The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far…


I’m shopping in Loehmann’s with my friend, A, the other day and stumbled upon some Wacoal bras that were 1/2 off the original price. Tried one on, loved it, then went through a major internal debate about how many to buy. There were four in my size in the store. Buying four of the exact same bra seemed a little excessive though. A thought I should buy two. Sounded reasonable, but I still wasn’t sure exactly what to do. So obviously, I had to text The Mamma. (Yes, I am a grown up who text messages her mother when she doesn’t know what to do. She has way more shopping wisdom than I do. Where do you think most of my Shopping Commandments came from? Years and years worth of shopping trips with The Mamma.)

Here is how the conversation went:

Elle: What is a reasonable number of the same bra to buy? Wacoal half off. Keep in mind it is unlined.
Elle’s Mamma: If the fit and price is right I would say at least 4… If they are really cheap and fit well maybe 6. Nordstrom sells them for $80 to $100.
Elle: Alright, alright… I’ll go with three or four.

Several things happened during this interaction. I’ll tick them off for you, one by one.

First, “Hey Big Spender” started playing in my head while reading The Mamma’s response.

Then I got distracted by floor length formal gowns I have no use for.

Then I suddenly realized why I shop so much and have such an exact method for it. Not sure if this is a nature thing or a nurture thing, but it’s definitely something. The Mamma’s mamma was also a serious shopper in her day. Serious enough that she would cook dinner early in the morning then jet off to Herald Square to hit Macy’s, shop, and get back in enough time to heat up said dinner before my grandfather arrived home from work.

Was this behavior learned by The Mamma from her mother and in turn learned by me from both of them? Or is there some illicit recessive shopping gene that has been passed on through the maternal DNA in my family? If so, it must be female specific, because my brother is the world’s worst shopper (and illicits no pleasure from the act at all). I don’t have the answers here. If any major universities are reading this, maybe you should conduct a long term study to answer these burning questions I’ve presented. I’m sure you’ve got nothing better to do.

If you’re wondering how many of the bras I bought that day…. All four. Plus a floppy wool hat. And a bracelet. And a pair of black leather wedges. And the day before I may have gone to Macy’s myself and bought four pairs of jeans I didn’t need.

Ugh, I blame my mother.



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