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This stirred up a lot of memories for me. Bloomingdales was always a favorite of mine as a teenager. When I was younger I loved the big clock in Macy's, the one in the floor, and how my mary janes would click on the surface, the sound echoing endlessly. I thought this spot magic but I guess I outgrew that somewhere along the way.

At Christmas I miss the windows so much it hurts. Two times of year I feel homesick most--Christmas and spring.

If anyone would ever accuse me of living in any store, it would probably have been The Strand. But it is easy to get lost in the shelves and unlikely that one squatter would stand out. At least not for a while.

wow, i used to play grownup too, cutting school and going to the west village.

you should make that movie, ya know.

Wow. I relate to this so much.

When things would get rough at home, my mom and I would escape to the shopping centers. Because we live in Ohio, they were never anything fancy. It was usually Kohl's or Target or Penney's. I remember feeling an intense relief when we walked into Target through the sliding doors. We'd pick up thing after lovely thing -- all on sale, of course. That was back when we had enough money to afford these little impromptu shopping sprees, so long as everything was priced reasonably.

I would marvel over the things we bought...even if they were just plastic plates or some ribbon from Target's $1 section. But these things would bring me comfort, even when we were home, as a reminder that we could always escape.

I still worry about becoming a shopaholic. At age 18, I'm at the brink between childhood and adulthood. I have expendable cash, and sometimes, in the interest of making myself happier I spend a $20 there...a $50 there. It's something that I think I will have to watch for the rest of my life...

The first time I went to Bloomingdales was in 1978 for my Bat Mitzvah trip to NYC. I tried on vinyl pants, I got a beige shimmery velour sweatsuit with brown piping. It was on the juniors floor which was styled a lot like a disco. I thought it was just like Studio 54, at that time I had no idea poppers existed.

There is some deep, melancholic reflection going on in Janiceworld. I can hear the wheels of creativity just whirring a-mile-a-minute. This makes me happy for me as one of you ardent readers, but sad for you and the pain I know is being conjured up as you produce these wonderful essays.

[I know you said the "big house" declared it too dark , but I really want to read it... really, really want to read it. These stories are making me salivate for it all the more.]

In case I don't make this clear on every post, I am always edified and delighted by your feedback, and feel terrifically supported and inspired by you, many of you in "real life," too. Thanks, Satia, Marie, Katy, Glickstien, and Kirsten.

I love this.
I always do.
Your posts make me alternately sad and happy--sad that you have painful memories but then I laughed out loud (at work no less, where I shouldn't be blog-reading but seeing patients instead) about *living* in the Barney's Co-op.

Self-publish the book. I will hawk it all around Austin... :)

PS I could be/am a shopaholic also. Target is my happy place. Sigh.

Nothing is impossible, only if we try our best to do.

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