Please Touch The Merchandise

Online shopping leaves me empty and sad.

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

I miss shopping. And I don’t mean the soulless computer-mediated simulacrum of shopping we’ve all gotten used to.

Staring at a thumbnail-size photo of a sock is not the same as holding the sock. Feeling the sock. Cradling the sock like it’s a newborn. Looking deep into the warp and woof of the sock to judge its mettle as a foot glove. Will it endure? Will it fight the good fight without drooping around my ankles in defeat? Is this sock me?

I click. I buy. I am almost always disappointed. What I took to be tiny flowers imprinted on the sock are in fact flying cheeseburgers. Oh well, tomorrow is another day.

It’s gotten to the point where I use old-school shopping in role play. “You be the store employee, and I’ll be the annoying shopper who sends you back and forth between the fitting room and the racks to find the right size.”

You have a strained smile glued to your face. You begin to sweat. “No problem,” you chirp repeatedly. But your tone belies a growing sense of desperation. “A nine?” you ask doubtfully.

“Yes, a nine!”, I snap, slamming the bathroom door.

I despair of ever owning another pair of pants that aren’t 80% elastic. You can call yoga pants “pants” all you want…