The Glory of Nordstrom

Given the current set of circumstances in the world, does this mean retail therapy is out the window?

In defense of the female mind, it really does work.  There is a magical vapor that Nordstrom must emit from their entrance.  After walking through glass doors, marble shiny floors welcome one to the fresh scent of roses and citrus and whatever else Celine Dion has blended into her newest bottle of parfum shaped like a woman's hip.  The eyes open to clean neat aisles of red patent leather stilettos and studded knee high boots.  Not far away is the coffee bar adding all the more pleasure to this indulgent waltz through a place that must be called Tara.  I swear I see Scarlett sitting on the escalator forehand to forehead declaring that the troubles of the world can wait until tomorrow.  What she meant to add to that line was, "Right now I have to go shopping!"

The pianist on duty plays a melody of Somewhere Over the Rainbow and in my peripheral vision I see lacy lingerie and those thigh high panty hose and garters I've always wanted to give a go.  Chloe and Chanel are hypnotizing and I'm now declaring this is my True Religion.  Ah, fashion!  Glamour and self-expression and a basic therapeutic concentration on design.  And then the decision is made.  I must get it!  Done!

Now, with my pretty paper bag and tissue presented to me from around the counter, face to face, I feel special.  I'm the new proud owner of whatever is in my bag.  I must now plan something to wear it to.  One call to my best friend and that dilemma will be solved.  There is always a new restaurant to try and get all dolled up for.

But, recently there has been no Nordstrom trip in my day planner.  For two reasons that is so.  One, there is no Nordstrom in the small town of Saint Simons Island.  Nevertheless, its in my dreams and when I do get to Atlanta, I spend oodles of time there making up for my absence.  Two, with all the stress and anxiety surrounding financial issues at large, the fun is sucked out of Nordstrom like a helium balloon in the hands of well... any and every man I know.  Gone!  And all that's left is a very high-pitched elfish voice saying "you shoulda got those Jimmy Choos while you coulda!"

So, what should us gals do when we can't afford to be tempted by the glory of Nordstrom?  Reinvent our not-so-shabby-anyway wardrobes?  Or head to Marshall's instead?  Maybe embrace 'simplification' as a life theme?  As much as I'd like to forget my troubles until another day, this is probably the way to save the gold on the other side of piano man's rainbow.