Nordstrom's anchors this mall, and I always like to visit it for a good laugh. Everyone is so damn eager to make you part with your money. There was an exquisitely elegant saleswoman in the fragrance department (yes, I can't stay away from this stuff) and she must have been Iberian. Her hair was jet black and pulled back into a chignon; high cheek bones that rival those of Faye Dunaway and scarlet lipstick. She approached me and said to me in a heavily accented English: what can I do for you my lady? She was so unobtrusive and low pressure that I actually took the time to answer her. We talked about the cost of perfume oils and scented waters. She was still very gracious as I left empty handed.
After lunch, I walked to Powell, and I must have hit the bottom of the street, as there was a huge circle of people waiting for the trolley! I continued onto Powell and started recognizing the shops and up the street, I could see some of the hotels we had looked at the last time we were here. I went into a fragrance/souvenir shop and picked up a bottle of cologne for Chuck.
After which I was drawn to the DSW Shoe Warehouse . This place is also in New York, but it is pure whisky for an alcoholic. I spent at least 1-1/2 hours there looking at 700 pairs of shoes and sandals for women. Naturally, the greater the choice, the more indecisive I am. But I love looking and touching and examining the heel which on some is a disaster waiting to happen.
Then I see Walgreens,- did I mention that the water in San Francisco is absolutely vile? I linger there at the cosmetics, the colognes, the sale racks and I spot the water. Hurray...it's almost 4 pm, and my feet are in heavy protest. And is that Marshall's across the street from the Renaissance? In I go and browse at leisure; my daughter Michele is now 2 bras richer.
Bayside, New York
August 13, 2001
From journal Slumming in San Francisco