Too Poor for the Floor

I don't really think of my family as poor. We aren't. Dad has a good job... and he always has. We aren't excessive in our spending. We can't buy whatever we want, but we've always been able to afford what we needed. I've never felt poor.

Compared to the people surrounding us yesterday though, Mum and I felt poor.

We went to the mall near the airport. We've gone to almost every mall in the county, but never this one. Ok, that isn't strictly true. I've been there twice. Once when I was about 14, I went out for lunch and a movie with a couple of friends. The second time was more recently, but I went in to buy a gift certificate for someone at a store located year the entrance to the mall. On neither occasion did I peruse the shops or even really look around. Yesterday was different.

Yesterday, we entered the mall near the Bloomingdale's. Never been to Bloomingdale's before. We didn't go in, since we were search of food first. We looked at the little map thing and decided to go to the Nordstrom Cafe. It was clear on the other side of the mall, but we didn't mind the walk and (more importantly) I'd eaten there before without having an allergic reaction. So off we tromped.

Looking from side to side at the various shops we passed, we noticed two things: first, they were all designer stores (GUCCI & LOUIS VUITTON!!!) and everyone was wearing designer products (EXPENSIVE & FANCY!!!). Both of these findings were disconcerting: we were definitely in the wrong income bracket to be in this mall. We were definitely under-dressed.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

I told Mum, as we strolled through in our shorts and t-shirts, "Just exude confidence." She responded with, "Yes, just pretend you dressed this way on purpose to make a statement." Right. Ok. Into Nordstrom we went (passing a TIFFANY & CO. and NEIMEN MARCUS on the way!!!) and headed to the third level. There were pretty lights everywhere. Mirrors on all the walls. The floor was shiny as all get out. (Seriously, the white and black marble was polished to mirror standards.) Up the escalator we went.

First stop: the super fancy, chic lounge bathroom. It was the size of a small home. Everyone in it looked like they were going out for a nice night on the town. I felt like I was in one of those dreams where you realize you're up in front of a bunch of people completely naked. I wasn't naked, but the glares I received from the snobby rich ladies seemed to indicate that I might as well have been.

Second stop: lunch. I made a complete fool of myself, not knowing how one is supposed to order at the Nordstrom Cafe. It's a weird combo of buffet/order first/sit down meal restaurant. I was so confused. And under-dressed. Couldn't really get the under-dressed part out of my mind. We ate, while a nice man (Gustav?) waited on our table. Needless to say, we didn't much feel like lingering.

As we were trying to exit the store, Mum was having difficulty walking. Her shoes kept catching on the super shiny floor. "Look, Mum," I said, "we're too poor to even walk on the floor." We giggled to ourselves as we left, inciting annoyed stares from the snobby rich ladies.

We definitely didn't fit in around there. But we were definitely alright with that.