I had to get out of the office this afternoon. It was one of those days that I couldn't break out for lunch and it was too early to leave but if I didn't get the hell out of my office, the walls would close in on me. So I did. And I recruited another refugee.
After piddling around the neighborhood, we ended up at this new little area of shops that just opened up. One of those places that make you feel 5 (or more) years older than you really are because of the cool factor. It's oozing from its hiply painted walls. I wanted to stop in because I'd heard of a hair salon that I'd been wanting to try. My last salon was great until the stylist told me she wanted to do a $200 every 2 months hair color on me. Then I was out the door.
Anyway, next to the hair salon was something I've been waiting for for the last 7 years: a plus size boutique. In my world, boutique usually translates into "overpriced clothes for old ladies." However, in this city, boutiques mean "overpriced clothes you that are unique." The place was called Flaunt, which seemed like a reasonable name because the owner was a big lady who was flaunting it.
For those of you who haven't had the experience of walking into a store and instantly having to dart to the shoe section because you know nothing else will fit you, you aren't missing much. What you are missing are the looks of disdain and annoyance (some imagined, some real) from salespeople who know that either you aren't going to gain them any real commission or your going to require scissors and needlenose pliers during your visit.
Flaunt had none of that. I walked in, felt at home and a great sense of freedom and satisfaction knowing that everything in the room would fit me. Not only fit me, but was designed to look good on people like me. The prices didn't even give me convulsions. In fact, with all the increases at Lane Bryant, the prices at Flaunt were about the same. So, I'm officially hooked. However, if this saga ends anything like my love affair with Arrested Development, I'm totally screwed.
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