Somebody find me a Payless

So, I'm in an unnamed East Coast city, staying in a part of the city that one brochure referred to as "The Rodeo Drive of the East." Needless to say, it's a bit hard for this chainsaw-hefting, pickup-driving Alaska diva to blend in. And I have to say, the whole shopping this is more than a little disturbing.

Pretentious doesn't even begin to touch the two nearby malls. Most of the stores are what I would call understocked. That means they are very brightly lit, staffed by snooty-looking women and adorned with wall-sized images of emaciated women sucking in their cheeks so they look even more skeletal than they are. And that's about it. If you look really, really close, you'll spot the merchandise hidden among the mirrored shelves and techno mannequins. By merchandise, I mean 12 purses, four pairs of shoes and 10 shirts. Oh, and did I mention that the price tag on those four pairs of shoes would feed a family in Guatemala for three years, at least?

I want to shop. I am a diva, after all. But, damn, this place is like some sort of museum of modern pretention. I need to get on a subway, stat.

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