Today I'm browsing in the designer bag area of Bloomingdale's in Orange County, just looking. The sales lady hardly takes me seriously; she seems to see right through to my practicality. She doesn't ask me if I need help, nothing. Two young 20's come near. Both girls are blond, one with long straight hair and the other with a short bob. Both wear mini skirts and t-shirts. One girl's top says, "Don't hate on me" with a princess crown graphic. The other carries a giant Louis Vuitton bag. Gold bangle bracelets clink with every move. "May I help you ladies?" the sales person says:
Bangles: Yeah. Let me see this one, please.
Lady: Oh, that's a lovely bag. You've got great taste!
Bob: Oooooh! I love it, Stacia! Do you love it?
Bangles: It's alright. Yeah, I like it.
Lady: It's very stylish, honey. Very classy.
Bangles: Yeah, it's cute. Okay, thanks. We'll be back later.
The girls go towards the wallets and I follow:
Bob: You didn't like it? You're not getting it?
Bangles: Nope. I'm gonna tell my dad I'm depressed and he'll give me $500 bucks to go shopping. We'll come back tomorrow.
Both girls continue looking at wallets and openly displayed bags. Bangles's huge Vuitton bag knocks into the edge of a display and two bags fall on the floor. She doesn't pick them up.