Consumerism.
Costco is the size of a few football fields. Never was there ever a store in history where you had to pay to play. You must be a member to enter the cavernous walls of pallets filled with anything and everything your heart desires. Outdoor furniture, steaks, refrigerators, paper towels, hearing aides – you name it they’ve got it. They even have books and toys! Or you could fill up your tank and get your tires changed. It was all a bit overwhelming, but Kay had never heard of it and she was there for the fashion only.
We’d always joke about Bob getting almost all his clothes at Costco. But it wasn’t until my newly-transplanted sister noticed an outfit I’d thrown on that sparked her interest in the store; it was a light, gauzy green, cotton shirt that happened to match a pair of Eileen Fisher pants. Every now and then I pick up something pretty, along with the huge cartons of Starbucks coffee. And I’m always interested in that special cotton you can wash and hang to dry – the wrinkly fabric is part of the charm. In this 90 degree heat, it’s essential.
I told Kay the same shirt may not be there, but it was worth the sociological field trip to give it a try. Kay has been used to the same Upper East Side neighborhood for decades. The stores are pint-sized and specialized. I remember the first time I saw a pair of lilac, leather baby shoes from France in the window of a children’s store around the corner from her 96th Street apartment. I was strolling down Madison Avenue when the Bride was little and I’d only known white Stride Rite shoes for new walkers. I’d get out the white polish every time we’d travel. It was almost rebellious to think a baby might wear a soft shoe. Now I’m introducing Kay to something new. In the past she might have shopped at Macy’s or Bergdoff’s or Bloomingdale’s. And it’s not as if she’d never been to a shopping mall. When visiting the Flapper in MN she had a plethora of huge malls to visit with our brother Dr Jim.
But I warned her about Costco. “It’s for people who own restaurants, or sororities,” trying to prepare her for the experience.
She didn’t want a scooter, her fancy walker would do just fine. Although she said she’s an excellent driver, the Ada incident in Target was still weighing heavily on my mind. Kay would not be distracted from the mission. We headed straight for the tables piled high with clothing I hoped children weren’t making in sweatshops in Asia. And lo and behold, there were still some shirts left like mine and she picked out a navy blue, and then found more summer clothes for her new life in Nashville. She’d let go of her walker and hold something up to assess the size while wondering why they didn’t have fitting rooms. She could not believe the prices… I could feel it was hard letting go of her old life, but she was willing to adapt.
I stood there remembering, walking up Beacon Hill as a young college student in Boston to Filene’s Basement, an institution where clothes were marked down according to how long they were on the floor. Beautiful designer finds were strewn across tables and piled in bins. Women of all ages and socio-economic classes would try things on in the aisles, either having a friend shield them by holding up a coat or just wiggling things underneath their arms and legs. Coming from a small town in NJ, I was shocked and simultaneously exhilarated and enchanted.
When we returned to her apartment, someone asked Kay how she liked Costco; “I loved it,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. Next up, a huge art supply store in East! OH, and the morning before the Costco trip, last Friday I played “Mahjongg in the Mansion,” a fundraiser for Cheekwood Arboretum and Museum – and I won a travel tile set in the raffle!
MountainMornings 