Mall Rats
This afternoon I had the joyous pleasure of taking my teenage son shopping for clothes at the mall. It is an experience I hope to never repeat. Ever again. For as long as I live.
A little history: For as long as I've known My Kid, he's never worn jeans. When he was younger, he hated the hassle of the button/snap and zipper. He would only wear sweat pants with elastic waists. When he got a little older, he would wear cargo pants IF they were the right color AND there weren't TOO many pockets AND the pockets weren't too baggy. Cargo pants and short-sleeved t-shirts have made up the entirety of his wardrobe for about five years.
Now, his girlfriend bought him American Eagle jeans and polo shirt for Christmas because she, who will have many, many years of misery ahead of her, apparently thinks that she can change her man. And apparently she can, because he wears that outfit once a week as well as to every party he's attended.
Well, I don't want the boy to be embarrassed about wearing the same outfit all the time, so I offered today to take him to the mall and buy him a couple more collared shirts and pairs of jeans.
Who knew it would be such an ORDEAL?
And who knew there were only THREE polo shirts in the ENTIRE MALL that meet his approval?
And who knew that he would want to saunter around the mall, dragging his feet as he walks as if he has days and days to complete his task? Oh, me. I knew that.
And who knew that the actual Polo shirts now cost $75?? SEVEN. TEE. FIVE. It's a travesty.
(I did not buy him an actual Polo, but, believe me, I would have if he could have found even one in a color he liked. Because how much is my sanity worth, after all?)
Also? WHAT IS UP with that Abercrombie store? There are more palm fronds in that place than there are lights. And the music was thumping so loud I couldn't hear the cashier when he was talking to me. I've never felt so old in my life.
I seriously never knew buying clothes could be such a miserable experience. From now on, when he needs clothes, I'm dropping him and his girlfriend off at the mall with $200 cash and about six hours. Because it will certainly take him that long to walk from one end of the mall to the other.
Shopping was so much easier back in the day. Wait- his girlfriend bought him clothes??? Should I send Starbucks to deal with the upcoming drama?
Posted by
Lys |
11:36 PM
Our Abercrombie often has shirtless, super fine (I sound like a pedophile) young college boys at the entry. I guess they are showing off their jeans? Sometimes there are funky dressed cute girls in the entry too...I'm not sure what that's about, but it creeps me out. I try to stay far, far away from that store!
Posted by
Carrie Ann |
9:59 AM
I know, right? There was a photo over the cash register of a naked woman's torso with her arms covering her boobs and I said to My Kid, "How does that make you want to buy their clothes?"
Posted by
Kalisa |
12:25 PM
VIVA LA INTERNET SHOPPING!
Posted by
Michelle |
1:05 PM
Don't be too hard on him--there are only 3 blouses in the entire mall that would meet with my approval. clothes are expensive, so being picky could be a good thing. Look on the bright side, he isn't going out in a smelly old sweatsuit and filthy houseslippers like my grown son does. My son won't think twice about wearing horribly wrinkled clothes he found on his apt. floor to a formal event. I wish he had shown some interest in his attire & hygiene.
Posted by
Anonymous |
1:22 PM
well when you put it that way...
Posted by
Kalisa |
2:30 PM
I had the same ordeal at the mall last week. Oh my how clothes have changed. Thankfully he does not like American Eagle OR Abercombie, but had a GC to AE. He bought two shirts and left. He would not set foot into Abercombie, but the beat was loud from the outside. His dad took him last night and he came home with shirts with collars...something he would not let me buy him. T-shirts and jeans have been his mainstay...not anymore. A girl he likes just turned dating age and now he tells me he needs to look grown up.
Shelly
Posted by
Anonymous |
1:55 AM