Caftan Shed
Ok, every Thursday I must gain insight from my favorite gazillionaire shopping columnist in the New York Times. Today?s missive, "Seeking Retail Therapy in a Temple of Fashion," had a most enlightening fourth sentence (and final paragraph).
A painfully stylish friend recently stopped by my apartment. Her handbag had broken on the street, and she wondered if I had a shopping bag to hold the contents. Peering into the cabinet where we keep such things, I saw two choices folded on the shelf. I could send her out onto the street in her Chlo platform shoes with a shiny yellow plastic drawstring bag from Dress Barn. Or I could hand her the Platonic ideal of the chic shopping bag, the Taoist uncarved block of retail therapy: the black, boxy, matte-finish Barneys bag. I debated.
Did you catch that? Dress Barn. Could Alex actually possess an item from Dress Barn? Maybe an estranged middle-American cousin left her bag, or the help. Mexicans are nuts for Dress Barn, let me tell you. Though to be honest, I?ve never purchased anything from the DB. I?ve browsed a few in my day, but heck, it?s no Avenue.
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