Orange Crush

I went to the mall one day last week. I’m fond of saying that I hate going to the mall, but that is not 100 percent true. What’s 100 percent true is that I hate going to the mall for a specific reason, to buy a specific thing, like a dress for a wedding, or an interview outfit, or new shoes to replace shoes that I love but that are worn past the point of no return. In those cases, a trip to the mall is a chore, and I can’t get in and out fast enough. But last week’s mall trip was for no reason except that I had an unexpected 45 minutes to fill, and the mall was right there. 

My son is playing baseball this summer, in addition to swimming and lifeguarding and learning to drive and (not) doing his summer reading in preparation for the IB program. Summer baseball was no part of my plan, but my son and husband were all for it and I’m along for the ride. He had a game at a field less than a mile away from Montgomery Mall, and rather than sit on the blazing hot field waiting for the game to begin (players arrive an hour early for warmups), I decided to spend a few minutes in the cool and fragrant quiet of the mall. I didn’t plan to shop. I planned to just walk around for a bit, have a lemonade, and then proceed to the field. And I didn't really shop, though I did try on a dress. It looked silly on me. 

In any other store, I wouldn't even have tried that dress. I would have known, just seeing a trapezoid-shaped pink cotton thing dangling from its hanger, that it wasn't meant for a person of my age or body type. But the third floor of the Montgomery Mall Nordstrom is a seductive place. When you get off the escalator, you step onto a gleaming marble floor that forms a path separating the carpeted designer departments. The air conditioned chill makes the cashmere sweaters and wool jackets look cozy and right-now appropriate, and the soft overhead lighting in the huge and luxurious dressing rooms makes almost any fashion option (other than that dress) seem reasonable and appropriate, even for a slightly overweight middle aged lady. 

*****

Although I knew this when I was young, I had forgotten one thing about clothing and fashion, which is that really beautiful clothes are all about possibilities. In the right dress, the right jacket, the pants that fit exactly right, anything can happen. Humming along with R.E.M.’s "Orange Crush," which was playing on the store's music system, I also tried on a $200 Ted Baker blouse without even balking at the price tag. A few more minutes of Michael Stipe singing over R.E.M.’s jangling guitars, and I might have succumbed and handed over my credit card. Luckily, the song ended and a new one that I didn’t know started playing, and common sense prevailed. I hung the blouse back up where it belonged, which is in the designer department at Nordstrom and not in my closet, and I went on my way. 

*****

Nordstrom has changed a lot in the 20+ years since I worked there. I was the customer service manager in that very store. When I think back on that job now, about the piles of cash and thousands of dollars in daily credit transactions that I was responsible for, I think that there are few jobs for which I was less qualified. But Nordstrom promoted from within, and although I was not the best person to put in charge of cash operations for a $100 million store, I was a really good customer service representative, and the prevailing thought was that a person who was good on the front lines could be trained to be a good manager. And I was a pretty good manager, as far as managing people was concerned. As for the daily accounting and cash processing, Nordstrom is a big company, and I had manuals and standard operating procedures for everything. Eventually, I memorized all of the daily sales reconciliation routines and all of the cash register closeout processes (the store had over 150 cash registers and I was responsible for all of them), and the store balanced to the penny almost every day. 

The customer service counter isn’t there any more. The back wall of the designer department where I was trying on silly expensive clothes blocks what used to be the lobby and counter area. I’m sure that my old office and the cashroom and the gift box storage area and the office supply closet are all still back there, just no longer visible to the public. Everything is automated now. No one needs a customer service rep to look up her available credit, or to take a payment, or to verify that a return is posted. Nordstrom still looks a lot like it did when I worked there, but the energy is different. Salespeople are few and far between. A young woman unlocked a dressing room for me (locked dressing rooms are another change) and she smilingly assured me that she’d be happy to help me find another size or color if I needed it, but then I never saw her again. That’s just as well. My resistance was low, and anyone could have convinced me to drop $200 on a blouse that would hang in my closet all summer as I wear my usual WFH uniform of khaki shorts and a swim team or Washington Capitals t-shirt. I have several of each. 

*****

Soon enough, it was game time. I rode the escalator down to the Espresso Bar, ordered a large lemonade with extra ice, and reluctantly exited the cool, softly lit hush of the store into the glaring sun. The blacktop parking lot shimmered with heat and the car that I’d parked only 30 minutes earlier was easily 120 degrees inside, maybe even hotter. The scoreboard thermometer at Cabin John Regional Park’s baseball field showed a temperature of 94 at 5:45 PM. I took a seat in the bleachers and opened an umbrella for shade. I’d have felt silly sitting under an umbrella on a bright and sunny day, but everyone else was sitting beneath open umbrellas too. Two hours later, with the sun lower in the sky and a slight breeze, the game ended and I drove my son to the nearest cold drink. He got a large cherry Coke with extra ice, and without designer clothing and accessories, and we went home. Total expenditure: $9.