Clothes
I have never liked shopping. Ever. Was it because I was never an “easy fit” into clothing? Perhaps. Was it because my mom and older sister loved shopping and would do it together, quite often, whilst excluding me? Perhaps. Though my mother exhibited the most patience with me while we were shopping, I was her challenge. She was going to find a style that looked decent on me; a brand that fit me. And she usually did, so kudos and thanks to her and her Olympic gold-medal-winning shopping abilities.
And a huge thank you to Liz Claiborne for catering to the larger set. And shame on you, Jordache, for making jeans that had absolutely no give whatsoever, no matter how hard you tried to stretch them. Because they didn’t stretch. At all. And it doesn’t matter how I know that.
In any event, thank you Hashem for giving me only sons. The thought of having to take a mini-me shopping still gives me chills. Shopping for boys, especially boys who had a uniform dress code, was a breeze. Though Son #1 was always very slim, and I learned that when I was shopping for him, it was easier to find a husky size than it was a slim size. But other than that, easy breezy.
Shopping for camp was a tad bit more challenging, but still smooth sailing. My surrogate granddaughter received her “clothing guide” in the mail from her camp the other day. The list of the kinds of clothing that girls no longer can wear in this camp is quite lengthy, and it contains some styles of clothing that I have never even heard of. And types of sleeves I have never heard of either. Who knew? (Probably most people, but that’s okay.)
And now, thank you Hashem, I have three daughters-in-law and several assorted baked goods. Because I try to be a good mother-in-law, I have now, hopefully successfully, taken them all shopping at one time or another. This past week, I took Dil #3 shopping for the first time. (For the record, it was only the first time because she and Son #3 have been living in Israel, and even though I had offered before they left, there was never a time to go.) It is this most recent shopping experience that I would like to share with all of you. With permission from Dil #3, of course.
There is a store in the American Dream mall called The Address. I am sure that many of you have heard of it; if you have not, allow me to describe it to you. It is a department store catering to the very Orthodox Jewish individual. I have never seen anything like it.
There are clothes, kosher cookbooks, seforim (religious books), wigs, hats for the wigs, headbands for the wigs, children’s clothing, makeup for Shabbos, and, of course, kosher candy by the registers. I am sure that I am missing something. There was even a sign with arrows pointing to where you could find three-quarter sleeves or long sleeves, or, heavens forbid, no sleeves. (Listen, if you have the upper arms for it, more power to you.)
The clothing is divided by company, so if you have a favorite store that carries modest clothing, chances are they have it at this store. And it is open on Sunday, and that is why we were there.
We parked in the right section (parking lot C) and found the store after scanning the QR code. Dil #3 did that because what the heck is a QR code???? What happened to the “you are here” dot on the map?
All I can say is that this store is a people-watcher’s dream come true. I sat myself down on a chair, mainly because I didn’t want to hover over Dil #3, and I was in heaven. I especially enjoyed watching the woman who was in a full face of makeup and a fur coat saunter around the store. No, I didn’t not ask her why she was all dressed up. Yes, I really wanted to.
I observed mothers and daughters snapping at each other, and it just made me smile. Ahh, good times.
And the best news of all (aside from Dil #3 finding some dresses she liked) is that if you spend more than $20, they validate your parking!! That means it’s like everything you buy is free!!!
I am sticking to that story.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck talked to many strangers at the Address because her Oreos and Husband #1 weren’t there to make fun of her.
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