I’ll start from where the thought started.
When I was a teenager, my saintly mother took me shopping. When I tell you I had to try on 25 pairs of jeans to find 1 pair or 50 shirts to maybe find 1, I would not be kidding. Hard as it might be for you to believe, I was not easy that way. I was particular.
And I hated looking like everyone else but I didn’t want to look so different. Not an easy task. But that wasn’t the worst part of shopping with me, I have reccently figured out.
The worst part was the obnoxious loud music at the stores I frequented. I remember my mother silently suffering. Well, it couldn’t have been that silent or I wouldn’t have known, right?
Tonight, I took my teenage son (OMG, I have a teenage son) and my tween son shopping for clothes. Last week, they grew. Seriously, neither had a pair of pants that was long enough and Reed couldn’t even button his. And don’t even get me started on the length of the ‘long’ sleeve shirts.
So shopping we went.
To Aéropostale and American Eagle. By the way, I was told by my guys that Gap is not so much anymore. Did you know that? I didn’t. And this was the first time I let them choose where we’d go. I was always the Kohl’s or Old Navy shopper but they’re getting to that age where they really care. I explained that the budget was the same: they could choose to have fewer items if they wanted. And they did.
I remember feeling that way too.
So we’re in these stores. And you know what? I did like the clothes, but the music was un-fricking-bearable. I actually like that kind of music – with a hard beat and rap and rock and pop – but it was so loud I could feel my heart beating out of my new Ipex.
And I figured out today what my mother must have learned back in the day. The music is a strategy.
A brilliant strategy.
Because what mother wouldn’t want to make the kid pick out clothes, pay, and get the heck outta there?