Today I went to the mall to amuse myself. First I went to the Pinnacle strip mall on the west of the highway to try out the fancy stores I heard were there. Unfortunately, the owners of said stores are apparently devout Christians and will not even employ other people to work their shops on Sundays. They (both of them) did look like they would be good places to shop in, though, on an unholy day.
So I went to the other side of the highway where the Promenade mall is. I was complaining (to myself of course, since I am always alone) about how terrible the choices were - Dillard's, Forever 21, Banana Republic, that's it - and yet somehow managed to do over $300 worth of damage.
The reason I woke up desperately needing to shop is because last night I started a new book from the library: The House of the Spirits by Isabelle Allende. This is what it says about Esteban Trueba, when he moves to the country:
"The first months, he kept his promise to himself of always bathing and changing his clothes for dinner, as he had heard the British colonizers did in the most distant hamlets of Africa and Asia, so as not to lose their dignity and authority. He would put on his best clothes, shave, and play his favorite opera arias on the gramophone. But little by little he let himself be conquered by rusticity, and came to accept the fact that he had no calling as a dandy, especially since there was no one to appreciate his efforts... He was slowly becoming a barbarian."
I was gripped with fear by this passage and probably had nightmares and definitely woke up desperately needing to buy new clothes. So I went to the gym (clothes need to fit, after all), spent an hour by the pool reading fashion magazines (no better accessory than a tan), and proceeded to buy all sorts of flowy and flowery things I don't need but that Vogue and Bazaar assure me are timeless. Except that it's Sunday so for the next 5 days all I can wear are black pencil skirts and pressed button-downs.
It was a fun day, though, because in honor of the book passage I dolled myself up entirely inappropriately for this town (probably appropriately for anywhere in AR). I wore a VERY small white linen Alberta Ferretti dress that I bought at a consignment store in Paris (not sure whether it's supposed to only remain under things), a beige striped summer cardigan to hide the see-through-ness of the dress/slip, multiple gold necklaces to aid in the hiding, fabulous sunglasses, brown 40s-inspired heels, and my newly-bronzed legs. It was great, even though I've had to sit with my feet propped up for the last 2 hours at home to soothe the pain of those heels. Things are SO FAR from the parking lot here. Which is why the natives wear sneakers and athletic shorts.