The Devil wears Prada
I had a Vivian Ward moment at Prada on Saturday. No, there wasn’t a millionaire boyfriend stuffing wads of cash into my pockets and insisting that I go shopping. Wish I did though. I was looking for a wallet, but leather goods are always kept in glass drawers. So I beckoned the nearest sales person for help. She raised her palm at me, body language screaming “HALT”. Then, after giving some instructions to her colleague, she took wide, purposeful strides towards me and raised her voice, “Yes?!!” It wasn’t the response I was expecting. There wasn’t even a fake smile. I felt that I had inconvenienced her and was rather slighted by her behaviour. She went on to grudgingly show me the 2 pieces I requested, without any interest in getting me interested in them. Needless to say, the entire shopping experience was marred.
It’s beyond me why staff at high end boutiques behaves so snootily. I’d bet if it was Kenneth who walked in, she’d greet him by his name and even offer tea. I had a much better time at Dunhill and Zegna. On hindsight, I'm glad I was alone and Rage wasn't with me. She'd tell her off and demand for the manager.
Good that I didn’t get anything in the end. I just realize my income tax is going to be at least 4 wallets’ worth. Sigh, where do I find the Edward Lewis of this world?