Les Soldes Américaines

Today, the big "sales" start in Paris. I say big with my tongue firmly in cheek--French sales are rien compared to the clearance racks at Target and Kohl's, as Chloé quickly found out. Despite her foot issues (one example of French Health Care that does NOT come close to American!), this girl can shop. Even jet lagged, she could go, but now that the jet lag is gone--the girl's got stamina.

Every day, after the kid I'm babysitting goes home, she smiles and says, "Ronica, can we go shopping?" Even me, who loves shopping (though the hunt is even more fun than the kill for me), is getting a bit worn out. But it's her only chance, so I've said "yes", every time.

Today, she finally got her trophy. After finding small gifts for her best girl friend and her sister, and part of her gift for her boyfriend, she had a few more things on her list. A bracelet for him (he requested--and finding man jewelry in the US is not an easy task), and jeans and a black hobo bag for her. She'd already found a cute black top at Target, as well as some strappy black sandals, but the jeans and bag eluded her.

Mais bien sûr, she is Parisian, she is rather particular. The jeans had to be dark, no little white lines, and skinny. They couldn't gap at the waist, and must not be too wide at the ankle. Oh, and cheap. The bag? Black, hobo style, not too square, with straps not attached by rings, and inexpensive. And the bracelet--steel or silver, adjustable (he's skinny), and masculine. And, of course, pas trop cher.

So today after Rowan finally woke up from her nap, we headed out to TJ Maxx. She hit. Jeans for $20, and a bracelet for him, with gift box. But the only bag she liked was again $100.

"We are going to Walmart?" she asked. "I could look for a bag there..."

"Uh, no. No, honey. Walmart is fine for grapes and pork ribs, but you won't find what you want there."

So we drove. All the way across town, to Ross. It happens to be next to the other Walmart, so it worked out fine.

And she hit again. The coup de coeur, the bag. "I am in love with it!" she cried.

"My porte-feuille is ..." she held it aloft, shaking it up and down, and gave me a quizzical look.

"Your wallet is light," I said.

"Yes!" she grinned back. "But I am so happy! I love American shopping. I will take a plane to America when I need to go shopping!!!" she laughed. "I now have a whole American..." she looked to me. "Outfit," I answered. "Ensemble."

"Yes! An American outfit. Shirt, jeans, shoes, bag. Everything from America!"

We arrived home, and she checked her email.

"Mom wants rassure-moi that I haven't spent all my money!" She grinned at the screen. "I have ten dollars left..."

A girl after my own heart.