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New Blue Shoes

New Blue Shoes

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Every year or so I buy myself some new tennis shoes. I usually reprise whatever make and model I’m currently wearing, as long as it fits and has held up to my daily battering. Which means that I don’t choose by color, only by comfort.

Some years I end up with garish purples and greens. Others with white. But this year, I hit the jackpot: a pastel beauty that’s mostly the color of sky, with just a hint of aquamarine.

The minute I saw these I thought they should be Celia’s — my youngest daughter loves this color and looks great in it. It wasn’t until yesterday that I realized there’s also a connection with my middle daughter, Claire. One of her favorite books growing up was New Blue Shoes by Eve Rice.

The book is about a shoe-shopping expedition and a little girl who knows what she wants — new shoes, blue shoes, new blue shoes — and will have no other. A perfect favorite for Claire, who has always known what she wants, whether it’s pink stiletto heels or a new puppy.

I like my new blue shoes, even though I didn’t fight for them. Maybe I should have!

Boxes!

Boxes!

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It’s not exactly to the break-even point yet, but I’m definitely ordering more holiday gifts online this year, and my sister is, too. So based on this highly unscientific sampling of two, I think there’s a trend here.

(I’m not so far off on this trend definition. When I wrote pieces for women’s magazines, a “trend” was something that you and a couple of your close friends were noticing — after which you dug up enough evidence to convince your editors it was really happening.)

But, back to this year’s shopping stats, I do have real, tangible proof: the piles of boxes in front of the houses in my neighborhood.

Usually you see lots of boxes after the holidays, not before. But no more.

‘Tis the season for FedEx and UPS and even the lowly ole US Post Office — and the containers they leave behind. They’re making the Yuletide jolly. And easier, too.

Shopping at Night

Shopping at Night

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A window of time opened up, a confluence of hour and place. I understood what I had to do and when I had to do it. So I followed vague directions to the outlet shops I knew were there in theory but had never reached from that starting point.

And when I got there the sun was setting, a disc on fire slipping behind the faux roofs. I watched it slide away, assembled my list, had a bite to eat and gathered my courage.

It was a quiet evening. Who shops on Friday night? People like me, I realized. Women with determination in their eyes and lists in their hands. As the evening wore on, not just lists but shopping bags, too.

There comes a point in the season when you are finally into it. You have gone too far not to be. From here there will be tree-cutting, hauling and decorating. There will be more shopping (I hope not too much more!),  There will be baking and card-writing and stocking-hanging and all of it, right up to the cacophony of Christmas morning.

‘Tis the season, you know.

Mall Walking

Mall Walking

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It wasn’t premeditated, I swear, but when I found myself at the mall last evening with weather too dark and foggy for outdoor strolling, I thought … why not?

I turned around in the hallway, swung by Sears and the CVS. Before I knew it I was striding past Hollister, up and down the short Macy’s hall, then out again into the main space where Santa sits. I passed the Apple store, the Talbots and the Williams and Sonoma.

It wasn’t exactly Fifth Avenue, but I was speeding through what passes for commerce and public space in my part of the world.

How strange to fast-walk halls so often clogged with window shoppers and pre-teens. It was empowering. I had no intention of buying anything. I was, in a strange sort of way, beating the system.

Is this what all mall walkers feel? If so, bring it on!

Adding and Subtracting

Adding and Subtracting

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So what does the non-shopper do on Black Friday? It’s a question I ask myself every year.

Today, there’s an ironic answer. I’ve already spent an early hour or two tabulating final expenses from the Asia trip, trying to remember where I had dinner on November 17 and hunting down receipts for various Perrier with limes.

While this is for reimbursement purposes, it strikes me that adding up expenses might not be a bad way to spend a day devoted to shopping.

Putting on the brakes before pushing the gas pedal.

Seeing how much has gone out — before sending even more in its wake.

Trousseau

Trousseau

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On Sunday I spirited Suzanne away for a few hours of shopping. She bought a handmade wedding gown in Africa, but since then she’s bought little else, so we looked for dresses, tops, slacks — not just attire for the rehearsal dinner and other parties but outfits she can wear to work, too.

It’s such a lovely, old-fashioned tradition, collecting pretty new things to take into your new life. I remember the dresses Mom bought me, her use of the word “trousseau,” which seemed old-fashioned even then.

When I stood in the dressing room with Suzanne I felt  Mom’s presence more than usual. I thought of all the times we were in dressing rooms together, laughing, sighing, asking each other, “How do I look?”

As Suzanne checked the mirror for length and fit, I kept thinking of her younger self running in the backyard, a trail of curls bobbing in the breeze, then years later sprinting up a hill during a cross-country meet.

But every memory, every glance, was doubled, because with each memory I could feel Mom’s gaze in mine. I reminded myself that I’m the old(er) woman now. That it’s Suzanne’s trousseau we were shopping for, that in what seems like no time a lifetime has passed.

Cyber Shopping

Cyber Shopping

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I have not yet gone completely over to the dark side, but night before last I spent several hours succumbing to the unique pleasures of Cyber Monday. It’s a strange experience, shopping online. I’ve done it often before, of course, but never is such, uh, volume.

There are the obvious differences: One is not strolling through a store, searching for and finding and then touching the merchandise. One is sitting on the couch in fuzzy pink bedroom slippers while a cold rain falls. The coziness of the living room may inspire more of a spending frenzy. But I don’t think so. The bargains speak for themselves.

More to the point, there is an unreality to it. The slacks and sweaters and blouses look like paper doll clothes. I could almost cut them out and fold their little tabs over the shoulders of cardboard models.

But instead I whip out my tired old credit card, type in the numbers and click “Buy.” It’s all so easy and virtual — until the boxes and the bills start arriving. I’m expecting them tomorrow.


(Even cyber gifts must be wrapped in real paper.)

Talk About Thanksgiving

Talk About Thanksgiving

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Thanksgiving’s late date has merchants worried. There is almost a full week less to shop this year than there was last!

But for those who aren’t eager for the Buying Season to begin, we have a welcome pause.

Time to catch the breath between one season and another. Time to work and write. Time to savor what we have before plunging into what we don’t. Talk about Thanksgiving!

Shopping Alone

Shopping Alone

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It had been two weeks since I’d shopped for groceries. Two weeks of eating the ultimate leftovers, what’s left in the freezer after the kids have gone. But having exhausted most staples, I headed for the store.

I begin in the dairy aisle. No gallon of skim, just a pint of whole milk for my tea.

I skip the cold cuts, the Lunchables, the Fruit Rollups.

No candy or cookies or crackers. No goldfish! Kid cereal successfully bypassed, too; I go for the granola instead.

Meat, eh! Fish, double eh! I even pass on pasta. I settle on salad and one of those rotisserie chickens, the kind someone else cooks for you.

Before I leave I move through the produce aisle. The pears, I always bought them for Celia. The apples, those were for
Suzanne. Claire has always loved melon.

So I buy all three — pears and apples and
melon — just for the memories, you understand.

(Photo: 123RF)

Mindful Shopping

Mindful Shopping

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The path to serenity lies in living in the moment. But the moment is hard to find when Christmas shopping. So this year, I’m trying to shop mindfully, to enjoy the process a little more, to choose special gifts for the people I love but not obsess about finding the perfect item.

It’s an attitude shift. It’s about serendipity, stumbling across a scarf with texture and dash or a cunning little teapot. But it requires stores with odd jumbles of merchandise (which I’ve found by steering clear of the mall) and that the shopper (me) browse with open eyes and calm spirit.

Here’s where mindfulness comes in. I’ve noticed that it’s only when I leave behind any notion of finding the perfect gift that all the perfectly good gifts appear.