My first experience at a designer consignment boutique in LA was awful. Now, as someone who gets most of their wardrobe from Target, I can tell you I didn’t really expect to ever find myself in a place that carries Dolce and Gabbana and Chanel. I ended up there as a favor…instead of getting respect though, I was ignored.
I felt like Julia Robert’s character in the movie “Pretty Woman.” She plays a hooker who takes some cash from her client-turned-prince-charming, Richard Gere, to go shopping for new clothes at a fancy boutique. In my case, I was trying NOT to buy, but sell fancy shoes at a LA-area boutique.
See, my dad’s girlfriend, Michelle, used to work for a fashion designer. After runway shows, the models would discard their shoes – after only wearing them maybe once or twice. A crime! Michelle’s designer boss gave her the leftover Manolo Blahniks (which I only know of from Carrie Bradshaw on episodes of Sex and the City) and Christian Louboutins (which I only knew about maybe two weeks ago, which I’ve been told are known for their signature clown-red bottoms). All these shoes retail at more than $500 a pair. And that’s being conservative. They are beautiful shoes, but they’re large. Michelle wears like a size ten or eleven…so I couldn’t keep any of the shoes for myself since I sport a 7 or 8 at best. Believe me, I considered it. I’ve settled for staring at them longingly and petting them. Don’t judge! These are satin shoes. They feel nice to the touch!
Anyways, I have about ten pairs of these beautiful, overpriced shoes that I need to find new homes for. I just want to haggle with a consignment boutique to sell them for me. I’ve tried selling them online and it’s been a major pain. But when I went to this LA-based boutique, I realized it could be even more of a pain.
I spoke with the owner of the store, we’ll call her Linda. Linda gave me the impression that she just needed to finish helping a customer and then she could speak with me about my shoes. There were three other women working that day. None of them talked to me or acknowledged my lurking. Linda kept speaking with her customer, but it wasn’t about fabric types or prices. They were talking about $30,000 cruises, obnoxious amounts of volunteer work (yes, it’s possible for volunteer work to be obnoxious) and how to arrange jewelry to make the most bang for your buck. I kept waiting and waiting..It was clear Linda was more concerned with this cooing senior than some cutesy 20-something. I was sick of hearing all of it. I didn’t like feeling ignored. I didn’t need a Richard Gere to save me, but it sure couldn’t have hurt.
The best part about LA? You don’t have to put up with feeling like a nobody. There’s millions of other people you can choose to interact with. You just lift your head up and move on. I still have to find a boutique to take these damn shoes to…but maybe next time I’ll “dress” the part – both inside and out. You gotta fight fire with fire.
As Eleanor Roosevelt said: “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
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