by Cathy
We've all been there:You can hear the music thumping and smell the sensual scents of youthful fragrances even before you reach the big, sleek doors. A buzz of excitement courses through your body in anticipation of the fun you will have once you're inside. You will see and be seen. You look your best; you feel your best. It's time to get this party started.
With a big swoosh, the doors bow open upon your entry. Immediately, your senses heighten as you take in the scene. Those smells are stronger now - musky men's cologne and floral women's perfumes battle for the rights to the air you breathe. Quasi-provocative, black-and-white photos of dewy, fresh-faced, pubescent youths adorn the walls, enticing and luring you through the joint.
As you snake your way through the dimly lit environment, the music beats bounce off your chest and reverberate against your sternum. The music loud enough to discourage conversation, so your body starts to let go as you surrender to the melodies overtaking your ears. Your hips start to swing and before you know it, you are singing along, snapping your fingers and bobbing your head.
Feelin' good, you head towards the back...all the way in the back...you know, where all the smart, cool, V.I.P.s hang out. You turn the corner, fully expecting a dazzling display of glossy liquor bottles, swanky martini glasses and more beautiful people lounging around the bar area. Instead...you find a cashier's desk. Yes, my fellow clubshopper, you have entered Club Abercrombie.
As children (or should I say, girls) mature, so does their taste in clothes and accessories. They become socially and self aware. They observe fashions, styles, trends, and the outfits and brands their friends and favorite Disney characters are wearing and putting together. They read magazines, browse online pop culture sites and are tapped into several forms of social media via several forms of gadgetry. They are more conscious of the way they present themselves to the world - namely, this world being their peers. On some level, they all want to fit in, be in the know, and fear becoming ostracized in any capacity.
So, here's the thing I love about my Bella: She has never, ever whined about, cried over, complained about or demanded anything she covets or wants. She is very subtle about mentioning what she likes and how nice it would be if she had (blank) or how some of the girls at school have (blank). She has never come right out and directly asked for anything, but rather nonchalantly stated that it would be nice if she had (blank) or (blank) is so cool!!
In such a way, came about our first ever shopping excursion to abercrombie kids this past weekend. We decided to treat Bella to some cute abercrombie tees she's been hinting at for quite some. And what better timing than to hit a sale??
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| Come here girl. Come to the back. V.I.P. Drinks on me. Get your sexy on. |
Now if I were in a real club, ya know, in Da Cluuuuub, I wouldn't mind the loud ass music, the darkly lit alcoves and even the nauseating colognes. But we were here for a reason - to shop with an 11-year old, headstrong, indecisive girl. And with that comes a lot of negotiating, cajoling, suggesting, bickering and a LOT of time. Mix all of these elements up and you have some pretty frustrated, annoyed parents, who, guess what marketing gurus? Have the money that will pay for the overly full-priced clothing in your store club, so while it's important to target the consumer age group, you must also cater to the ones dishing out the Benjamins.
Finally, while in the checkout line, with the music now slowly bumping the clothing off the shelves with each beat, other customers' kids whining about what they want, the pimple-faced cashier losing her fitting room keys while her cohort bangs a roll of quarters open in the cash drawer, the perfumes being sprayed by a gaggle of girls just inches from my face, I looked over at Bella and yelled, "It's sensory overload in here!"
Magically, as if I've said Abracadabra!, the mom behind me in line transforms into a Gushing Gertrude and finds the opportunity to exasperatingly agree with me yelling in my ear, club style: "If they could turn the music down just a notch, my God! It's not like we're in a club!"
Oh, but we are, thanks to those marketing gurus straight out of college. Oh how I wish I could Abracadabra! the cashier's desk into that shiny bar so I could get my drink on to deal with all this madness. But hey, if my daughter wants it and likes it, I'll put up with it and try in vain to relive my youth via the club machine that is abercrombie.
Who knows? Maybe I can find something in my size...
