An Altar to Spending and $5,000 Purses
DALLAS — Inside the NorthPark Center is a sculpture titled Fountainhead. Images of folding currency stream down the sides, an endless river of money descending in two-dimensional form. The sculpture resembles a smaller version of one of those fake rock walls one can pay to climb, often in malls such as NorthPark. The purpose of this sculpture, I later read, is to encourage people to donate money to worthy causes. That was not immediately obvious. I figured it was an altar to spending, which seemed fitting. That is what the hordes of folks crowding this place the weekend after New Year’s were there to do, seeking bargains at high-end stores such as Nordstrom’s and Neiman-Marcus.
We elected to escape Longview for a few days before school resumed, to stay in a high-rise hotel downtown and enjoy the big-city lights. And yes, indulge our 16-year-old daughter’s penchant for shopping. Like her mom, she has a sharp eye for bargains among the mountains of merchandise. I bring a book and decamp to a comfortable chair outside Nordstrom’s. Usually I fall asleep at some point, lulled into a trance by the unending cacophony of footsteps, rustling bags and prattle. You can spot gray-haired men like me throughout the mall, catching a few winks of shut-eye in the leather chairs while their spouses shop. We are generally harmless.
On occasion I get up and walk the mall to get the circulation moving again. It contains a number of shops whose clerks likely would look askance if I attempted to enter, since I am dressed in a Boston Red Sox World Series Champion sweatshirt, jeans, and ballcap. I don’t look like a rich guy slumming, more like someone who has no business shopping at Roberto Cavalli or Rolex. Some of the more elite stores appear to stock only about 100 items, placed carefully on glass shelves. Well-dressed men and women stand at attention to guard the merchandise. Purses and jewelry dominate. Daughter Abbie tells me a purse in one of these stores can fetch $5,000.
Now that is just crazy talk. Five grand for a purse? You start throwing money around like that and pretty soon you won’t have any money to put in the purse.
At least I wouldn’t have any money, spending it like that. But clearly there are folks milling operating at a considerably higher income level than me, willing to shell out thousands of dollars for purses and other accessories. I wandered through Nordstrom’s in search of the restroom — my Beautiful Mystery Companion tipped me off the facilities are first class — and stopped to check out the men’s shoes on sale. I do have a weakness for nice shoes.
Sheesh. Shoes on sale at Nordstrom’s were still about 50 percent higher than what I was willing to pay, and as I said shoes are a weak spot. I have been known to spend $100 for a nice pair of Merrell’s. Of course, I will wear them for 10 years, but I still draw the line at a C-note for a pair of shoes. I didn’t even slow down at the rack of slacks on sale on the way to the restroom. No reason to.
Even if I were wealthy — and wealth is relative, so compared to most of the world our family indeed is rich — but if I were rich like the folks buying those $5,000 purses for their wives, I still couldn’t spend money in that fashion. I couldn’t drive a $100,000 car or wear $200 designer jeans. I would feel foolish and guilty, convinced that my French-Canadian departed kin were about to come back from heaven and chide me for being a spendthrift.
Besides, spending all that effort shopping is exhausting. I watched those wealthy folks walking by. They did not seem to be having that much fun. They walked too fast, laden down with large bags, headed to the next sale. The teenagers were having a blast, but the adults… not so much. Keeping up with the spendthrift neighbors appears to be a lot of work.
We leave the mall and enjoy a great Mexican food meal in Highland Park Village — another high-dollar shopping enclave. We work up an appetite walking around, admiring the array of Maseratis, Mercedes and Porches parked in front of yet another spread of high-end stores. Our Highlander looks a bit out of place, but no matter. It’s easy to spot among the luxury vehicles.
The next morning, my BMC and I walk down to Dealey Plaza. I have never been here before, this solemn place where a president was assassinated. Two “X’s” that mark where Kennedy was shot have been repainted on the asphalt. They were removed just before the 50th anniversary commemoration. A couple of vendors try to sell us garish tabloids about the assassination. Another offers a personal tour. They are quite aggressive in their approach, to the point I have to be nearly rude to get them to go away.
Even here, somebody is always selling something.
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