Vintage Post / I love hate sample sales

12 years ago by

Today, I want to republish – and to have it translated in english for the first time ! – that text I wrote in …2007. Kisses and have a wonderful sunday!

Are you tired of talking about sample sales? Me too. So there’s no chance we’ll talk about the sample sales at the Prairies de Paris (it’s a french fashion I am sure you would like). So there you have it, in honor of my detox week, it’s time for my green tea, and yoga is calling my name, so have a good weekend.

Yoga? Seriously? Okay, I’ll talk bout the Prairies de Paris sales some, then I’ll stop. This whole week has a lot of then I’ll stop moments actually. Yep, then I’ll stop all the then I’ll stops and we’ll talk about crazy stuff.

And it’s definitely the week of then I’ll stop with the sample sales. That’s a given.

What I’m trying to say is that if I want to stay a respectable and distinguished person (of course I’m distinguished) I just have to stop with this stuff. It’s becoming pathetic.

I’ll get this out quick. I came out totally empty handed at Prairies de Paris. Nothing, nada. Still, I waited in line, and in line, I heard…

“These sample sales are more than they were. There should be private sample sales only for girls who’ve been coming to private sample sales for more than 10 years.”

Then I put my iPod on since I much prefer to listen to José. Actually, I was reciting some mantras (it was, after all, my detox week.) to prepare myself psychologically to be leaping over a few bodies.

Yep, the private sales at Les Prairies were totally boot camp. Picture this (and I’m not exaggerating. In my detox week, I’ve promised to tell everything exactly how it is. It’s good karma), 200 half-naked girls squeezed together into 75 square feet. You can’t picture it? Make some effort.

There, you see it now?

But where is our Garance, you might ask? Good question.

She’s on all fours trying to not to get trampled to get a pair of I LOVE NY ballet flats from a bin (Yep, I love NY and AND bins) using only her mouth, as her arms are being used to protect the four dresses she grabbed while leaping ON a clothes rack and ON a girl’s shoulders who was trying on I LOVE PARIS boots. From there, I was picturing a hardcore rivalry between the two world capitals and it was only, you might say, one foot away, ahah.

From there, she (Garance, schizo) sees a pair of striped patent ballet flats like all of us have always dreamed to have in our life and grabs them. She then hears a shout, “Hey! Hands off!” Shoot. Oh crap… Didn’t she just grab… THE FOOT OF THE SHOPGIRL ? She puts back the shoe foot in its place, with a stupid full of teeth smile.

It had to be right then that my dignity – that had left me for a while to go get a latte from the Starbucks near the Bastille – reintegrated my body. I pulled myself together and looked around me, like an owl, watching the action of the ant-hill below. I scoped it out tight-lipped which seemed to make all the girls around put all their aggression right on me, and I ran off before getting the I LOVE LONDON thrown at me.

(to tell the truth, IHMDW**, in all the craziness, I remember that samples, in sample sales, are ALWAYS size ones. And I’m no size one. So I left my four dresses where they were)

I put José back in my ears and said that private sales are as done as done, cause I have a little sense of self and dignity and that from now on I will buy clothes IN THE STORES, at their real price. That said, to do so, I’d have to find a real job, but that’s another story.

So, off I went like the wind in the meadows (?!!?), piping hot with total disgust for life, and off I went to Monop’ (Monop’ is like, kind of Target but smaller and much better)(always go to Monop’ when you’re this depressed)(and definitely when it’s IHMDW).

And I end up finding the most charming shirt ever. Wahoooo! I cry out (as if I’m saying no no no me? Frustrated by the sale at Prairies? No no no, not me. So excited about this shirt I found? Yes please)(and distinguished, may I remind you). The color is just so pretty, the cut, so perfect (and again, there I am, totally not frustrated at all) that I end up buying not only the shirt version, but the dress as well.

Voilà. IHMDW, I’m going to detoxify with the longest post ever, even for those who (Hey, see that boys? See how I’m thinking of you) who have made it all the way to the end, I should invite you all over for tea at my place (come on over, we’ll try on Monop’ shirts!).

Oh, how about some champagne too? You’re so courageous to come this far, we’ll put the IHMDW on hold for a sec, no?

Okay, time for yoga!

Yoga ? Nooooo, just kidding.


* In Honor Of My Detox Week (I had to shorten it or the post would be wayyy too long.)


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