Today I learned that I hate Bloomingdale's. I think I'm supposed to love Bloomingdale's, but I hate it. I have a $50 gift card for that store, and I've tried a couple of times to use it. Today I spent two hours in that awful place, alternately (1) attempting to squeeze my body into clothes that I think were designed for genetic mutants and (2) being pointedly ignored by the people who work there. (Actually I did do one other thing there: just before I left I knocked a bunch of pointy-toed stiletto mules off the clearance rack in the shoe department. That was accidental. Totally accidental, I tell you.)

Having failed miserably with pants, skirts, and shirts, I thought I would just hop over to lingerie and spend my $50 there. Well, forget it. $29 is just flat-out too much for one pair of underwear, microfiber or not. Also, the sales associate in lingerie turned out to be the same woman who, upon seeing me with a half-ton of clothing that I wanted to try on, jerked her head in the direction of the dressing rooms and snarled, "The fitting rooms are OPEN." Rrrrrrowr! Then when I came out, she asked me if she could help me with anything else. Anything ELSE? Gosh, no, I don't think so, thanks.

Then there was the shoe mishap (I got a big sigh and roll-of-the-eyes from the information-desk girl for that one) and after that I still had to slink past the make-up counters. Ick.

There's a happy ending, though (and I know you were biting your nails, hoping against hope that there would be), because after I left Bloomingdale's I picked up half of my summer wardrobe at Filene's Basement. So hah!

When I'm feeling up to it, I'll try to use the gift card at the new Bloomingdale's Home Store. I understand they have really useful $34 bamboo skewers and suchlike.

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