Could I be a girl after all?
BLOOMINGDALE'S opened its flagship West Coast store in San Francisco yesterday. We went over today to look around. I don't like crowds or loud music, but I think I could make an exception if the Bloomingdale gods allowed me to live there.
I would sleep on a different gorgeously appointed bed every night, and have a limitless array of truly divine clothes to wear. I would never get them cleaned or laundered, just replaced, or look at price tags. There would be shoes. Tall ones, flat ones, happy shoes, cruel shoes.
I would play house with thousand-dollar pots, and try out every brand of skin care known to woman. I would ride the escalators up and down all night, after the intruders left. My nourishment would come from Godiva chocolate, my favorite food group. There would be whole days when I wore nothing but cashmere. I would be dripping in diamonds at all hours and use The Good Crystal every day. I would patrol the floors to make sure no one bought anything good in my size. I would be a force to be reckoned with. The Phantom of the Department Store.
And when I died, my ashes would be scattered over the perfume counter. And I would dwell in the House of Bloomingdale forever.
Amen.
