Everything I Hate About Shopping In One Place

I went out looking for a fleece jacket in Paris today.
Sophie and I first went to this store called Au Vieux Campeur this afternoon, which is actually two dozen small boutiques all situated on two city blocks.  I guess they didn't want to buy up the whole block and make one big store, which has saved the neighborhood, I'm sure, but it made it awfully inconvenient for me to find what I was looking for.  Slash, I didn't.  Find what I was looking for, I mean.  Fleeces are hugely expensive, turns out, and adding pockets adds 20 Euro to the price!  I should have known.
I decided to check out normal stores, to see if something without the NorthFace label wouldn't be a bit cheaper.  I went to the big mall Lafayette, just down the hill from me.

It was a horrible experience.

First of all, it was chock full of tourists.  People seem to save up all their money for years, just to come and blow it all in Paris.  That is a silly idea, if you ask me.  The same high-end labels are available all around the world.  Why crowd this place and then spend a billion more dollars shipping it all home?

Secondly, there was no variety.  All of the stores were set up in the open, bazaar-style, and I couldn't tell where one brand ended and another began.  I was assuming a shopping center might have one section for the classy adults, another place for those crazy kids, maybe something else for the relaxed human.  Nope, everything was equally snazzy, of the snazz type that you can smell from a mile away.

That's the third thing:  I could tell without even looking at tags that the simplest, cheapest item was going to be way above my price range, and even way above what I would consider spending on any one thing, period.  There's an aura around such products that rebuffs me and gives me a headache.  Most clothing items I've seen in Paris are prohibitively expensive, though.  Even second-hand stores (here they call them "vintage", but don't take that word too seriously) sell dresses from the eighties (read: seriously ugly dresses) for stupid prices, like 80 Euro.  Cross my heart, I saw that once.  I almost laughed out loud in the store.

Fourth, everyone was swooshing around in a rush to GET MORE STUFF.  Greed was a palpable presence, pressing every heart in a macabre mimicry of happiness.  The lowest floor selling perfumes, watches, and handbags was ridiculous.  I can't even convey the jostling, the urgency...  And the curious thing was that every person there looked middle-class.  No one looked rich or important.  What were they all doing there?  What were they going to buy?  One thousand-dollar handbag?  One fur coat?  One swishy skirt that cost 188 Euro (the only thing I looked at closely)?  What consumption.  These high-end lines have it made.  They have us eating out of the palms of their hands.

Fifth, shopping in Paris made me realize that Parisians really are prissy compared to Americans.  That sentence can be turned around to read: "Americans are sloppy compared to Parisians", but I'm biased.  Utility, Practicality?  Couldn't find it.  I just want a simple jacket, people!  I have no idea where to find that here.  I will probably end up going back to Au Vieux Campeur and spending an arm and a leg for this fleece.  Serves me right for not finding one at home in the first place.


In the end, I dragged my depressed self up the hill and back home without having looked closely at a single thing, much less bought anything.  I weep for the human race.