I used to have a thing for revolving doors, when I was three. I remember having to walk through one to get to my swimming lessons. I would walk through a revolving door, swim in the deep end, and then eat a de-licious grilled cheese sandwich in my terry cloth robe before getting to walk back out through a revolving door again. And it was cold outside. It was always cold outside, but I don’t remember getting dressed to go back out. Mittens were so stressful.
Today, I had an experience with a revolving door. It happened on my way into a J.Crew. I was thinking about how I really shouldn’t be going in, but I knew I was getting my eyebrows waxed and hair cut in seven minutes, so I really didn’t have time to buy anything. And then I had to go walk a dog, so I didn’t have time to come back. I didn’t know if I should go in, but I really need some new white t-shirts. Those are a necessity of life. Was I going to lose track of time? I was in a rush.
I tried to enter the store too quickly. I ran into the glass. I may or may not have made a noise. I really don’t know. I tried to play it cool and act like I wasn’t trying my hardest not to make eye contact with anyone. I concentrated really hard on those brown suede ankle boots on the left-hand side of the store. I walked around in a circle and wondered where I could find that sweater I really want. I know I said I went in for t-shirts, but really I wanted to find that sweater. I forgot about my entrance. I couldn’t find the sweater anywhere. I couldn’t even find the t-shirts anywhere. My eyebrow wax was in three minutes; I had to leave.
I touched a skirt, and an employee asked me if I needed help. I said I was just looking. She said that there was a women’s sale upstairs. I asked her how long it would be there. She looked at me and said, “It’s always there. But we just marked the items down last night, so they’re fresh.” What was that tone I heard? I looked at the stairs, I looked at the door, and I felt my cheeks burning. I said I’d be back tomorrow.
I walked out of the store, thinking only about how it embarrassed me that I didn’t know about the permanent sale rack upstairs. Thinking about how that woman probably thought I was a tourist, I caught my reflection in the window and hoped that whoever was going to wash my hair wouldn’t be able to tell that I didn’t shampoo after yoga this morning. I didn’t even get my hair wet. I could have, but I just used a blow dryer to de-sweat instead. My hair can’t handle it when it gets washed too many times a day. Would she be able to tell? There’s no way she would be able to tell.
Sometimes I think people can read my mind.