Shopping Trip

The weather has been – uh – dramatic.  Tornadoes swept across Texas last night, wiping out the little town of Granbury.  This afternoon the sky over Dallas was gray but not threatening.  I went shopping. 

First stop was the post office.  My friends include old people who do not use computers.  I still write letters.  At the sub-station where in the past I’ve stood in line for half an hour, this time in mid-afternoon a single Hispanic man stood behind the counter, no other customers in sight.  The congenial clerk helped me with “forever” stamps.  I chose the set showing Washington monuments framed with cherry blossoms.  With additional stamps for overseas mail, I spent $29.40. 

From the post office I drove onto the freeway – my heart in my throat as I merged between two enormous trucks – and climbed on the high bridge over the interchange between I-30 and 635 to exit at the Town East shopping center.  My goal: the SAS shoe store. 

I always wear SAS loafers.  They are comfortable; I wear them all day and my feet don’t hurt. At the back of my closet I have a shelf with a dozen shoe boxes.  Inside are all types of shoes:  sandals, my old hiking boots, and some low-heeled pumps, both black and navy blue.   I have not taken them out of the boxes since I moved to Montclair four years ago. 

On the floor at the other end of the closet are the three pairs of shoes I wear every day: black loafers, tan loafers, and an ancient pair of black ones that I use as house slippers.  SAS shoes never wear out.  Today I wore the tan pair that I’ve had for about ten years.

With summer coming I decided to buy white shoes to go with my new pastel blue, mint green, and mauve tee shirts and pants.  I do not follow fashions, but I try to look presentable so my grandchildren will not be ashamed to be seen with me.

At the shop, a gray-haired saleslady bustled around and brought out “pearl bone” loafers, exactly as I ordered, in size 5 ½ extra wide.  The price was $110.   I am a child of the Depression.  I am reluctant to spend money.   SAS shoes are handcrafted in real leather.  I took out my credit card.

As the saleswoman put my new shoes in the box, she said, “We had a handbag which will go perfectly with these.  May I show it to you?”

She went to a nearby shelf and handed me a bulky purse which exactly matched the pearl color of the shoes.  She stroked the leather and said, “Feel how soft this is.”

My children always tell me I am rich.  They urge me to buy whatever I want.  I took the purse and looked at the $150 price tag.  I have money in the bank to pay for it – and the shoes – and the stamps – when the credit card bill comes due.  I guess I am rich. 

The saleswoman was not finished.  As she rang up the sale, she said, “All our bags are named for wives of presidents.  Your bag is the Barbara.”
 
She went back to the shelf of handbags.  “This is the Lady Bird.”  She brought me a bulky black bag with a wide side strap fastened with a shiny brass buckle.  Then she showed me a little side zipper, which she opened and slipped her entire hand inside the purse.  “This is where you can carry your handgun.”

I laughed out loud.  How typically Texan!  SAS stands for San Antonio Shoes, and they are made in San Antonio, Texas.  I should not be surprised that  SAS provides a handbag where Texas women can conceal their guns.  I did not buy the Lady Bird, but . . .

Look at me, a confirmed Democrat!  All summer I will carry a handbag named for Barbara Bush.