went in to a local bridal shop to assess their selection of evening gowns. I thought this was a cracking good idea, as bridal shops usually have loads and loads of catalogs they can dump in front of you and tell you that they can order anything you see in any size and color. cool.
so i walk in to this hoity-toity little shop (where i've never once seen a wedding dress in the window that i would be willing to be caught dead in), and tell the sales girl my intentions. they have no catalogs, but only a rack of about 15 different gowns, all of them strapless (not my thing) and poofy (also not my style). There was one that ok-ish, and i asked to see the available color swatches. after almost 10 minutes of rooting around for them like a pig in search of truffles, she brought them out. the only one worth considering was black.
i told her i didn't really see anything that appealed to me, and thanked her for her time. and then the cheeky, condescending cow said this:
Well, you might have better luck over at TK Maxx. They have lots of designer one-offs that might be more to your taste and budget. You have to keep going back over and over because their stock turnover is quite high. Do you know where TK Maxx is, over in Broadmead?
TK Maxx??? TK effing MAXX???? what TK Maxx has is a bunch of flawed dresses that wouldn't even sell off the designer clearance racks! dressing with stains and missing buttons/ribbons/sequence/beads etc with loose threads and snags and zippers that stick that have been tried on and sweated in by 30 people who strained the seams.
(Let me just add the caviat to this snobbish statement that I have no problem whatsover with TK couture, and discount dresses are great for certain types of events, like when you need a dress for an Athletic Union Boat Club formal ball thingy and you want something cheap so that if the captain of the rugby club spills his lager all over you and some twat steps on your hem and tears it and your best mate gets barf on you while you help her stagger to the loo you don't care because the dress is disposable and you're going to take it off on your stoop and burn it before you even bring it into the flat anyway. But that's not what I'm looking for. Because I already HAVE one of those dresses, and I've been wearing it for 3 years, and that's what the Pirate is trying to REPLACE with something a little more dignified.)
The point is that while I was prepared to invest real money in a good, quality, flattering, formal gown, the aristocratic BITCH took one look at me and assumed she knew everything about me, including my budget, taste, and intentions. Ever seen Pretty Woman? It was that scene. You know the one. I can't wait to walk back in there with the Pirate and some absolutely stunning creation from Bond Street and tell her where to go. Oh yeah.
(I told the Pirate about this incident, and I must have become quite animated and emphatic because he said to me "I can tell you're over it. That's good." Sarcastic bastard.)