I’ll Tackle You to the Ground at Filene’s Basement Blowout Sale

I went over to Filene’s Basement in Union Square last night to check out the sale. They will be closing this Friday. I actually had a present to shop for and figured I could do pretty well there.

I’d been visiting Filene’s periodically since I first learned of their closing. The first time, I bought a fabulous Valentino jacket for 30% off. The next time, I found a pair of black Valentino trousers for 60% off the Filene’s price. Yesterday, the high end designer stuff was 80% off.

Oh yeah! I was gonna buy something if it killed me.

Pickings were sparse, but there was still some Valentino and Escada left. Some of the items were trashed, too big, or too small. But I didn’t care. I tried everything on I could squeeze myself into.

It’s so hard to shop for those Italian designer pieces. A size four in Italian is NOT a US size four. You can’t fit your big toe into a size four in Italian. And the numbers are 38, 42, etc. It’s fine. It just makes shopping a little tricky.

I tried on some pants, skirts, and a black silk Escada wrap dress with ruffles. It looked like trash on the hanger, and there was a size 40 and a size 42. I think that meant a US size 10 and 12. I tried it on. It was a little big on me, but I wasn’t sure. The price tag read $599.99, so I put it back and proceeded to take my two items to the checkout.

I walked over to the check out line. And made my way to the end of the line. I walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Are you kidding me right now??

And walked.

The line wrapped around the floor from one end to the other.

Oy! Do I really need this stuff?

Yes. When else can I get a pair of winter white Valeninto flare leg trousers for $79.99?

I also had an ankle length black satin Escada skirt. It was a little too tight, and I’m not sure I can sit in it, but I couldn’t put it down. It didn’t have a price on it. I asked the funky looking sales girl, with the most fabulous haircut I ever saw, the price. She told me it was probably about forty bucks. They’d tell me at the counter.

She had very short, cropped hair on the sides and a huge pompadour on the top. Kinda like Elvis in jailhouse rock, but higher.

I got on the end of the line with my two items.

And waited.

I waited. Even though I didn’t even know how much my stuff was going to cost!

Everyone on line had these huge garbage baskets on wheels, filled (and I mean filled) with all kinda crap. Crap was dripping off the sides!

And then there’s me.

The woman in front of me was cracking jokes. The woman behind me kept hitting my buttocks with her hanger.

Whatever.

I was getting hot and bored after about 25 minutes waiting and wondering why I was there. I thought about the black silk Escada ruffled wrap dress. Hmm. I wonder what 80% of 599.99 is? I took out my iPhone.

What???!!!

$119???!!!!

Are you flippin’ kidding me right now?

That’s it???

Why didn’t I just buy the damned thing for the love of God!

I decided to ask the woman who kept hitting my tucus if she would hold onto my spot for a moment while I checked on the black silk Escada ruffled wrap dress. I would just go and get it. Bring it right back to the line. And I would feel better...

Are You Stalking Me Or Are You Just An Asshole 2?

A year later, I still hadn’t bumped into her. I was happy, but plagued with the anxiety of the fateful day when I’d be stuck on the elevator with Yenti. But it hadn’t happened yet, so I was in denial that she even was lurking. In the meantime, I was house hunting. Seriously.

One morning, I was doing my make up in my car outside my building. Why, you ask? Well, it all comes back to parking. I was parked in a spot in front of my place, which was only legal until 7 a.m. So, I decided to get in the car and do my make up there instead of in the bathroom like a normal person.

So, I’m doing my face and listening to Howard Stern, when all of a sudden, I see Yenti walking out of my building. I immediately ducked! When I saw her for the first time, I didn’t want it to be while applying mascara, in the front seat of my Toyota, like a friggin’ homeless chick. Like I’m living in the back seat of my freaking car or something. So, instead of looking like a loser, I’m ducking in my Toyota, holding my friggin’ YSL mascara thing out so I don’t get it all over my face.

I couldn’t pick my head up. I was afraid she’d see me.

Yeah right. Like she was really going to see me in my little Toyota. Like she had nothing better to do at 7 a.m. than to be looking in cars to see if people are hiding from her.

But to me. I had to hide. When I see her for the first time, it was gonna be on MY terms! And I definitely WASN”T going to be in a 1995 Toyota applying mascara when it went down dammit!

On Monday, I was schlepping home from work and my chiropractor appointment. About 7:30 at night. My back’s been out lately, so I’ve been wearing sneakers to work in order to get through the day. I was wearing black skinny trousers, a white T, a silver rain jacket and magenta sequin Converse All Star sneakers. I wasn’t wearing glasses, so I can’t see twenty feet away. But as I got closer to my building, I saw a woman out front. I got closer. NOOOOO. It’s not her! It can’t be …

Yenti!

Damn!! It’s her.

And I’m too close to turn around and take the back entrance. Of course she’s glammed to the max and I’m wearing a T-shirt and magenta sequin Converse All Star sneakers!

Busted!

“Hi Yenti.”

“Oh! After a year and a half, we finally see each other! Hi cutie, sweetie pie, cupcakes!! You look sooooo adorable in your magenta sequin Converse All Star sneakers.”

“Yeah, right.”

Ok. So, it went down. We exchanged polite ‘how are you’s’. Blah. Blah. Blah.

As I walked away, I thought, “I gotta move”.

So, He Didn’t Kick the Cab THAT Hard, Did He?

I saw him today.

The ‘kick the cab’ guy.

After five years.

And he looked as handsome as ever.

Damn.

I was still attracted.

Shit!

I missed him.

Fuck!!

About six years ago I dated Lafayette. I was really crazy about him.

Really.

But I had to break up with him after three months because of his bad temper.

One evening out in Manhattan, as we were crossing the street, a cab cut us off. Lafayette became so angry so quickly that he kicked the cab as it passed. And I got scared.

It was at that moment that I decided I couldn’t be with him even though I was crazy about him.

I know that I mostly write about the nutty stuff that goes on in my life here, as a single woman in the big city. But what you don’t know is that I was in an abusive marriage. It was so scary that I can never go back. So, any sign of any kind of abuse from anyone; a boyfriend, girlfriend, boss is a red flag for me.

So, you can imagine my fear when the kick the cab moment took place.

To make a long story short, I broke it off with my sweet heart.

Seeing him again today really hit me.

So, here I am.

Alone,

As usual.

Thinking about it. Six years later.

And wondering if people can change.

When we all know they don’t.

Then, wondering if I over reacted.

He Didn’t Kick the Cab THAT Hard, Did He?

All I Want for Christmas is Shoes

It is a week and a half before Christmas.

And I am a little down.

I can’t quite get into it.

Is it just me?

We should all feel happy and thankful and full of love.

But me?

I feel poopy.

I can’t even get into shopping.

And I love shopping!

I don’t really feel like getting a tree.

Or decorating it.

Last year, nobody ever saw my tree. Just me.

How sad is that?

I guess it’s my fault. I should have invited someone over.

I don’t know what it is.

I have a lot to be thankful for.

Well, I guess a lot of people get depressed at Christmas.

I’m so not into it, I don’t really even want anything.

Well, I guess maybe one thing.

All I want for Christmas is shoes.

Are You Stalking Me Or Are You Just An Asshole 1?

They say, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” but it pisses me off. Did you ever have a friend or family member who copied everything you did or wore? I get that a lot. I had a clothing designer friend who would wear everything I wore. I’d be wearing something different and original when we’d go out. Next time I saw her, she’d be wearing the same thing. It became a private joke after a while.

Ok. That’s clothing. But listen to this story.

I really worked hard to get myself out of the rat-infested hole-in-the-wall walk up on the way upper, Upper East Side of Manhattan, I was living in. I saved my money for years in a mutual fund account so that one day, I could own my own apartment. (Well, if prince charming didn’t save me first.) We all know how that turns out. I won’t go into it right now. All you need to know is he didn’t show, so now I’m purchasing a place. Alone.

I mean, I worked my butt off to find something good. I researched for a couple of years, and I pounded the pavement for at least six months. Saw some really scary, shitty places. I finally found a fabulous one-bedroom coop, with an elevator and a doorman. Exactly what I was looking for.

I have a cousin, Yenti, who is something of an opportunist. She’s two years older than me. As children, she would always treat me like she was so much older than me, which I always found annoying. As adults, she sort of kept that up. She was the type that would steal your boyfriend or use you. She’d use people to do whatever; get into a club, get into school, get a job. But of course, she’d never admit it. But she was my cousin and I loved her.

Oh yeah, Yenti is single.

I must have seen her at some family event. As usual, we were catching up. I mentioned my new Manhattan apartment. (She lived with her mother, in New Jersey.) Ok, so maybe I was bragging a little. But I deserved it. I worked hard for it and was proud. She asked me what street it was on. I must have told her. No big deal. Everyone was sharing, ‘What are you doing? What are YOU doing, etc.’

Several months later, my aunt, Yenti’s mom passed away. At the funeral Yenti asked about my apartment. She told me she really like the block and the building. She’d done a drive by to check it out.

Huh?

Do people really do that if they are not stalkers? It freaked my sister, Hadassah and me out a little.

Years passed.

My back goes out of whack again. I’m home from work. In bed, to rest it a few days prior to my nephews wedding that was to take place that weekend.

I’m home in bad. The front desk buzzes me. I hobble over to answer. (That will teach me to ever answer!) “Hi Blue Shoes Manhattan (BSM). Your cousin is here. Do you want to talk to her?” the doorman says.

“What??”

“Hi BSM! It’s Yenti!! A funny thing just happened. I’m in the city looking for apartments, and I just happened to be looking in yours. What a coincidence! Can I come up and see you?”

“Huh? … Yeah…. Sure. .. Great. … Can’t wait.”

I thought, “Shit!”

I said, “Sure. Come on up.”

So, of course I’m in my pajamas and I’m hunched over. Yenti’s all glammed to the max. Hair, full make up, heels.

“Oh, BSM! You’re so cutie cute cutsie!! How are you? Does your backy wacky hurt you? Poor thing. So, show me around your apartment. A friend of mind and I are thinking of sharing a studio in this building. What are the odds it would be yours”?

“Yeah. What are the odds”? I groaned. But I was thinking, “Fuck you bitch!”

“What? What are you in college or something? Why are you sharing an apartment with a married friend? Anyway, you don’t want to live here. It’s roach and rat-infested.” Well I had to say something!! I really didn’t want cousin Yenti living downstairs from me. I had to think quick. I felt like crap. My back hurt. I just wanted her out of there. She wasn’t getting the hint.

She left.

As I limped back to bed, I glanced in the mirror. I was white as a ghost, I smelled, and my hair was standing straight up into the air about three feet.

Ugh! Why me God!!

I called Hadassah, immediately. She was like, “What the …? You have to do something!”

So I decided to contact her sister Tovah, and tell her how I felt. And to try and talk Yenti out of this. I sent her an email. She didn’t write back.

The rehearsal dinner was two days later. Yenti was there. I gave it to her straight. “You know, I’m really uncomfortable about you moving into my building.”

“Really, why?”

“I’m there, doing my thing on my own. You could have asked how I felt about it before you did anything.”

“Really?? Oh, the thought never crossed my mind. No hard feelings, right?”

“Yeah, right.” I fucking hate her!

It was too little too late. I think she already left a deposit.

Myself and my whole immediate family were pissed. Even the bride. That’s my girl!

We barely gave Yenti the time of day at the wedding.

Fast forward a few months. I get a voice mail. From Yenti. She leaves me this elaborate message happily announcing that she’ll be attending her closing soon and do I have any pointers.

I didn’t return her call.

All I know is,

I gotta move.