Off to Chicos
Sometimes Gail and Susan are Thelma and Louise, tearing up the countryside. Today, they were Laverne and Shirley.
Dinner party here tonight, so Karl is cooking up a storm. The rest of us wandered down to Winter Park to commit a little shopping and eat lunch. Lunch was nothing to speak of at a very average Italian place. It bored me, I won’t bore you.
Chicos is some kind of phenomenon of American marketing–they appeal to a huge number of women who no longer wear miniskirts and see-thru tops, women who say the can’t find the clothes at The Fifth Collection they want in any other store. From their webite:
Chico’s was founded in 1983 as a small boutique selling Mexican folk art and cotton sweaters on Sanibel Island in Florida. Our friendly environment and unique styles connected with customers in a special way that quickly evolved into over 700 Chico’s boutiques nationwide, a monthly catalog, and round-the-clock shopping at chicos.com.
The store itself is not huge, not a separate building, just a storefront on the main drag.
Gail isn’t a big fan of shopping, and I am most certainly no welcome to go with her. Usually, nobody is allowed to accompany her, but she makes an exception for Susan. I got to wander the streets of Winter Park, where I noticed this bench outside the store.
I had to ask, and indeed I was right: these guys were waiting for their wives, too. This apparently is the unofficial husbands waiting room .
Fortunately, people who hate to shop don’t take long doing it.
Success. Something was purchased, not that there will be any modeling going on. Someday i’ll see Gail in something and she’ll tell me it’s what she got with Susan, Maybe.