Thursday, October 4, 2007

I am a designer dummy or why we had to move.

Growing up in a small Midwestern farming community does not offer many opportunities to become familiar with fashion designers other than Carhartt, Levi and Wrangler. It is also a well documented fact that I am not a shopper and much prefer a good movie or book to shopping. Apparently I was born without the shopping gene. When Polly was working at a major airport as a bomb and drug dog handler (her dream job = my nightmare) her unit was given the once in a lifetime chance of affordably owning practically every item made by Louis Vuitton. Polly called home all excited, even though she also had no idea who or exactly what is a "Lewis Vooten". Her more brand conscious co-workers were practically comatose with delirium at this opportunity and I guess the excitement was contagious. So, Polly asked me the question every non-fashion conscious mother dreads to hear, "Mom, who is "Lewis Vooten"?" I had to tell her I had no clue but I would make the ultimate sacrifice and stop by the mall on my way home from work. I sat in the parking lot and put on fresh lipstick and combed my hair in preparation to enter the DESIGNER KINGDOM of the local department store. The sales clerk took one look at me and knew I was rube. She was reed thin, dressed all in black, pointy nose, glasses on a chain and her bun was so tight she could hardly blink. After looking down her nose at me she very haughtily said, "May I help you?" Her tone made it very obvious that she KNEW I was beyond help. Sooo, I stammered and stumbled around and finally asked, "Do you carry any "Lewis Vooten" items?" The sales clerks eyebrows shot up so high I was afraid they would sail right over her bun. She removed her glasses, put one hand on her hip and said, "My Lady, the proper pronouncation is LOUIE not LEWIS and the last name is pronounced VUTAWN not VOOTEN. He is is a VERY famous French designer... NOT a hillbilly craftsman." Said it kinda snotty too. I thanked her for the information and then gathered up what little dignity I had left and drove home to tell Dave we had to move because apparently he married an idiot and the word was out .


sammyosammy said...

I remember "OSH KOSH B'GOSH"

Rolled up jeans, saddle shoes,(or penny loafers) old tattered sweaters, but that was way before your "time"