I’ve never been a competitive person. I’ve never even been on an athletic team, and was only a cheerleader in middle school (shocking, I know, right? Not really … I just wanted to be Britney Spears) simply because there were no cuts. I don’t even like watching competitive sports on TV or shows like Survivor. Competing brings out an uber ugly side of people that horrifies me. Having people screaming and being insanely mean for the sake of “winning” doesn’t sound delightful, am I right?
As an adult, competition shows its ugly face in weird ways, not just on sporting fields or whatever the hell you call it. In the office, over men, and what I’m really here to talk about, at sample sales. Oh yes, cue the lightning bolts and scary music, kids.
You would think getting the opportunity to go to a sample sale would be music to my ears, but wrong, sir! You’re wrong! I’ve only attended one, and one was enough for me. It isn’t all tea and crumpets as women in white gloves casually review the merchandise at hand with classical music playing in the background. Oh no. Ladies, or lack their of, are there to bring home the gold, the most spectacular merchandise for the most spectacular price, and they will do anything and everything to make that happen.
These broads bring their A-game and have no qualms with taking a bitch down for some marked down Fendi. They mine as well be wearing protective gear, mouth guards and all, as throwing ‘bows, and not giving a shit for the sake of human kind is all acceptable on this fashion field.
Nothing makes me cringe more than seeing two women fighting in public. Scratch that. Two women fighting in public over clothing and accessories. And at sample sales, especially the big boys like Barneys and Urban Outfitters, the gloves are off to get the goods. Shoving, not saying “excuse me,” hair pulling, cursing, grabbing merchandise out of bins like tomorrow an asteroid is about to strike and the only thing that will save their families is marked down hipster clothing, are all things you are more than likely to see.
Sure, the idea of getting couture for a quarter of the price makes my heart sing. It really does. But having to deal with women who throw their manners to the wind and will say anything and do anything for a good deal isn’t my bag. In fact, keep the bag. You win, crazy lady. No need to make me cry in order to rip the marked down Marc Jacobs out of my hand. Take it. Got enough problems, thanks.
I dare any of you sample sale jocks to take a look at yourself while you are preparing to give the girl eying up the same marked down Theory jacket as you a bloody nose and see how you look. I double dog dare ya.