I love sample sales. Love. In what other city can you get a 400 dollar top designer iconic dress for $150.00?
After being stripped of my coat, my tote, and handbag, permitted only my wallet, I entered the playing field of the NYC's most competitive indoor sport- The Sample Sale. "It's like rugby for females." I always say. "Its kill or be killed."
I see a woman with a pretty pretty dress. I must have it. But she's in the size 10 section. I go to the size 4-6 section, however, her dress is no where to be found.
I find a wrap dress in my size . Pink and blue. Is it last season or this season? Do I even care? Time is ticking away I need to grab the goods before they close. One of the frazzled workers screams out "One half hour left ladies!" galvanizing a mad rush to the dressing room. I find the end of the line only to learn its actually "the middle of the line" and I am rudely directed across the room behind at least 30 other voracious fashionistas.
The gestapo operate the dressing room. The is no room for me or my clothes. I'm told I have to share space and another sample saler is pushed aside. Once again I get cursed. "15 minutes!" the dressing room warden barks, "You cannot try on things twice! You have no time to look in the mirror."
Mirror? Who the hell can get to a mirror in this fire code violation fashion sparring match?
I grab two dresses, my reflection unseen, and leave $278 dollars poorer. But with two pretty dresses, I emerge victorious. I almost expect a medal with my receipt.
I vow never to put myself in this gruesome situation again, until 2 weeks later when I take my place as person #168 in the J crew sample sale line!
|DVF dress the color of the sunset|