“I’m sorry, Mom.” OR “Sure, whatever, let’s just get out of here.”

What to call this post? It’s a toss up, really. I’m struggling between “I’m sorry, Mom.” OR “Sure, whatever, let’s just get out of here.”

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?

But anyway.

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?

(Sorry, Mom.)


12 thoughts on ““I’m sorry, Mom.” OR “Sure, whatever, let’s just get out of here.”

  1. abecrombie is the worst offender. i swear i have spent 20% more just to get the hell out of there.

    btw, i like that one of your related posts listings is The ‘F’ Word!!

  2. This post made me laugh. Method to every marketer’s madness, eh? Next they’ll be making stores smell like baked cookies (or whatever theoretically makes you buy).

  3. I HATE those techno-music blasting places. I only find myself there when the boys come home now, but Ilaiy used to love browsing in Abercrombie, etc. I’d get so frustrated having to scream over the music to discuss a garment. Fuhgettit.

  4. Ha ha! You’re very funny. I actually own a store for tweens, but I had to go to Abercrombie recently to pick out some uniform clothes with my daughter. The music, the lighting, the perfume being sprayed on everything, the overly perky but not really helpful staff: I was in a bad mood within ten seconds! Maybe we’re paying more to get out of there in as little time as possible, but the management must notice that the people with the wallets (that would be the grown ups) are MISERABLE. In the end that strategy has got to backfire, right?

  5. I haven’t had the pleasure/pain of stepping in a store like that yet. Kate hasn’t shown interest and Chris wears Sean’s hand-me-down jeans (THANK YOU, Melissa!) and then Trey wears them. I guess our day will come. But I do know what you mean. I can hardly stand to even walk PAST them! But the Apple store, that is another issue. I’m drawn like a moth to a flame!


  6. The only thing worse than the music, is the stench of the cologne they spray all over the store. It floats out into the mall. UGH!

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