It is once again time for the semi-annual sales, or soldes. While the reductions are not quite as drastic as last year, when stores started marking down their merchandise before Christmas, there are still lots of good deals to be had.
As I mentioned last week, there are lots of things I want, but not many of them are clothing-related. In fact, it's really mostly footwear that I need. The only exception is a new winter coat. Three years ago, my first winter in Paris, I fell in love with a beautiful but expensive wool coat from Tara Jarmon. It ended up being nothing but problematic. The buttons fell off, the lining ripped, the wool became discolored . . . basically, it was a giant rip-off. But I paid a lot of money for it, and felt that I couldn't buy another coat while it was still functional. I also had an old red wool coat that I bought in Bologna, in 2000. So between the two of them, I was pretty covered, although dated and a bit scruffy.
I knew that I really wanted a new coat this year, for real. Friday night I found one I really liked, at the Comptoirs des Cotonniers stand in Printemps. (For the record, I am staunchly pro-Printemps and anti-Galeries. The new Printemps remodeling is really swanky, and I've never liked Galeries' circular layout.) For some asinine reason, I didn't buy it right then and there, despite the fact that they had my size in black. I decided to go back and get it today, except it's Sunday, so the grands magasins are closed. But the marais is open, so I headed over to the big Comptoirs on rue Pavée.
And so began my day of searching throughout Paris for the damned coat. In all, I went to six stores, in four arrondissements. I was treated really awfully by two saleswomen, and really well by four. (Do NOT go to the store on rue Tronchet in the 8th. They're evil.) I think it took about three hours, and I was told more than once that I'm very courageuse. I suppose that's better than being told I'm stubborn and obsessive, right?
You may wonder why I didn't just call ahead and ask the stores to check their stock. Well, I tried. When I asked the saleswoman at store 2 to call ahead to store 3, she refused, saying they couldn't make phone calls during the sales. I asked her to give me the number so I could call, and she huffed and sighed a lot before doing so. When I finally did call, the saleswoman at store 3 (the aforementioned evil rue Tronchet branch) refused to look, saying they were too busy, and hung up on me. I went over there anyway, they didn't have a 38, so I asked if they could please give me the exact address for store 4. I knew it was on rue de la Paix, but didn't know what number. You'd think I had asked for her first-born child. She started screaming at me, that she's not my secretary, and I just walked out of the store while she yelled after me. They weren't even busy. There were four saleswomen and maybe six or seven customers, so it's not like I was asking a big thing.
I gave up on calling ahead, and resigned myself to trudging around town. I was determined to get this coat. The more I thought about it, the more it became this mythic perfect coat that I would forever regret not buying on Friday night. I was muttering to myself about how being frugal gets me in these stupid situations and I need to learn not to be so tight with my money. I then started thinking about other purchases that got away, like the hand-embroidered top in a small town outside of Budapest and the gold ring in Crete (Oh beautiful gold ring, I still think of you!), and I vowed to treat myself a little bit better when it comes to spending my hard-earned money.
Luckily the story has a happy ending, 'cause the sixth store, on rue de Rennes, had one last black 38. I happily paid the cashier, in cash earned from babysitting Lucas, and strolled out to have a celebratory lunch and movie. But not before asking for the détaxe form. Hey, 12% back is nothing to sneeze at, and old habits die hard.
la fille en rose 