Nashville's high-end mall just racheted up the chi-chi. There's a new kid in town. And, in a scenario akin to the Beverly Hillbillies seeing a cement pond for the first time ever, I'd forgotten until I went seeking a cure for out-of-control curls at the mall that a new gal named Nordstrom had opened her doors there only four days before. The moment we stepped from the jammed parking lot onto the sidewalk filled with Starbucks patrons, I noticed the mood had shifted. And then as we entered the mall's glass bank of doors, I saw more evidence. More…high end customers. Extra bronzed. Exuberantly whitened. Perfectly plumped, plucked and sucked in all the right places, uber blonde and donning ultra fashioned clothing. I saw a woman I speculated to be about my age. Wow, she looked good but it made me tired to think of all the work it took to create that head to toe superbly and flawlessly coiffed look. The energy of the entire mall was jazzed. The gay cameraderie was out and all about, proud and strong. Other merchants were buzzing…:"Have you been yet?" More than one questioned. Everyone seemed excited about their new neighbor.
While we were there on earnest business–Grace and I decided to check out the new kid on the block….Nordstrom classed out her competition by departing from racks and racks of retail overkill. The cosmetic counters and seductive jewelry displays sparkled, gleamed and lured beneath the brightest lights I'd ever seen in a department store. Gorgeous. Twinkling like Christmas, sans the saccharin happy carols, that I'm sure will start piping through the muzak speakers by Halloween. The new gal's wares were arranged in casual, inviting chic boutique style. Just enough to tantalize and not overwhelm. I found a nook that perfectly suited my tastes. Three in fact. The shoes–which only on sale can I maybe afford. Everyone knows Nordstroms has fab shoe sales, right? The only pair I dared to pick up and peek at the price revealed a $500 tag. Prada. I put it down quickly. The lingerie was a cut above (no pun intended) I'd seen anywhere else in town. I thought maybe on sale I could own one of those hot pink silk spaghetti-strapped numbers. The sales girl's affected e-long-gated syl-lah-bles attested to the uniqueness of the department's goods. And then I found a style home in the Free People boutique. Only, I had to wonder, were the people who made the garments actually free or enslavened to our voracious Euro-American taste for style? The dress that wooed me, softly whispering my name, was $198. And so we sauntered out, having satiated our curious selves with a healthy dose of eye-candy. We'd met the new girl. She was right pretty.
Well done, Nordstrom. I heard that you aimed to bring in $1 million during your opening weekend and instead doubled that plus-some. Congratulations. Welcome to Nashville. I truly am glad you're here. I'll come back when I can think of something I need and you've fiercely slashed your tags. I'll leave the shelling out to the chi-chi set. May they shop happily ever after. Good for them. Truly.
