Date with Downtown

Inspired by the beautiful Fall weather, I decided to take myself on a date. I made myself a hair appointment, did a little recon on fun places to target, made sure I had my handy Clipper Card (the new "re-loadable" magnetic card that all in-the-know city folk use to ride the BART), donned my comfy boots and set off. Today was the day I was chopping off my hair - well 6 or so inches of it anyway. I felt empowered!

Having researched short hair styles on-line, I was ready with a photo that represented the look I was going for. While showing Ledora the picture (and wondering if she was secretly hating me) I gave all the disclaimers I could think of..."I know I might not have the hair for this, not sure if this style will look good with my face shape, I  mean, I know I'm not 'Heidi Klum'"...and several other self-doubting statements that we girls are so good at coming up with before a major beauty change.  After talking me out of that particular style, but assuring me that she had a plan, Ledora took the first snip.  It felt good.  Once she was finished, I have to say...I didn't completely hate it. After a few more minutes I actually started to love it. (in this cloud of bliss, I momentarily lost sight of the fact that $30 for a can of mousse is downright outrageous and agreed to tack it on to the bill. damn. it better make me look like Heidi Klum.)

Enjoying the "swish" of my new do, I found myself walking more quickly down the street.  I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible while attempting to steal a glance at my reflection in the store windows.  Finally reaching the nail salon, I was pleased to see that I was the only one there. No wait= lucky day. Continuing my bold streak, I picked out a deep purple for my toes and plunked my feet into the soothing bath water. Bliss. Attempting to make conversation, the nail lady asked about my day.  I told her about my daring move to chop off my long hair and she looked at me puzzled saying, "why you do that?" hmmm. Wasn't expecting that. After a defensive giggle and mumbling something about "ready for a change," I closed my eyes in attempt to signal I wasn't really up for conversation. To this ingenuitous young lady, my relaxation signaled I must want to upgade to a foot message..."ten dollahs...ten minute?" ok...what the hell? I had already blown 30 on a can of compressed air...what was 10 more? Gotta say...best foot message...ever. Completely worth it.

With my new shiny purple toes, I headed down the street in search of more adventure (and specifically a quest for the perfect pair of black riding boots).  I pass so many alluring shops Anthropologie, Sephora, Prada, Urban Outfitters...it was like the Candy Land of shopping. Enter Tory Burch. Can no longer resist. Defenses are down. I go in. I am greeted by two "associates" at the front. Two. Young preppy girl with long blonde hair and fabulously gay Asian man. YPG must have laid her claim to me as she was the one that followed me to the boot section. No sooner do my eyes land on the holy grail of all riding boots than her perky voice eggs me on, "would you like to see these in your size?" Can't do it. These have to be well...above my price ran...oh lord...yes. Staring back at me...$495 price tag. I muster up some kind of "Christmas list" excuse and evacuate. Need cool air.

Head on to try to find the Benefit "Brow Bar" that I've heard so much about. In retro throw-back form, I have the address written on a piece of paper (GPS has burned me badly before while downtown. we're currently working out our trust issues).  485 Market Street. Find Market. Determine that I am on "even" side of the street. Cross over to "odd." 463 Market Street. Keep walking to determine if I am walking in correct direction. Pass Aldo shoe store. Could be hit or miss. Worth a look. Lust over authentic looking cowboy boots. Muster will power. Exit Aldo. Walk past several store fronts without seeing any address identification. Feeling frustration mounting.  Pass open doors of Abercrombie and Fitch store. Model-eque boy greeter makes eye contact. Use this to my advantage and ask him for direction. He passes me off to not so model-esque security guard (should have known using addresses and map location to find places was waaaay before Boy Wonder's time).  He tells me to walk back the way I just came from. Frustration now oozing. After retracing my steps for the 4th time, I ask a Victoria's Secret girl. She tells me illusive Brow Bar is located inside Macys. Of course it is. Would have been excellent if they had mentioned that little tidbit next to the address on their website. Eurekea. Brow Bar is in sight. A few less brow hairs later, I am on my way to BART.



During my walk, I attempt to rationalize purchase of more-than-a-car-payment boots. "I mean riding boots are classic...I could wear them pretty much forever. So if I amortize $495 out over the next say....25 years...that's totally affordable."  Pass H&M (remember I am in shopping Candy Land); see perfect black riding boots on model. I walk in with a purpose...not going to look at clothes. Just boots. Navigate self to shoe section. No black riding boots. Hunt down snooty associate. Points at the shoe section we are two feet away from. Yeah, got it mister, that's where they should be. I plead with him and show him the ones on the model.  Snoot McGrumpyPants informs me that those are just for show...they do not actually sell those. Fantastic. Feeling dejected after being so close to my goal, I see a gorgeous double-breasted coat with brass buttons...and it happens to come in a fabulous 50's turquoise.  Wait...what's that....there's a 50% off tag on it. Oh yes, please come home with me!

Regaining focus, I descend to the BART station. After being briefly verbally accosted by a man "needing a favor...and it's not money" (he was wanting a BART ticket home or so he said.  I say he needs to work on his intro a bit),  I was on my way home (still, of course,  attempting to rationalize boot purchase) feeling pretty successful about my date. This could definitely lead to a long-term relationship.