Thoughts on Sam's Club, and a Look at My Stack-of-Legos Disguise--Days 96-104

Have you ever been in a Sam's Club? If there's anyplace that exemplifies America's appetite for consumer goods and lots of them, it's a warehouse store like Sam's or Costco.

The first time I went into a Sam's Club, I was overwhelmed with all the STUFF. And it wasn't just that the warehouse was vast and packed to the gills with everything a convenience store owner or Kate Gosselein could want (okay, she's probably more of a Dean & DeLuca person now), it was that plastic-wrapped pallets towered above me, offering the promise of an endless supply of everything--and possibly eternal life--should the zombie invasion occur at just that moment. Birds make their homes in warehouse stores. You can find giant boxes of Mozzarella sticks or assorted Cheesecake Factory cheesecake slices. Or 500 tiny containers of coffee creamer in one box. Or a mattress. Or a ginormous bag of broccoli. Or a sixty pound bag of sugar and enough Crisco to power a space shuttle. Or extra-large boxes of adult or baby diapers. Or faux Uggs. Or one of those big, ugly janitorial brooms for your garage with a ginormous box of tee-shirt rags to go with it. Or a diamond necklace. Or Lipitor. Or Chateau Neuf du Pape. Or a container of melt-in-your-mouth hot ribs that you can take right out to your car and eat with  a Cherry Icee. Oh, and you can have spankin' new tires put on your car while you're sampling shrimp, stir-fry, popcorn, yumberry juice or ham biscuits served to you by (mostly) friendly ladies in hairnets. Phew!

If the word bourgeois leaves your lips with a note of utter scorn, Sam's Club is not for you. That's why I think so many people don't ever want to go into one and tend to bemoan the stores' existence. As an unapologetic capitalist and a birth-certificate-certified member of the bourgeoisie, I totally get the place.

Reading up on Sam's and Costco on Wikipedia, I learned that Costco is only just now beginning to accept food stamp benefits. It think it's a good thing, but if I were in the unfortunate position of having to rely on government food benefits, a warehouse store would be the last place I would go. It would be too depressing to have to walk by the pricey patio furniture and rows and rows of bestselling books and $2000 Go Karts to get to the meat and produce department.

No, Sam's Club--which originally opened to serve small businesses--is targeted happily to institutions and prosperous folks who can afford to buy in bulk and have the cash or credit to pay for it. I see a lot of married couples in Sam's buying that patio furniture or train sets for their grandchildren or a cart full of wine and cheese.  When they're done shopping, the get into their Avalons or Dodge Rams or Cadillacs (not usually Escalades) or tasteful Mercedes.

It's the bourgeois in me that gets a little thrill every time I go into a Sam's Club. There's always something there that I want, or can use. My Christmas list was pretty much all Sam's Club this year: the 50 piece Rubbermaid Locking Lids storage set; a lidded set of Pyrex bowls and pans; an Oster blender; wool socks; chocolate (if you haven't eaten an entire 2 pound bag of Ghirardelli dark chocolate chips, you haven't lived--I have, and now the entire 2 pound bag surrounds my hips). I already own every cotton sweater they're selling this year in every color.

I confess that I probably wouldn't have done the WM project if I hadn't decided to include Sam's Club. The clothing there isn't exactly designer--Sure, a few of the pieces have  CK or RL labels on them, but they're few and far between and less expensive versions of items that might be sold at Macy's. But it was that middle-class comfort I wanted to hold onto--just a little. Before September, I bought very few clothes there. Maybe a top I thought was fairly fashionable, or a turtleneck or two. Basics. All I can say is thank goodness for Sam's when it comes to this project. Without it, my entire winter would be spent in acrylic and cotton/poly blouses layered upon one another for warmth. (Let's save that for another post. But I just don't understand why WM doesn't bother to make comfortable natural fibers like cotton--substantial knit, please--or wool accessible to the masses.)

Do you shop warehouse stores? Opposed on principle?

And so to catch up a little....

Day 96.

Ugh. Total flu day. I think I'm wearing my "I Love My Dog" shirt because I felt like a sick dog.

Norma Kamali Tee: $8; Sweater (Sam's): $13 (?); Jones NY Brown velour sweats (no I wasn't going out!): $15; F'Uggs (Sam's) $30  Total: $66

No pic for Day 97. Just picture me in a bathrobe and sweats. Or not.

Day 98. This may be one of those pictures that will illustrate what a bad idea this whole project was. I call it my OMG-I'm-A-Huge-Block-of-Stacked-Legos Look. Would be darling minus ten pounds.

Norma Kamali shirt: $10; Nine West Jeans (Sam's): $17; That Damn Necklace: $7: Earrings: $12

Day 99. More flu, but I had to go out. No comment from Vinny Barbarino. (Go look him up.)

Jacket (Sam's): $79; Faded Glory jeans: $15; RL cotton sweater: $21 (?--need to go back and look up prices); Faded Glory boots: $23    Total: $138

Day 100. More jammies.

Day 101. Christmas Eve! Had to get my act together for parental visit and church. Unfortunately, it was an acrylic act. Bleh.

White Stag sweater: $10; To the Max jeans: $17; To the Max blouse: $3 (clearance); scarf: $5; Earrings: $7; Earth Spirit shoes: $30   $72

Oh, and the crystal bowl vase my mom gave me for Christmas. I used it just a few days later when my sweetie brought me feel-better flowers.

Days 102 (Christmas--sweats, meatball subs, much hilarity, chocolate and Wii.) -- 104. Absolutely not camera-appropriate in any way.

Exhausted? That's enough for today, I think.

Congrats to Margy on snagging the fab purple Joan and David flats!

More soon. So glad you're here!

Day 95 +++ A New Year Begins!

Don't you just love all the possibilities that a single change in the calendar brings? Seasonal changes--of weather, of emotions, of relationships, of wardrobes--enchant me. They always bring renewal of some kind. Change. I think I'm addicted to change. Maybe because of the whole ADHD thing, or maybe because I just like it.

I woke up sick with the flu exactly two weeks ago--the day after I got my H1N1 shot. I know that everyone says you can't get sick from a dead virus, but it feels awfully coincidental to me. I only started feeling better two days ago, when I announced that I was finally ready for Christmas to start. *sigh* I feel like the holidays passed in a kind of goomy fog. But we did manage to get up a lovely, once-alive Christmas tree that filled our house with real pine scent, and got to spend Christmas day in our sweats and/or jammies while we played with our new toys. I call that a success.

I have so many projects in the works....Later this week, I will finish the draft of my third novel. I'm working on a story for a fun Wal-Mart-themed anthology, looking forward to the UK release of the paperback edition of Calling Mr. Lonely Hearts and also the July publication of 100 Must-Read Thrillers--a book of essays in which I have some work. Add to that, my continuing WM adventure and a major decluttering of Camp Benedict. To mention one, I'm delving into my closet, reorganizing. I've come to the stunning realization that my WM wardrobe is nearly as large as my regular wardrobe--minus the evening clothes, of course. Shocking. I also took 27 pounds of shoes to the Goodwill. That's kind of shocking, too.

Here's the pile:

And that doesn't even include boots--fashion, snow, or rain. Or the 14 pairs of WM/Sam's shoes and boots I've bought. Or the thirteen pairs I found in my office closet where I kept the ones I only wear once every couple of years. But my shoe burden is now 27 pounds lighter. I probably should've tossed another 5-10 pounds. Baby steps....

Do you have long, slim elegant feet like me? I wear a 9 M. I have this darling pair of textured grape Joan & David flat loafers that I bought for $30 at TJ Maxx last spring and have never worn. Want them? Be the first to comment that you do--but you have to promise that they suit your style and you will wear them. And I want a picture of you in them!

Here they are:

So many photo days to catch up on...Though I will confess to many gaps. No one wants to see pics of me having the flu. I promise. And I lost a day somewhere. But one of my new goals is not to get uptight about the rules I make for myself. I'll stick to them, but I'm not going to drive any of us crazy any more doing it. (Okay. I'm the crazy one, but I appreciate anyone's willingness to share...)

In that vein, I must confess that I wore my pearls in the two hours before I went to bed last night. (I was wearing jammies and did not leave the house.)Not my $18 WM pearls, but the gorgeous string my DH bought me years ago when we were young and in love and not very wise with our money.  I posted earlier about pearl health. There's no way I'm going to let my babies die. And having someone else wear them so they'll stay healthy--well, that just doesn't feel right. Like sending one's only child to be nursed by a wet nurse!

Quick ensemble (also purple--must be in the zeitgeist):

Day 95 (I think). This is me looking relatively sane--In a woke-up-with-the-flu-feel-like-crap way.

Here I am a few minutes later looking slightly insane. I'd forgotten I had a purple beret. And I really was wearing two earrings. I swear:

Beret: $5; Scarf: $5; Jewelry: $7 and $7; White Stag sweater: $10; Chaus turtleneck: $8 (Sam's); Faded Glory boots: $23; Norma Kamali jeans: $15  Total: $80

I promise never to wear a matching beret and sweater again. They were just there. Really.

Have a brilliant week!

Merry Christmas!

These days have slipped away from me. Still sick, but Christmas happens anyway--and I wouldn't have it any other way. But I've been faithful about taking photos, and so will have lots to catch you up on in a couple days.

Sending you a thousand blessings--Laura

P.S.  Here's our Nina Garcia to wish you a Merry Christmas!

Days 92-94: In Which I Get a Smidge Sentimental and Wear Red (Again)

Day 92 was one of those lost days. Lost, as in never really got myself together, though I got a lot of things done. I started out by throwing on sweats and a hoodie and taking the boy to school, then wandering into Panera to work for a few hours.

Early on I thought I needed absolute aloneness to write. I lived on the farm in WV, with just a baby and a husband to demand my attention. We weren't geographically remote from town, but it was a psychic universe away from St Louis, the daily hustle of the Mega Beer Company and designer heels.

My office was the front upstairs bedroom that ran the width of our 1904 farmhouse. Every sound I made--scraping the chair across the wood floor, dropping a pencil, laughing aloud--echoed off of the bare, horsehair plaster walls and enormous windows. I had a comforting sense of all the people who had lived in that room before me. My daughter's room wasn't far away and I could hear her easily. A baby isn't really all that intrusive, unless she's crying or feeling particularly lonesome herself. I loved to write in that room, with its day bed and single rug from my mother-in-law's attic, the 1930s chiffarobe and lady's shallow dressing table/desk. I spent hours at a time in there, not even listening to music, but writing and writing.

One of the wonderful advantages/curses of being self-employed is the whole working-alone-in-jammies privilege. I wore a lot of sweatpants back then. I thought they were an expected part of the new baby package, plus it was just darned nice not to have to get terribly dressed every day. No one who ever came by actually cared about what I was wearing. They just wanted to hang out with the princess. Kind of a three strikes in the fashion department situation. I look back on it and think I just kind of gave up. Or  maybe I was simply too overwhelmed with the newness of it all--a new baby and a new life-- to worry about clothes. Funny how one's dignity (and modesty) can take a long term hiatus once one has lain split open and for all purposes naked on a gurney in a room filled with strangers.

Do I sound sentimental? It's probably the Christmas season, or the fact that I have some fairly intense flu symptoms after getting my H1N1 shot on Friday. Bleh.

But I think it was the chaos at Panera that made me reflective about writing in a quiet space. There I was in my mismatched hoodie and sweatpants, my hair thoroughly unpresentable, ready to get to work. And I did work for several hours, despite the fact that everyone in town was there buying coffee and muffins at once. God bless my iPod. I almost feel alone when I have those earbuds in--it's my own private space. As for the clothes--It's not like I didn't occasionally get all schlubby in my pre-Walmart days. The sweats were just more expensive. It seemed everyone in town was buying coffee and muffins at once. The writing went very well until I got distracted by the lunch crowd. I fret if I'm taking up too much space, if some trio can't get a table because I couldn't find a two-top near a plug, if someone even glances at my open computer. (Oops, is my anxiety disorder showing?!) Finally, after I'd moved once so another person could have a plug, I gave up. It was just too much. The muse had fled about twenty minutes before I did.

I still like writing in the quiet. The house is almost always quiet when the boy is at school and the animals are lying about the floor. But when I'm home, I get distracted by the laundry/phone/blog/twitter/UPS/popcorn. It's a wonder I get any writing done at all!

So, no picture for Day 92. I never really did get photo-ready dressed, and was appalled to realize around 9 p.m. that I hadn't even washed my face. (Teeth, yes. Face, no.) Thank goodness my honey loves me even if I'm not photo-ready.

Day 93 Ensemble:

Ta-da! It was another red day. Now, I saw this sweater in gray on a woman on one of my airplanes last weekend and she was wearing it up around her neck with a white collar just peeking out (and askew, I might add). Don't know what was up with that. I definitely don't like how thin the sweater is and the way my, uh, breasts, are highlighted. Maybe it's not so evident in real life, but it's pretty darn obvious here. (Remember to NEVER wear a white bra beneath a black knit. If you have your picture taken, you'll see why. Nude doesn't really work either. Stick with a black bra.)

Nine West jeans (Sam's): $15.55 (I just re-checked the receipt); Faded Glory sweater: $10; To the Max blouse: $3 (clearance); earrings: $7; necklace $8; F'Uggs: $30

Total: about $74

Day 94:

Many thanks to my friend and fellow room mother, Eleanor Gillespie for taking this pic at the kids' Christmas party.

I was looking a little pale. Had to stint on the makeup so I would be there to have hot chocolate ready for the little darlings when they got back from caroling.

George sweater: $10; Calvin Klein cords: $17 (Sam's); Earth Spirit shoes: $30: Norma Kamali jacket: $20 (love this jacket--so glad it was 50 degrees outside); necklace: $8; earrings: $7; No Boundaries belt: $7; scarf: $5 (I would die without these scarves!)

Total: $104

Thanks for all the feedback on the plans for the blog--It helped a lot. Please do always let me know your thoughts about what you'd like to see/hear about.

Hope your day is full of blessings. Off to the Sam's satellite in mere minutes...

Day 91: Can A Girl Wear Red and Be Bored at the Same Time?

[[[[yawn]]]]

I think I'm bored. Are you bored?

While I've told my share of fibs over the years, I am, generally speaking, appallingly honest. It's cost me friendships, messed with past jobs, and probably not been so helpful for my writing career. I tend to act impulsively and share too much--something I get from my mom (the sharing part). (See--even this is going to get me into trouble. It's okay, though. We always tease her about it. She loves personal stories--ours and others. Hm. Wonder how that affected me?) But it's not a particularly professional way for a fiction writer to behave.

Careers, images. They're careful constructs. (Let's all say "Tiger Woods" together, shall we?) Most artists (I use the term very loosely) keep their innermost selves intensely guarded--and for good reason. We're quivering mollusks inside our shells and so the peeks at our innards need to be brief and structured. Emotional overexposure--and this counts for all people, not just artists--can be a dangerous, costly thing. I don't think this will surprise anyone. The difference between artists is the degree to which they protect themselves. Tiger Woods = Astronomical Self-Protection (okay, cut the snickering!),  Me = Not So Much.

So it's with some trepidation that I tell you how I'm feeling about my Walmart adventure. Feeling is a good thing, I think. Feeling is critical, I hear, to being an actual human.

I'm feeling conflicted and weary at the same time. I wonder if it's not that I'm bored, but that I've adapted. The human capacity for adaptability is stunning, and is one of our greatest gifts.

I didn't really expect this project to be about personal transformation. Seriously--who would ever start such an apparently ridiculous project in order to experience transformation. As I've mentioned before, I'm coming to see that clothes do not "make the man," so to speak. They might make the far-off view of the man a little more pleasant or interesting or off-putting or whatever. But there's a heck of a lot more at play when it comes to how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us.

Just a few characteristics to consider: gender, body image, physiology, attitude, race, social status, intelligence, faith (or lack thereof), childhood, education, attitudes....So many variables knit together to make up the various view of who we are.
 
Forgive the abrupt tone change, but if I start exploring all these now, I'll be here for months. So. Many things to think about. I'm not bored anymore.

Are there things you'd like me to address here? Questions you want to ask? Sharing is one of my specialties, you know!

Tuesday's ensemble:

Ah, yes. One of my four RL cotton sweaters. They're so handy, so comfy. Inevitably, when I where one, someone says, "Ralph Lauren at Walmart? I don't think so." And then I have to explain the whole Sam's connection. Frankly, I don't know that I could have done this project for three months trying to get by on Walmart purchases exclusively. I would have had to resort to costuming. No, really. There's too much cognitive dissonance between the person I am inside and what I wear on the outside if I have to wear clothes that 1) I dislike instensely and 2) Violate every style rule I've learned in forty-something years. The whole style-rule thing is critical here. I suppose I could have limited myself to the mothership from the beginning--but I would have known the answer to my primary question (see blog title above) before I even started.

Sam's Club is....Um, I'm not going to write about Sam's today. I have much to say and am even going there this afternoon for some non-clothing supplies. Soon. Maybe tomorrow.

Ralph Lauren sweater: $21; Nine West jeans: $18; Earrings: $7; Earth Spirit shoes: $30

Total: $76

Have a blessed rest of the day. And if you're not Google-following me, I hope you will. I love to know who's along for the ride!