You know you ain't from around here when: - Someone says enthusiastically, "Oh you MUST get yourself downtown to Century 21. It will change your life!"
And you reply, "But I can't afford to purchase any real estate right now."
That was me three days ago, looking quite the befuddled bumpkin as my mentor rattled off all the ways Century 21 would change my life. He is spewing directions and telling me which floors to check out first and to beware of the crowds when it dawned on me that, in my mind, I'd gone to Carolina ...
"Wait a minute? Did you say designer? As in fashion? This a fashion sto'?"
He looks at me like, man, does she have so much to learn.
"Um, yeah," he says as carefree as a Parisian with a cigarette. "It's a discount department store type thing, you know where you can get things like Pucci, Diesel, Madison Ave. designer duds for way way off and I'm not kidding, there are steals to be had there."
So it's Saturday morning and I ride the E-train on downtown, pop out the subway station feelin' groovy and shazam -- wide open spaces. Spaces where two looming towers used to be. It's a Saturday and while I'm touring the city, I'm not exactly a tourist. There's scaffolding type barriers all around the site so I couldn't get a good look at Ground Zero, but I can tell you that I looked up in the sky to where I thought they would be were they still here and I shuddered thinking of what that must've been like to be there on that day ...
My cousin Crystal and I just stand back and stare for a bit until we feel the melancholy taking over our zest for shopping and so we turn and waltz into Century 21. If this was some real estate, you could feel like Trump. I spent an hour combing through the handbag collection, and I ain't even a diva! Although at these prices, I could very well soon be in need of a purse closet.
Fearing my debit card was about to go swooshin' like a windbreaker breakin' wind, I took my one purse and wallet and made my way to checkout. I looked at all the lovely shoes and convinced myself that it would be too much work to have to take off my sneakers and socks to try them all on, so I made it out of there okay. Then we went up to the clothing section, but as soon as we saw the crowds and the stellar collection of denim, Crysnotic and I decided we'd best roll on out before we had to hire someone to lug all our stuff home -- monthly statements included.
***
Lewi tahn, you wan Lewi tahn? I got movada, pwada, coach, fendi? You like Fendi? I get fuh you. I get. Come. You! You come heah! I got sumting nice. Veddy nice fuh you. Hey gul. You. You gul. You come here. See what I ha fuh you. You like buhbewwy? Come 'side. Look. New culuh. Dis new. You get. No wheh else dis only heah. You come. You see. You get.
***
Hmmm. I think this is where the paparazzi get their tactics. I felt almost famous. I got ushered and coaxed and grinned upon; goodies were heaped upon my open arms without a beck or a call from my lips; it sounded as if thousands of voices were calling for me, shouting, waving, pulling ... For about a dozen blocks I felt like a) I was still hungover and hearing voices, b) I was in this wacked out Chinese Cheers spin-off where my name was hey, pretti brown gul, and everybody knew it, and c) like I had, "I'm an idiot, please take my money from me because I obviously don't know what quality is anymore" stamped across my forehead.
Seeing as it was my first Canal Street experience, as well as Crystal's, we'd be lying if I didn't tell you we were slightly overwhelmed. At one point I remember saying in a room full of women that I bet somewhere under the piles and piles of Coach duffles was a Gizmo looking for a home. I swear that one time we went down so many rickety steps that I felt like Master Splinter could've emerged to greet me at any moment. The musty darkness of these places has been perfectly captured on so many films that I needn't even bother trying to give it justice -- you just need to go for yourself and be grabbed by the arm and literally pulled down 70,000 rickety steps at breakneck pace only to have your hostess snatch black plastic garbage bags off their treasured, "secret" merchandise voila-style like a big plaque unveiling.
My favorite thing. Playing like, "Aw, gee, this my only $20 bill and you have no ATM, so I go and come back later, okay? I'll be right back, okay?"
You say this as you're side stepping it towards the entrance. Now most times, they're hip to this game, and they'll say whatever, but the beauty (and beast) of Canal Street is that so much of the merchandise is redundant that every other vendor will give in to this sheepish display of bartering (and conversely, some are all knowing sheisters who will just make an ugly face at you as you leave their dusty displays behind). I found me some Chanel sunglasses and dude gonna say, $25.
"Huh?" I say, scrunching the left side of my face up like Wanda would've on In Living Color (I almost crossed my eyes.). "Did you say $25?! For some fake sunglasses? Okay."
I put them suckas down and side shuffle shuffle sided my way toward the door when I felt an arm grab me. I turned around and he leans in too close to say, "Fuh you, pretty lady, I give you $15."
I say, "You think I'm pretty?" I smile. "Well, I think I'm prettier than $15, don't you?" I try the glasses back on and ask people for their honest opinions. Unanimously, it's decided that yes, yes I am prettier than $15.
"Ah, I gih you $12."
"I'm as pretty as 10."
"Okay," he says laughing with the group. "You ten."
"Actually, eight is my lucky number."
"Okay lady. $8. No mowah!"
"Thaynk ya," I say smiling sweetly just like my mama taught me long ago.
Now granted, it was my first time and I believe that had I played a different hand I might've gotten out of there with less than $8. But you know, I'm not exactly "prfct," but I did alright ;)
***
I'd keep it rolling, but, uh, I've been up since 4:30 a.m. and I didn't get home until 55 mins. ago. FYI, it's now, 9:55, and 4:30 will again be my wake up call. So I gotsta get my head to the pillow :)
Ciao bellas :)