Puttin' on the Ritz

This morning when I came to work The Big Boss and her Partner in crime Business announced that the three of us were playing hokey and going shopping at the ritziest mall in the Detroit area. I was then handed an envelope with my Christmas bonus inside. Cash.

I can't really say no to that, now can I.

I never feel totally comfortable in Madison Avenue stores. I really have no business being in those establishments and the attention the clerks lavish upon me makes me wonder if I look suspicious.

For example, I was in Neiman Marcus enjoying the exquisite tactile experience of petting a pair of bizarre fur boots. While I was vaguely wondering “if I walked through the snow and these boots got wet, would they smell like dogs?” yet another clerk hustled up to me to ask if I was finding everything. It makes me paranoid that I look like a thief and don’t realize it.

I also tried on a gorgeous fox trimmed coat that made me look entirely like a silver screen movie star. Truly, I looked like a million dollars. However, there’s nothing like the skinny clerks at Sakes to make you want to swear off brie and crème brûlée forever.

(Like that’s ever going to happen)