I did some more data entry at the SFBC, ate a picnic lunch in Union Square, rode around looking for a real Wells Fargo bank, not just an ATM, to cash my bookkeeping-job checks (my mad-money), after which I braved the new Bloomingdale's on Market - OMG - so that's where women who dress well go to get their clothes! - the first thing I looked at was a simple, well-cut, well-made basic black dress, marked down from $1,500 to only $897!
I put on my glasses and couldn't see, blamed it on having ridden my bike all over looking for the damn bank, kept rubbing my eyes and looking for spots on the glass, kept feeling disoriented and weird until I finally just started looking over the top of them.
That place was really, really confusing and hard to deal with. I liked the old Emporium with its creaky, wooden floors and dank, funky smell a whole lot better. And I think the old dome was prettier, too.
When I was growing up we would take the train up from San Mateo or San Carlos, my mother in white gloves and hat - me in my patent leather Mary Jane's, my little brother, Tommy, in his odd-fitting suit - to get our fall school clothes. We'd go again before Christmas, and again in the spring. It was such an adventure. Somehow, I don't think kids today get the same fun out of going to a mall.
This new downtown shopping center is a vertical mall.
Santa-land was deserted. In fact there were very few shoppers. Probably all at the Serramonte Target.
I escaped Bloomingdale's and, feeling so much better about the sinking dollar and what a bargain my trip will be compared to a well-cut, well-made basic black dress, I bought my euros. Yes, the dress would last longer, but where would I wear it?
Hours later, I discovered I'd taken my computer glasses for working at the Bicycle Coalition office, not my shopping, not my tourist's glasses, which I only need to read price tags and maps, but they have a different focal point, so when I tried to look around they didn't work right. That's a relief! I'm not losing my sight after all.
O.K., now you know what I look like without a helmet, with computer glasses, without makeup. The real me - except, along with Nora Ephron, I feel bad about my neck.