Tall Poppy Diaries

Observations and musings on life as a happy high-achiever (or what the Aussie's call a "Tall Poppy" ). "Unless you choose to do great things with it, it makes no difference how much you are rewarded, or how much power you have." --Oprah Winfrey

Wednesday, February 09, 2005


  MBF'sW, Part 2: A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Tiffany's

Friday: Friday morning, I woke up, checked in with Scarlett and then checked in with Tiffany's to figure out why the bowls had not yet been delivered. After 30 minutes on the phone with them, they finally said that they had no record of the transaction. Zero. Zippola. At this point, instead of saying, "We are so sorry that we can't get our acts together. We will deliver the bowls personally today (since the delivery address is less than a mile away from Tiffany's) and we apologize for our error", they said, "We're sorry. But to make it up to you, we'll have it delivered Next Day UPS which would get it there Monday since they don't make weekend deliveries."

Too. Late. At this point I'm thinking, "New York would be serving heads on a platter at the Monday morning 'Team meeting' ", but it was very clear that Orlando WAS NOT NYC, that I was NOT a priority, and that if I wanted the bowls to get to the bride before the wedding I would have to cancel my plans for lunch with Dewey's mom and sister and head on out to the Mall at Millennia to take care of "bidness" myself. So, I put on my favorite power-shopping outfit and headed down I-4. (For the record, The Mall at Millennia is the ONLY place I went all week where I didn't make a single wrong turn. Coincidence? I don't think so.)

My day at Millennia started off quite innocently. I planned to pick up the bowls at Tiffany's, then head to Bloomie's or somewhere to pick up some red jewelry, 'cause I decided AFTER I left my red jewelry at home that I wanted to wear my red shoes with my black and white suit for the wedding. In order to pull THAT off, I would need some red jewelry to make it look like I had planned it that way. Right? Of course.

So, I'm walking toward Tiffany's, minding my own business, and casually look up to see...Mecca! Oh. My. Gosh. It's MECCA, people! You KNOW how much I hate malls. But suddenly, before my eyes, in a shopping mall in the middle of MickeyWorld, stood Chanel. And Dior. And Coach. And BCBG. And Gucci. And Burberry. And Tiffany's. And there...just steps away from Tiffany's--Jimmy. Choo. A real, live, honest-to-goodness Jimmy Choo store.

As any good girl from Alabama, who's stuck in the frozen tundra, but who has been allowed to leave the state for good behavior would do, I averted my gaze, headed directly toward my destination and allowed the shock of finding Mecca on I-4 to sink in. For the next hour, I shopped for bowls, browsed the jewelry counter and chatted it up with the Tiffany's sales team. I did my best to avoid leaving the store, but I knew that I had to--eventually. I knew I was feeling weak, but I can't remember having ever had a REALLY low moment with a credit card--ever. So with renewed confidence in my ability to withstand torturous temptation, my honkin' big blue Tiffany's bag in hand, and my adorable Brighton mules (easy to slip off) on my feet, I headed out the door at Tiffany's and took a sharp left into Jimmy Choo.

Now, it goes without saying that my eyes would immediately gravitate toward anything pink. There are evidently LOTS of people who have the same weakness as I do, for no less than 25% of all of the shoes and handbags in Jimmy Choo were pink. Helpless against the gravitational pull of the classic lines, flirty straps, high heels and the scent of luscious PINK LEATHER, I went to the left and worked my way around the store--to the boots.

Just let me say this as a warning right now...'cause I'm your friend. And I don't want you to be caught unaware and unprepared the way I was. There is little doubt in my mind that the folks at Jimmy Choo pump a pheromone-esque chemical through the air vents in their stores that makes you totally incapable of resuming normal brain function once you step through their doors. As embarrassed and weak as I feel admitting this, I confess--I got stoned just breathing the air at Jimmy Choo.

I could've been arrested for "Shopping While Intoxicated". I mean, REALLY! Right off the bat, "DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! (**red lights flashing**)", I made a rookie mistake. I tried on the most expensive items FIRST! So wrong on SO many levels. I KNOW that you never try on the most expensive item first, 'cause it dulls your reasoning ability later on when you try on less expensive items that are still OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive. Nonetheless, off came the mules and on went the $800 boots. Ahhhh...the back zipper that lay perfectly flat and invisible. The tapered ankle that didn't bunch. The smell of them. The LOOK of them. Oh My Gosh! They were fantastic. And the HEELS! I was over 6' 1'' in those puppies! Can you imagine?

OK, well even in my pheromonally-inebriated state, I knew that those boots were out of my budget. But suddenly the $500-600 strappy's didn't seem so bad after all. I took a few of them for a test drive. I liked Arty, and Groom, and Glory, and Phil. But it was Edgar--in hot pink--on the sale table--who stole my heart (Edgar is on the second row, right, with the rhinestone circles). At $365, he was a shoe just MADE for walking out that door with me. And I just couldn't imagine leaving for home without him. Plus there was a fabulous bag--on the sale table. Heck, I could get the pocketbook AND Edgar for less than one pair of boots. It was a deal I couldn't pass up.

But first, I needed to call Dewey's parents to let them know that I wasn't going to be making it to their hotel for my afternoon visit after all. So I slipped Edgar off my foot, walked out into the Millennia corridor so as not to disturb the other intoxicated customers, and called Dewey's parents. His father answered the phone:

Me: Hey! It' me. I'm still at the Mall and I'm thinkin' I'm probably not going to make it back in time to visit before the wedding rehearsal. So I just didn't want y'all to be worried about me.
Dewey's Daddy: Sweetheart, you've been at the Mall for over two hours. Is everything okay?
Me: Oh yeah, it's GREAT! I just had no idea that the Mall had so many incredible stores! I'm in heaven. I can't leave. 'Cause I just found some shoes that I've really got to have--and I think I just found a purse to match. Did you know that there's a Jimmy Choo store here? And there are all these others stores that I need to visit....
Dewey's Daddy: Honey, can you tell me? Are there ANY female members of my family there with you right now? I just woke up from my nap and everyone is gone.
Me: Oh no. I'm alone.
Dewey's Daddy: Thank Goodness. OK. Now we need to get you out of there. Now!
Me: No really. It's good. I tried on the really expensive stuff, and I found a couple of pairs of shoes that I like. A lot. But in the end, the shoes that I really love were on the sale table. They're under $400! Can you believe it? (*pheromones starting to wear off slightly as I breathe in the fresher air outside the store--something didn't seem quite right about what I just said...*)
Dewey's Daddy (*wringing his hands, giving thanks to God that Dewey didn't listen to him all those years when he was trying to convince him to marry me*): OK, Sweetheart. Now do I have Hubby's number here with me? I'm thinking I may need some back-up to get you out of there. What's his number again?
Me: No, I mean...ummm...hmmm.... Yeah. I mean, I'm not ready to come back yet. I haven't gotten everything I needed to get. And that's why I called....
Dewey's Daddy: Did you get the gift straightened out?
Me: Yes.
Dewey's Daddy: OK, then don't you need to just come on back?
Me: (*silence*) I don't know. Do I?
Dewey's Daddy: Yes, Honey. You do.
Me: (*walking slowly back into Jimmy Choo--holding my breath--to grab my blue bag, my purse, and give a "thank you" wave to the salesperson (aka: The Enabler)*) OK, well, I'm going to walk down to Bloomingdales and grab some cheap ol' costume jewelry, then I'll be on my way back.
Dewey's Daddy: Are you sure you're going to be all right? You can call me if you need me.
Me: I know. Thanks....

I realized as I flipped my cell phone closed, that all of those times that I had been so "good" with my credit card weren't because I was so good at withstanding temptation. It was, quite simply, that I hadn't been shopping in the right stores. And so it was, that I left Jimmy Choo without the hot pink Edgars. And I walked past all of the other designer stores, window shopping as I passed--from a careful fresh-air distance of 2-3 feet.

I found some lovely red jewelry in about the 10th store I looked in (I'm thinkin' red is NOT a hot color this season), and I found a gorgeous black camisole with a built-in bra on sale at BCBG that I really needed. I didn't NEED Edgar. But I wanted him. Badly. And by golly, the next time I go shopping at Jimmy Choo, I'll be prepared--with my own cash. 'Cause most men don't fully appreciate the look, feel and smell of a really fabulous, comfortable, high-heeled shoe. But, take it from me, boys--Edgar at $365? Pheromones or no pheromones, that is SUCH a bargain....

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