Just my weekly stroll to Hermès

Yesterday, besides taking a computer test that lasted 3 hours and getting my hair cut, I decided to take my weekly stroll to Hermès where I often go to scout out 750 euro shawls. I bet you didn't know I had this special place in my heart for any boutique West of la Madeleine- Burberry, Prada, Gucci- you name it, I've been there. I do believe there was also a star spotting yesterday. If you see Tom and Kate sipping a frothy espresso in a Parisian sidewalk café in your next issue of People, I was there, I saw it.

Okay, in all reality, I hate, despise anything having to do with luxury shops. I'd rather spend money on a plane ticket back to the US to see family or friends than on a label, what's the point? But, all the MIL wanted for her 70th birthday was this butt-ugly Hermès shawl and since I happen to live in Paris, I was the designated person to brave the luxury jungle and go fetch said shawl. This was, of course, after the whole family desperately racked its brains and address books to find contributors for this gift and I am happy to say that we did indeed find 1000 people to donate to our cause (okay, this is the point where you don't have to believe me!).

Let me tell you a few things about Hermès. First, without giving my fellow Okies a bad name and just another reason to feed the stereotypical image of the Midwest, well, I am probably going to do just that: remember, I am from Oklahoma and for all I knew before coming to Paris, Hermès was another sexually transmitted disease. Then, we had a friend go to work in the marketing department and boy, did I feel like an idiot when I found out that she wasn't going to work in a medical lab to do research on this disease but for a huge, luxury label. And, second, when they do their hiring recruitment is "snob" a requirement? I mean, they didn't have to treat me like a measly teacher living in subsidized, rent-controlled housing. So, I braved the swarms of Japanese tourists to pick up this shawl that, I might add, looks no different to me than something I might get at Dillard's in good old Bartlesville, USA. The next time I go on my weekly stroll to spend half a month's salary, maybe I'll wear makeup and not wear the same shirt I slept in.