Lord of the Faux Leather Heels (at the Saks Fifth Avenue Clearance Sale)

The Saks 5th Avenue in my area was having an 80% off sale. I went in. This was my first mistake.  

It started off so innocently.  I had normal thoughts and was well hydrated. The moment I walked in, however, something primal and tragic took over my body. There were clothing on racks everywhere in no particular order, just cashmere sweaters next to silk blouses next to high-dollar fancy jeans. I could smell blood in this place. Women with ravaged eyes and the smell of blood were grabbing carts and running around like it was Supermarket Sweep. There were no sizes anywhere.  Just racks of clothes you had to thumb through like an animal.

If anything, I am competitive. THIS IS MY DAY. You better watch out, all the women who are furiously pushing hangers to the left.

I couldn’t find a cart so I grabbed a wheeled basket, then decided upon two, and bee-lined to the shoe department. I immediately found some adorable suede heels and some Tod’s boots in black. IN THE CART THEY FLEW. With the discount, the shoes were all hovering around seven to ten dollars a pair, so as fast as you can say “Sam Edelman” my little tiny rolling baskets were full.

Someone was eyeing a nude pair of pumps in my cart until I gave her the evil eye.  Another woman asked me where I found that adorable BCBG sweater that was stuffed in my tiny rolling basket.  I just waived my arms around the entire store like “where else do you think I got it?” Hanging on the rack with the tiny jeans and overcoats in size 3XL of course! Let me live! I thought briefly she may try and swipe it from me.  Keep an eye on that one.  

One lady couldn’t take it anymore. She looked directly in my eyes like we were kindred spirits.  “This place is crazy,” she said.  “It’s like people have gone mad!” You’re damn right they have.  Clearly, she misjudged my face.  I was no like-minded professional woman with a conscience.  I’m going to get this wispy silk blouse in cream for $7 and no absolutely NO ONE CAN STOP ME.

“More for the rest of us,” I thought. We are in Lord of the Flies and I’m damn sure going home with this see-through sweater.

This should have been the first clue my faculties were interrupted.  And yet when you’re in the middle of a drunken shopping spree, you can only continue forward.  Sadly, there is only one direction and that’s right clear through. I see that now. I would have pulled a chanel bag directly out of the hands of my own mother.  I wasn’t in my right mind. 

Next up was the dilemma of buying clothing you cannot try on as the dressing rooms are not safe due to COVID, and the fact that you don’t want to nestle up next to other people sifting through racks and you try to maintain a safe distance. And the absurdity that nothing was hung in the general collection of sizes so you just had to hope and pray that Brunello Cucinelli shirt was not a size zero.  It was, of course.

I finally spotted the crown jewel – a long beautiful cashmere sweater that tied at the waist. They were originally well over three hundred dollars but were now around $60, which wasn’t dirt cheap but I was prepared for this investment, and I rubbed my masked-face across its soft veneer, imagining myself around a fire wrapped in nothing but cashmere from head to toe, drinking red wine and eating expensive cheese.

I found an abandoned basket in this free-for-all madhouse and grabbed it, transferring all my shoes and my sweaters. I got some make-up bags in silver in three different sizes that I don’t even know who I’ll give to and what they are even for but they were on SALE SALE SALE and I found myself losing all grip on reality.

By the time I left, I was carrying so many bags it hurt my arms.  By the time I got home, I realized I grabbed the wrong cashmere sweater and it was a size small, and half the silk shirts were too large and needed taking in.  Somehow I ended up with a rogue black shoe in a size 4 that the poor haggard sales person threw in by mistake.  Did I actually buy face oil in the smell of roses?  Is that a straw hat?

I got in the car and drank water and took some deep breaths.  I’m not sure what happened in there.  Something deep rooted and wild. I’ve gone mad.  Was the thousands in savings worth half my day? Then I realized I left behind a perfectly good pair of maroon crocodile Michael Kors heels because “twenty dollars just wasn’t a price I was willing to pay.” 

Hydrate, Amanda, you’re going back in.  This is your moment.  THOSE HEELS ARE YOURS.