What I Missed

I know I was supposed to be pining for my friends and family during the recent covid "confinement," but, the truth is, I saw everybody on zoom more often than I had ever seen them in the pre-plague era. What I was pining for was shopping. And the stores were shuttered. You can't imagine how greatly I suffered. I'm a competitive bargain shopper. If they handed out trophies for the best in Manhattan, I would be be in the top three. I'm not bragging; just being honest. For those of you who do not know the skill set of a competitive bargain shopper, let me enlighten you. You must have the will to buy anything that appears to be an incredible bargain, provided it costs no more than fifteen dollars. You must have faith that you will find a use for the purchase. You must be willing to buy something every day. And you must NEVER buy at full price. Like any sport, competitive bargain shopping requires innate ability, but it also requires a knowledge of the rules and constant practice. My mother was an excellent tutor. When I was 20, I went to the fruit store with her. I was on a diet and, as a treat,I could have a daily orange. Naturally, I wanted the biggest orange. The big oranges were two for a dollar. The small oranges were five for a dollar. I took a big orange. "Why are you being that orange?" "I want a big orange." "But it's not fresh." "How do you know it's not fresh?" "It has to have been there for weeks. No one would buy oranges at two for a dollar when they could buy them at five for a dollar." She had a point. My mother was so focused on price, that sometimes she lost sight of the big picture. When I first moved to The Village many years ago, I took my mother, my father and my aunt on a tour of the neighborhood. A mandatory stop was The Erotic Bakery. It was a tiny store, ten feet by fifteen feet. Its display cases were filled with penis cakes from large to painfully large and breast cakes from D cup to double F. I knew my aunt and mother would love it. I knew my father would hate it, so Daddy and I stayed outside while my mother and aunt went in. Twenty minutes later, they emerged. "Well, what did you think?" I asked. "I never saw such prices," my mother said, Aunt Ruth nodding her assent. Did they notice the penises or breasts? No. It was the price tag. I thought everyone shopped by price. Price determines desirability was the cardinal rule. A work colleague asked me to go shopping with her one lunch hour. She needed a white blouse. We went to a small boutique near the office. She pulled a blouse off the rack, took it to the register and said to the cashier, "How much is it?" When we left the store, I asked,"Didn't you look at the price before you decided to buy it?" "No, why would I? I wanted the blouse." I thought she should be committed. Although my mother's home schooling provided a sound basic education, it was not until I met my friend and mentor, CS, that I truly honed my skills. At our first meeting, I noticed that her expensive monogrammed oxford shirt, bore the initials ML. Fine initials but not hers. Having just met her, I refrained from commenting. When I had earned her trust, she confided that she shopped in thrift shops. Through her revelation, I was born again. In Lord and Taylor,on the clearance rack, a 15% off coupon in hand, I was a size 8 petite. In a thrift shop, I was any size and no size. We were at the Cancer Care Thrift Shop on 3rd Avenue and 83rd Street. "Look at this Ann Taylor blouse," CS shouted to me from across the store. "Nice. What size is it?" Five Dollars." "Yes, but what size is it?" "Five Dollars." I bought it. The silk paisley Galliano dress was a size 14. New, it would have been $1200. It was hanging in Cancer Care with a green price tag marked $30. A small sign on the store's door said,"All green tags-50% off." I tried it on. The sleeves were a little long. I rolled them up. The dress was shapeless and so long that in the back , it dragged on the floor, but in the front, hiked up by my breasts, it skimmed my ankles. "CS, what do you think?" "How much is it?" "Fifteen dollars." "I think it looks great. Take it." The only problem with following the cardinal rule of price determining desirability is that it is possible to end up with a warehouse of items that don't fit, are ugly and that you have no use for. Did I mention the shopping bag in my closet filled with forty three adorable Christmas ornaments purchased at a sample sale? Did I mention that I'm Jewish and have no tree? I actually resisted going to the ornament sale. CS had extolled it for years, but I was steadfast. What would I do with Christmas ornaments. Then, I cracked. I went. God, were they cute and $1.25 each. Even though the the crosses were beautiful, I mustered the fortitude and resisted them. I bought only Santas and secular ornaments. Well, as secular as Christmas ornaments can be. These last ten weeks have been hard on me. I've shopped--but only for groceries, which was some salve, but not much. How excited can you get at a bargain on a cantaloupe? I don't want to seem like a complainer. I'm truly grateful and happy that neither I , my friends or family have gotten sick. And I hope that remains the case. But I'm also delighted that my favorite stores are now open again and I can resume the sport at which I excel.