My Store

I pushed the door open and the bell jingled. As I stepped inside, the boutique owner came forward to greet me with a huge smile on her face. "You've come home! How long are you visiting for? Where's your Mum?" I was a bit taken back. I barely recognize myself in the mirror right now and yet she knew me straight away. This is my store. This is the person I keep coming back to because I know that with a bit of effort and patience, I 'll find exactly what I want.

She sold me my dress for my graduation. I didn't like any of the dresses. None of them were quite right. The owner kept thinking and the last dress she found I bought. I love that dress. It was exactly what I wanted - not that I knew it until I tried it on.

She sold me my interview suit. She knew that I didn't want a traditional suit, but was going into a more traditional environment of work. End result was a pin-striped pantsuit - except it was white with red and black pin-stripes. Matched with red shoes and a red bag, it was perfect. I got the job.

When I couldn't find any clothes for my summer work wardrobe, she agreed to send up with my mother a selection for me to go through. She pulled out the right sizes and sent them up. She sent loads and loads of things. It was all colour co-ordinated so that multiple items went together to create many outfits. All of a sudden, I had a summer wardrobe.

I love shopping at this store. Shopping becomes a collaborative although a long process. This is what happens when you have youropinion , your mother's opinion, the shop owner's opinion, the shop owner's mother's opinion (who is hard of hearing and approaching 90) and the shop assistant. However, it means that when you push open the changing room door, the sea of expectant faces tell you everything you need to know.

The first stage is browsing the clothing racks. I pull out things I like, everyone else starts pulling out things that they think will be useful or look good on me. I don't think they care whether I like it or not. All of it is added to the stack of clothes to be tried on and I can dismiss items later. When everyone is pulling out items, the stack grows exponentially. My mother will realise how large it's become and do a mental calculation. A stack that large is going to take at least an hour to go through. "You'd better start trying things on." At this point, she sits down, I enter the change room and everyone else keeps looking.

I now have a large and growing stack of clothes to try on. My goal is to diminish the pile by separating it into two categories: yes and no, so that the number of clothes being taken out of the pile are greater than the number being added. I normally lose this battle. I also lose the hanger battle so that I end up with more hangers inside the change room than I've passed back out.

"You mentioned a dress? Here's four to try on." I start working my way through the dresses.


First dress was a white shirt dress. I come out. Unanimous reaction, "Too short." Reaction to the second dress, "Too much dress." Third dress, silence. Then a "That's smart. Go look at yourself in the mirror." Unanimous approval. It goes in the yes pile. The fourth gets dismissed.

We do skirts and we do pants. We go through the tops that will work with the skirts and pants. We go up sizes and we go down sizes. We have an intense discussion on which way round one skirt is supposed to face based on it's cut and the placement of the pockets. It's unclear whether I've got it on backwards or not. We discuss the potential places to wear items and how many seasons you can make them do.

At this point, I've lost control of what I'm trying on. I'm trying on everything I'm being passed. I end up putting a leopard print blouse with black vest in the yes pile. I would never have picked it off the rack. With black pants, it's an amazing look. Theunanimous reaction is "Wouldn't have thought it, but you can definitely pull it off." There's a skirt that I could pull off but no one's too sure where. It goes back.

Slowly the pile goes down. The rejection to approval rate tends to be about seven to one. It's one of the few stores where they don't try and convince me that everything I try on looks good. It's only when it's amazing that it gets the approval rating and gets put in the yes pile.

A couple hours later, I now have several items that will blend into my wardrobe. They can be dressed up or down. They can take me from summer into fall. They're useful and they look good. They're exactly what I want. My mother, the shop owner, the shop owner's mother and the shop assistant all approve of my choices. They're my harshest critics. I know everyone else is going to love them and even better, no one else in town is going to be wearing them. This is why I still shop in my hometown and why this is my store.