
And so, you can imagine my surprise when I went into the greatest bra store on earth to find out not only do they not carry my size, but their sales people also have looks of pity that accompany the news upon its delivery. Apparently it is because they are thinking more of the commission they won’t be earning on me that day. Their giggling certainly would not have preempted that news, would it? I didn’t think so either.
I thought I’d try again another day after I learned that they do carry my size in a special section. Nice, huh? So I asked a girl and she got on her official earbud and asked another bragirl – loudly – if they carried it. “No, we dont carry that anymore” she announced – yes, announced. I turned around to look for my husband who had completely bolted in the opposite direction and was standing in the doorway hand in hand with our angelic [read on} children. I thought for sure he would be there to have my back and offer sympathy. Or compassion. Or a “that was just wrong, baby!” kind of thing. Of which I got none because he had completely distanced himself from what evidently he saw coming like an inbound train.
I always loved the semi annual sale. you can get some new pretty stuff, cheap-er than “sale” priced. However, somehow in all my irritability of late, I have found myself completely disgusted at the store. Not only are there rounds upon rounds of under-things, but women crowded around them digging for stuff. Stuff you would wear. They are handling it. Throwing it around. It is like the world’s largest panty raid and inevitably, upon entering you are going to have mental images stuck in your head as you see people sort through and decide on their purchases. I try to get out as quick as I can and never make eye contact with anyone.
I have attempted to save a few bucks this month at the sale, however my kids are not the best shoppers in that store. It is like walking through the door flips a switch on their brains. One child spanks the bottomside of the mannequin. Another likes to feel the material of its bra. I suppose if I had boys doing that, then it would be worse. Regardless, it is a bit awkward to have to tell your kid to stop touching the mannequin inappropriately.
I finally had them standing still as I dug through bins of bras. Next to what I hoped might be my size if I found the right style, a 14 year old girl, digging in a bigger sized bin declared “Mommy! Look how cute this one is! Can I get it?” I could have thrown up right there in that bin of overpriced bras. How could that little girl be fitting that stuff? Life seems unfair some days. I left.
After an especially trying afternoon with the kids yesterday, I got a babysitter so I could go out and attempt some shopping alone. And by attempt, I mean, see if VS was more tolerable without kids or if my opposition for digging for the right size & style was pretty much just that.
I must be fly-paper to 14 year old girls because there I stood, diggin through bins yet again, listening to a “little girl” shop right next to me as her mom and younger sister gave her advice on which were “cuter” and she gave an entire rundown of her opinions of fashion for said item. And seriously, her choices were much more than “cute” if you know what I mean.
I stood there and suffered through her commentary because being a birthday girl this month, I had a ten-dollar off coupon for my purchase. I’d already attempted to shop there 3 times this month with kids. If I walked away today with nothing, I was giving up altogether.
Eventually I made it to the checkout, choices in hand, and after politely refusing the Angels credit card, I gave her my “Birthday Wish” discount card. “That isn’t valid on special priced items.” “Special priced? Like ‘sale’ items?” “Yeah, you have to buy something … not on sale to use that.” “Full priced?” “Yeah.”
Well color me stupid. I thought for sure they just wanted business these days, but evidently the 14 year olds are the real prized customers. Someone please tell me why it is so important for a kid – because they are kids – to wear underthings I never dreamed of laying eyes on until I was ready to get married?
I must be old. Or old-fashioned. Which my mother would appreciate.
So because I’m irritable and I know it (clap your hands), I’m going to share a tidbit of information with you that I learned a while back; their bras are made by the same people who also supply bras to another store you frequent. I know this based on two things: a “bra engineer” from the manufacturer in a not so far away land, and a saleswoman at another store who divulged to me that she’d had shipments for VS delivered to her incorrectly labeled. It’s no secret, it’s all the same, y’all.