I hate clothes shopping. I know, I know, I also hate "The New Yorker" and packing boxes. There must be something I like...but I digress. Shopping is at the top of my 'most dreaded' list. This is no more evident than looking in my closet, where my friend Adria recently spent about 30 seconds before she started screaming. "Is this it?! Where are the rest of your clothes?" Sheepishly I stammered, "I don't know....oh wait... there are few things in my office closet ". I took her hand, marched her there, and stood with my head down so as not to witness her expression. "Are you kidding?! There's no such thing as a Jewish princess with so little clothing"! Crap. I was busted and demoted. I felt ashamed and questioned the validity of my DNA. She was right, I was a disgrace to my "title" and mother. Mom btw, could dress the entire third world with the clothes in her closet she has never worn.
I was determined to prove Adria wrong. I was a Jewish Princess! With trepidation and medication I set forth. First stop, JCrew , where I had my friend K on speaker phone. "Now go to the back of the store and look at the "minis"....so cute", she commanded. "Then you definitely need the little blue pin striped jacket with the rolled up cuffs....oh, and ask the salesmen to show you the jeans in all those great colors". Click. I was overwhelmed and had started to itch. What "cuffs", what "minis"? I left the store in tears, searching desperately for the meds. "I am a Jewish princess... I know I am... I know I am".
I set out again the very next day with my mother in tow. After all why not bring along the Czar of shopping as support. Store one, I stayed long enough to try on two pairs of pants. My shopping A.D.D. kicked in and we left. Store two, I didn't get as far as a dressing room before I dragged my mother by the hand out the door. "MOM, let's go, I hate everything"! I'm not sure she was completely in the car before I pulled away from the curb. Store three, same scenario, only this time faster. Mom was getting dizzy from our pace. I offered her the meds. Store four I was dazed and prepared to face my fate...I wasn't a Princess because I didn't have a wardrobe worthy of the crown. Then like a "once upon a time" moment, I spotted a consignment rack. Thanks to a quaking economy a sexy little black dress called to me and I grabbed it. "Mine"! Was I on a roll? A fabulous jacket was next; so cool, so soft, so cheap! I was suddenly giddy. I did it...I shopped and purchased. The crown was mine!
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But you are! YOU ARE a Jewish Princess! Don’t let anyone take that title away from you, you deserve it, If anyone takes your crown away I will cry... I have a solution to your shopping troubles and traumas.. (I am full of solutions today ha? I'm also full of shit but that's another Oprah show)The solution iiiiissssss SHOP ON LINE, yes ma'am you can go into any store's website and shop till your mouse crashes, you will avoid lines, people, try this, try that etc... One thing I do advise for you to get is a pair of red shoes, put them on and say "I am a Jewish Princess, I am a Jewish Princess" and while you are at it you can add "I'm good enough, smart enough and people like me just because I am a Jewish Princess"
You know, like Dorothy and Toto, same thing, it worked for her it should work for you and your little Mama too…
OR you can do what I do; get a small closet so it always looks full. Ok must go now, Neiman Marcus Rabbi is calling, he wants to see if I want my “Jewish Princess” title again, I pass thank you, I’ll just be THE PRINCESS with no religion attached, Thank God!.
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