Clothing Sale

Yesterday afternoon Anne called to see if I wanted to go to a special clothing sale in the next town over.  Her daughters had been at the sale earlier in the day and were raving about the offerings.  Since all I had planned was a few hours of ironing, I quickly assented to coming along, although I did not exactly understand where we were headed.   When she picked me up a few minutes later, Anne explained that she herself was not sure about this whole sale thing, as it was in a farmhouse (so I HAD heard correctly!) and this was the last day of a week-long sale.  Totally curious and always on the look-out for something different to add to our wardrobes, we drove the short distance to Wicker and turned into a windy road leading to the farm buildings.  It was a beautiful, pastoral scene with just a few small signs leading us to an idyllic courtyard, so we drove in and parked the car.  Posted on the side of one of the buildings was a pricelist for game meat, but no real indication of where this "shopping event" was being held.  So we entered the only open door to find ourselves in a wide area surrounded by renovated barn kind of buildings, but not a soul in sight.  Undaunted, we just kept on until we found a door with a tiny sale sign and muted female voices behind it.


On opening this door, we were greeted by a perky young woman who thrust a price list in our hands.  She explained that each type of item (dresses, pants, shirts, tops, skirts, belts and accessories -- more there wasn't) had a fixed price.  The system was simple -- the racks set up around the periphery of the room were organized by size, and on tables in the middle lay folded T-shirts and jeans.  The saleswoman then left us to our own devices, and we made our way over to our size (Anne and I share the same one in clothes, only her feet are tiny compared to mine) to see what we could find.  The selection was not huge, but exactly to my taste, so within minutes I had my arms full.  Similarly Anne found a few items, and we decided to start trying on some of the clothes.  Only then did we realize that the women around us were in various stages of undress, and there appeared to be no changing rooms. Ofcourse not -- this was clearly a very temporary arrangement.  

So we did what we had to -- stripped down to our underwear and tried on the clothes. Had I known, I would have given more consideration to my choice of undergarments that morning.   It made me laugh and think that this would never fly in the States, but here it was absolutely no problem.  We admired (or not) our reflections in mirrors propped up on chairs, all the while surreptitiously glancing around and noting that the women around us appeared to have the same "problem zone" around the waist that we had, the difference being they were all at least 10 years younger.  Maybe our figures really aren't so bad after all.

The fixed prices being the bargain that they were, we both chose several items to take home.  It was not a big surprise when we heard that they only accepted cash, unfortunately neither of us had enough.  The helpful young saleswoman explained where the next ATM could be found, but blithely added that the day before it had been emptied by their customers.  So we zipped back to our bank in our town and returned right away to pick up the clothes.  

It was an unusual but highly successful shopping excursion, and I look forward to their return in September.  Apparently these young women -- whoever they may be -- set up shop at the farmhouse 4 times a year, and I certainly intend to go back, as I definitely like their taste in fashion.   Anne agreed that this is a good style for me and announced she now knows my type -- "Kindfrau" or Childwoman. I am just not sure if that is a compliment or not.