Men and malls: the true story

Men and malls: the true story

One woman’s tale of sports, camping gear ends myth of indecisive
female shopper

Lady Bruins: I want you to listen to a story of horrific lies
and deceit. The story is that of an entire gender made to believe a
myth that tells them they are vexatious, materialistic, slow and
indecisive. I’m speaking of the Great Shopping Myth, and I am
writing to provide evidence that I hope will free the women of UCLA
from this appalling untruth.

Over Thanksgiving break, I had the mixed blessing of staying
with my boyfriend, Brian, and his friend, Jason, at my boyfriend’s
parents’ place. The highlight of the trip? The ever-anticipated and
later loathed After Thanksgiving Day Sales. It was on this day,
Nov. 25, 1995, that I had a life changing revelation – an
enlightenment, an epiphany, if you will. I, Sherry Dianne Hartel,
discovered The Great Shopping Myth.

Like every other real California girl, I love to shop. My mom
and my girlfriends and I love to find those crazy blowouts in which
alluring little black dresses are dirt cheap, and hot shoes make it
below the $30 mark.

We love to check out everyone else’s outfits, and discuss all
those materialistic random problems associated with true mall
conversation. ("What color nylons and shoes really go with a red
dress?" "Why do some people insist on wearing white dress shoes in
the middle of the winter?" and "How can cigarette pants be ‘in’ if
you must weigh less than 100 pounds and be over 5 feet 7 inches to
wear them?")

So there is some truth to the notion that my gender loves to
look good, feel good and shop like the mini-mall is going out of
style.

But here is the myth: Women take forever and drag men into every
store as they wait, personally tortured and hoping the next store
has a comfy chair. Women of the world, take note: YOU DO NOT NEED
TO BELIEVE YOU ARE THIS ANNOYING. IT IS A LIE. Here is how I
know:

The two males, anxious to get a jump-start on shopping, awoke
early that day and made a girl’s dream come true by asking me if I
wanted to go … TO THE MALL. Thinking I was dreaming, I eagerly
agreed, not knowing my dream would soon become a nightmare.

These are the mall situations I encountered with the two
enemies:

(1) Entering every sports store (all seven or so) to search for
exactly the right Sacramento Kings paraphernalia, and deciding
between buying the hat, shirt, shorts, sweats or jacket. Estimated
time: 1.5 hours.

(2) Entering every store with a semi-rugged name to look at
backpacking-type items, sure to bring in a 900 percent profit, when
both of the enemies were in bad need of more important items (umm
… a razor?). Estimated time: 1.5 hours.

(3) Entering every music or video store and greasy food joint.
Estimated time: one hour. Estimated hearing loss and fat grams:
immeasurable. My estimated disgust: infinity plus one.

(4) Comparing 12 different Mossimo muted color shirts that
looked exactly alike, and many cloned undershirts, flannels, boxer
shorts and Levi’s. Estimated time: two hours.

(5) Entering Ann Taylor and Wild Pair so I could make a few
decidedly quick and stylish purchases as the enemies waited outside
and complained. Estimated time: 20 minutes.

When women shop, we KNOW what we want. We have it down,
girlfriend (picture the talk show z-snap as I say this). First, the
entrance (get the salesperson’s name so she’ll leave you alone);
then, the look-over (stylish? sales? good colors? bad crowds?); the
focus (the few items that YELL your name); the retreat (either a
purchase made with a little shopping buddy encouragement, or a
decision to move on).

Women shop for those items that will make them feel as if they
are the only person on the planet quite as chic, creative and sexy.
They know how to identify these little pieces of perfection, and
they have the skill to purchase them in the least amount of wasted
time.

Men, on the other hand, I gather, go to the mall to find that
which will make them the archetypal man: he who hunts down his
food, plays his tribal music and supports his favorite hunting
groups by wearing their colors. They must wear what is the accepted
tribal gear (which must be comfortable enough to wear for a matter
of days). As they shop, they fawn over all that is rugged and/or
camping related, thinking sadly of suburbia’s distance from nature
(why else would suburban men buy Jeep Cherokees and Marlboro
cigarettes?).

Women shop to look good in the world they live in every day.
Men, it seems to me, shop to live a fantasy of a world they rarely
touch. It is this quality that makes men, not women, indecisive,
slow and irritating shoppers.

Women, believe me, you must no longer fantasize that your
shopping trip will be approved of, and attended by, your closest
pal with high levels of testosterone. You will forever regret it if
that fantasy comes true. More importantly, next time a guy, in
teasing you about your shopping hobby, tells The Myth, you just
tell him to "talk to the hand" because you know the truth.

Hartel is an English and economics student; thus, she is very
talented at talking her friends into the Nordstrom half-yearly
sale. Anyone want to go?Comments to
webmaster@db.asucla.ucla.edu

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