An
Interactive Shopping Spree
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Growing up
in tiny Harlem, Montana, local shopping, and there was no other kind, consisted
of small individual stores for every need. A monthly trip to town and women
could stock up on groceries and perhaps check out what’s new at the clothing
store.
For
breakdowns and tractor parts, back in the day, we had a plumber, an
electrician, a couple hardware-variety stores, three farm equipment places, two
car dealers and an insurance agent. For all things cowboy, we had a saddle
shop. Hey, what more does one need?
Let me not
forget catalogs. Do you remember catalogs? Such excitement and hours of
enjoyment when fat wish books appeared in the mail boxes.
A few years
later, a trip to Havre became normal, rather than a rare event. Imagine, whole
blocks of stores of every variety. Eventually, on top of the hill, wonder of
wonders, a mall. Under one climate-controlled roof, national brand names, everything
one needed or desired.
Independent
small stores struggled. Strip malls with boarded windows and closed doors began
to resemble gap-toothed first-graders. Malls had it all and became social
centers, places where friends gathered for a meal, for coffee, just to sit
around a fountain and gab.
What brought
on my reflections was a conversation with Denise who now lives in the Portland
area. We were talking about the Lloyd Center, at one time one of the most
exciting malls in the entire northwestern region. Even such a jewel as the Lloyd
Center is looking bedraggled, like something chewed up and spit out.
Why go to
the mall when one can sit in one’s recliner and with one click buy anything in
the entire universe. Probably. If one has enough money.
I dislike
online shopping. I do it. I recently bought a waffle iron online. I knew what I
wanted. It was easy. And for something such as a waffle iron, actually makes
sense, but that is because I know not one of the small tiendas in my town
carries such an item. Books, yes, I buy books online.
Where I have
to draw a firm line is shopping for clothing. Tempting as it is, I grit my
teeth and click delete. I speak with the voice of grim and bitter experience. That
beautiful blouse will not be the same color as pictured, will not fit the way
it fits the model, and will probably not be cotton as described. Or linen. Or
wool.
I’m
sensitive to synthetic fibers. It’s hard to find cotton clothing. Even jeans
have something mysterious added. If an item has a thread of cotton, the
descriptive tag can read “cotton”.
Think about
it. I’ll bet in a short time I’ll be able to stand in front of my computer and
ask it to dress me. “Show me what this blouse #A73b9plmK will look like on me.”
And magically, the blouse will appear as if I am actually wearing the item.
“Uh, okay, please show me the same item one size larger.” “Good. How about
green instead of blue, please.”
I’m not sure
how I’ll deal with the fiber content of the blue/green blouse but I’m sure some
genius will find a way for me to virtually feel the fabric.
Oops. I am
so far behind times, a jet plane could not catch me up. Here I thought I was
being so futuristic, so forward thinking, only to learn my futuristic fantasies
are already here.
My daughter
told me when she buys glasses, she sends her photo to the online site “store”
and from that, she can “try on” glasses and choose the frames she likes best.
She said they have apps for trying on clothes. They are here now.
I’ll wait. I
want to be able to instruct the computer to give me my appropriate size but
please shave off twenty pounds and thirty years so I can send pictures to
friends of the wonderful blouse I just bought online!
I’ll wait
until I have a completely interactive computer. When I ask my interactive buddy
if this outfit makes me look fat, it will reply, “Never, my love.”
I will stand
in front of the all-seeing computer eye each morning and chant, “Mirror,
mirror, on my wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”
My sweet
interactive computer will reply, “You, my Queen.”
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
November 11,
2021
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