…Where Fashion Has the Right-of-Way…

Remember where I work? I’d almost forgotten–it’s the Fashion Mall. For Fashion People. I pulled into the Brown Parking Garage at work today, (the fact that it’s called the Brown Garage means nothing. There’s also a Green Garage that is actually painted tan. One of the many things that makes no sense about Scottsdale…) and had to slam on Tamra Camry’s poor little anti-lock brakes in an attempt to save both her life and my own. Had I not, we would have surely perished at the hands of a harried Porsche driver. (Why, I ask, would anyone be harried if they were driving a Porsche? If I could afford to drive a Porsche, it would only be after I could afford to pay the maid, butler, gardener, and daily hairstylist. I would not have a care in the world. I would pay someone to be harried for me. But that’s just me…) Do keep in mind that it was clearly my turn to go–or at least it would have been, in a sane city like Mesa. Evidently I’d forgotten that traffic laws change once a person crosses over the border between Scottsdale and The-Rest-of-the-World.

In Scottsdale, fashion has the right-of-way.

Later in the food court, as I stood in the chaotic line to order a Diet Pepsi at Paradise Bakery, I was rudely cut off by a lady toting a chihuahua in a Louis Vuitton puppy-dog carrier. (I am not telling a joke. I thought people like that only existed on Entertainment Hollywood, but I was quite wrong.) I was cut off at the hands of Fashion. This time, though, I shouldered my way before her in all my frump-girl glory. A shocked expression washed over her liposuctioned 22 year-old face (oh, hadn’t you heard? Aging happens sooner in Scottsdale, too!) and she was utterly speechless. I walked away carrying my medium Diet Pepsi triumphantly, like a trophy for all the name-brands to see. I wanted to shout, “And I even got the 10% mall employee discount! It’s not much, but it covers the tax!”

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
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10 Responses to …Where Fashion Has the Right-of-Way…

  1. Anonymous says:

    You get what you pay for—even in Scottsdale. As for me and my house, we will serve the thrift stores. Te amo. MAS

  2. Anonymous says:

    Love it, Mill! Love it! I’m glad you stood up for yourself in front of that Louis Voutton toting animal freak. That’s probably never happened to her before today…

    After reading this, I am reminded, yet again, why I love to live where I live. The west valley is where it’s at! (Yes, I realize I ended a sentence with a preposition, but I don’t care.) I can’t imagine living anywhere like that. Life would seem so shallow and unbased. Thank heavens for good old 85201. There really is no better place to live.

  3. Anonymous says:

    OH the joys of working at Scottsdale Fashion Square. I may not have been as nice as you. ~Vitamin Juice Rules!

  4. Camille says:

    I love it, Mom! “As for me and my house, we will serve the thrift stores.” That is going to be the title of my next post!

  5. Raygon says:

    do i have to tell you a million times how much i love your writing! you have got talent! i love that your mom comments on your blog too, how sweet. love the story

  6. Kristi K. says:

    So cute!! And yay that I am not the only one to have my mom comment on my blog!! Gotta love the family!

  7. LetterToKayleen says:

    so funny.

  8. Melenie says:

    You have summarized the horror of working at Fashion Square Mall very well here. Every expreience is like this for we peasants who are here only to serve the filthy rich and plastic people of Scottsdale…. I’m glad to hear you prevailed over Ms. Louis Voutton!

  9. lindser-lou says:

    your stories make me happy camille!

    Yay for the tales of frump-girl and her diet pepsi triumph!!!!

  10. Pingback: Archives of Our Lives » In Which Everything I Thought I Knew About Fashion Comes Into Question.

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