Shop till I drop!

There is nothing more depressing than to shop in Paris when you don't like shopping in the first place! First of all, there are so many selections that if I had wanted to shop seriously, I would never have been able to make up my mind which store to shop in! Every store has a wonderful store window that shows you how you could look if you bought their clothes and didn't eat for an entire year!

I was on a mission to find a simple long sleeve black t-shirt to wear in layers. The first store I went in I soon realized that my size wasn't in there.

"Madame, theez iz not Lane Bryantz!" Well no they didn't say that, but it was obvious that they were talking petite and I am not!

I went into a few more stores with no luck and finally in one store I pointed to a picture on the wall, and the salesgirl shook her head no, no. Did that mean "no she didn't have it in stock" or "no, it would never fit you"? I didn't stick around to ask.

By this time I am thoroughly depressed by my lack of success and lo and behold what do I spot? McDONALD'S! (I also had to use the restroom and one thing you can always count on is a bathroom at McDonald's!) So I sent Jim up to the counter to get a diet coke and a filet of fish and off I go to the potty room. (I just can't get used to boys and girls being in the same restroom. Of course we have separate stalls, but we all wash our hands together in one big room).

I must say that the filet of fish was the very best one I have had for a long time!! Of course Jim was mortified that I was eating a fish sandwich in McDonald's when we have all of this French cuisine around us, but I just wanted some comfort food before I hit the streets again to shop (do you see the problem with all of this?)

Now that I have been fortified, I am bound and determined to find something so off I go some more, dragging a very reluctant husband along, (I told him he could stay at the apartment) and I finally found 2 stores that had something that fit me!

I found my black t-shirt at a darling store called Zara's. It is simple by Parisian standards but that's just what I wanted. But now with just a little success under my belt I thought I should prolong my agony and go into more stores and I found a darling Parisian shirt (you know the kind they wear over here that sets them apart from the American's) at Armand Thiery's. When I asked the salesclerk what did size 5 mean, she looked confused and finally she said 46. I looked perplexed and said I didn't understand and she finally said, "Try it on, our sizes run large!" She seemed to speak perfect English that time!! Nevertheless, it fits nicely and now I have a new, couture, Parisian blouse to wear (OK, I am not sure if it's couture since it only cost 30 Euros.)

By now Jim is tired of tagging along so I send him on home and I tackle the rest of the shopping on my own. Next I was trying to buy hair dye. Of all days, today was the day I convinced Jim to leave the dictionary at home. Bad move on my part. I literally spent one hour trying to decide if the hair color numbers match the ones in US. I went with L'Oreal #6 (like I would at home) but when I got home and looked up the words in the dictionary it reads golden blonde. It doesn't look golden blonde on the picture so I will keep you posted after I use it.

I got home, unloaded my purchases, felt thoroughly drained and decided that Paris shopping and I are not meant to be. Print this post