In the second or third season of Desparate Housewives (when it was "the" show to watch), maybe just after the first season of Curb Your Enthusiasm but definitely post-Christmas on a visit to our children in southern California, my husband thought it would be a good idea to take a quick shopping trip to Barneys Beverly Hills. He had heard Larry David from Curb Your Enthusiasm casually mention Barneys in the Curb dialogue. Plus, we had gotten some random, but embellished, Barney's gift from a friend a few years earlier. Also, the rental car place had really goofed up our reservations so we ended up with an uber nice Escalade for our use for the whole visit. Maybe my honey felt we could handle it.
He was curious.
I got it, so we went.
Now, my husband and I have six adult children between us, five baby grands (only two baby boys had been born at the time of this story), and a dog (doesn't travel, thank God or else she may have added to the drama that ensues). Although we took two vehicles, all of our daughters (four), both sons and a one son-in-law, the two baby boys, two strollers, and without dog (again thank God) pulled up to the valet parking of Barneys and poured out of the our son-in-law's Audi and our rented Escalade one by one. Our brood managed to reduce a roomy luxury utility vehicle to the size of an MG midget full of circus clowns. The parking attendants had to be amazed as we just simply kept coming.
Yikes!
We proudly tossed the attendants our "rental" keys and flowed into the immaculate, open-air sales floor of Barneys. Two fabulous floors of high-fashion labels where socks start at $45.00 a pair and yet there was no crowd.
Go figure?
Lighting in this place was so precise that each piece of merchandise (strategically placed and perfect and limitedly featured) seemed to be its own showcase. Unfortunately, the lighting also proved to wash my dark skin right out, my clothes soon seemed labelly challenged and I had an instant flashback to episodes of Uncle Jed, Granny, Jethro and Ellie Mae.
Bumpkins.
Was this just my insecurity? Was I just imagining that the sales staff was staring at us as though we had just deboarded a tour bus at the Hollywood Walk of Fame? Was I going to cave to the pressure of paying $45.00 for a pair of socks?
Panic!
Then there they were...the opium of the female masses...Shoes...precious, PRECIOUS, SHOES! Gucci, PRADA, Fendi, Manolo Blahnik, Yves St. Laurent, Marc Jacobs all there. Ten eyes were affixed to the back of store and the high fashion was beckoning us across the airish lint-free wooden floor. To this, my hubby was good. He was the man; he and the boys opted to take the flawless and spiral staircase to the second floor which wound neatly up to the men's merchandise.
Well, all five of us girls had just about settled on sharing a pair of $1500.00 Manolo Blaknik (on sale) three-inch high slinky sandals when I noticed a very underdressed, unassuming, but familiar face discretely hidden under a baseball cap. I gingerly handed back to our eldest daughter the Manolos as though I was handing her her birthright. I slinked closer to the baseball cap, pretending that the regular-priced shoes had some how become affordable to me; and when I had gotten close enough to speak in a whisper, I said to the baseball cap, "I know you are busy, but I love you!"
She looked up from under her cap and smiled. I had loved her in the sitcom, "Sports Night" and seen her made-for-tv movies. I indeed am a longtime fan of both her and her husband William H. Macy. She extended her hand to shake mine and invited her assistant, Kim, over to meet me. SHE WAS GRACIOUS!!! I invited my daughters (all Deparate Housewife fans) over to meet both Ms. Huffman and Kim.
I remember how she referred to each of my daughters by name and briefly spoke to each of them about their interests. She even acknowledged my baby boys sitting in their strollers. We straigtened our hair and coats and Kim (assistant) took a photo and then the both of them were gone. Ms. Huffman never let on, but I think her shopping experience was probably just ruined by novice shopping with celebs in Barneys. We, on the other hand, were stoked!
We had to share our experience with our guys on the second floor. So, we boarded the elevators right off the shoe department. We loaded babies, strollers, coats, grins and excitement and then hit the button for the 2nd floor. The doors quickly closed and we lifted toward the second floor, but then....
Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!
A long loud alarm, sounding in intervals of three. Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! What's going on? Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Is it a fire alarm, we guessed? Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Oh, my God; it's the elevator alarm, we discover. Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!
Shame poured into the elevator and deflated any photo-with-Felicity excitement we had just experienced. We are reduced to silence cloaked by utter embarrassment. My youngest daughter, in her excitement, had leaned on the elevator alarm and now we had officially become novice TIMES A BILLION, plus a pair of $45.00 socks.
The elevator doors opened in pregnant-snail time with us facing everyone and everyone facing us. We were at full circle, unloading the elevator pretty much like we had unloaded the Escalade and Audi earlier, fanfare. It was time to go just as Felicity Huffman had earlier, no fanfare. Ever happen to you? 'Cause that's the best I've got...
He was curious.
I got it, so we went.
Now, my husband and I have six adult children between us, five baby grands (only two baby boys had been born at the time of this story), and a dog (doesn't travel, thank God or else she may have added to the drama that ensues). Although we took two vehicles, all of our daughters (four), both sons and a one son-in-law, the two baby boys, two strollers, and without dog (again thank God) pulled up to the valet parking of Barneys and poured out of the our son-in-law's Audi and our rented Escalade one by one. Our brood managed to reduce a roomy luxury utility vehicle to the size of an MG midget full of circus clowns. The parking attendants had to be amazed as we just simply kept coming.
Yikes!
We proudly tossed the attendants our "rental" keys and flowed into the immaculate, open-air sales floor of Barneys. Two fabulous floors of high-fashion labels where socks start at $45.00 a pair and yet there was no crowd.
Go figure?
Lighting in this place was so precise that each piece of merchandise (strategically placed and perfect and limitedly featured) seemed to be its own showcase. Unfortunately, the lighting also proved to wash my dark skin right out, my clothes soon seemed labelly challenged and I had an instant flashback to episodes of Uncle Jed, Granny, Jethro and Ellie Mae.
Bumpkins.
Was this just my insecurity? Was I just imagining that the sales staff was staring at us as though we had just deboarded a tour bus at the Hollywood Walk of Fame? Was I going to cave to the pressure of paying $45.00 for a pair of socks?
Panic!
Then there they were...the opium of the female masses...Shoes...precious, PRECIOUS, SHOES! Gucci, PRADA, Fendi, Manolo Blahnik, Yves St. Laurent, Marc Jacobs all there. Ten eyes were affixed to the back of store and the high fashion was beckoning us across the airish lint-free wooden floor. To this, my hubby was good. He was the man; he and the boys opted to take the flawless and spiral staircase to the second floor which wound neatly up to the men's merchandise.
Well, all five of us girls had just about settled on sharing a pair of $1500.00 Manolo Blaknik (on sale) three-inch high slinky sandals when I noticed a very underdressed, unassuming, but familiar face discretely hidden under a baseball cap. I gingerly handed back to our eldest daughter the Manolos as though I was handing her her birthright. I slinked closer to the baseball cap, pretending that the regular-priced shoes had some how become affordable to me; and when I had gotten close enough to speak in a whisper, I said to the baseball cap, "I know you are busy, but I love you!"
She looked up from under her cap and smiled. I had loved her in the sitcom, "Sports Night" and seen her made-for-tv movies. I indeed am a longtime fan of both her and her husband William H. Macy. She extended her hand to shake mine and invited her assistant, Kim, over to meet me. SHE WAS GRACIOUS!!! I invited my daughters (all Deparate Housewife fans) over to meet both Ms. Huffman and Kim.
I remember how she referred to each of my daughters by name and briefly spoke to each of them about their interests. She even acknowledged my baby boys sitting in their strollers. We straigtened our hair and coats and Kim (assistant) took a photo and then the both of them were gone. Ms. Huffman never let on, but I think her shopping experience was probably just ruined by novice shopping with celebs in Barneys. We, on the other hand, were stoked!
We had to share our experience with our guys on the second floor. So, we boarded the elevators right off the shoe department. We loaded babies, strollers, coats, grins and excitement and then hit the button for the 2nd floor. The doors quickly closed and we lifted toward the second floor, but then....
Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!
A long loud alarm, sounding in intervals of three. Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! What's going on? Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Is it a fire alarm, we guessed? Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Oh, my God; it's the elevator alarm, we discover. Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!
Shame poured into the elevator and deflated any photo-with-Felicity excitement we had just experienced. We are reduced to silence cloaked by utter embarrassment. My youngest daughter, in her excitement, had leaned on the elevator alarm and now we had officially become novice TIMES A BILLION, plus a pair of $45.00 socks.
The elevator doors opened in pregnant-snail time with us facing everyone and everyone facing us. We were at full circle, unloading the elevator pretty much like we had unloaded the Escalade and Audi earlier, fanfare. It was time to go just as Felicity Huffman had earlier, no fanfare. Ever happen to you? 'Cause that's the best I've got...
I LOVE it! And trust me... you handled meeting her better than I would have. I probably would have screamed and started jumping around (note... I can't jump!) pointing my finger... she would have ran from me! Can't wait to read more of your blog!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much. I'm finally here. See you in the blogosphere!
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