Back in my High School days, I was musically confused. I loved The Beatles, but no one really shared that with me. My friend Jennifer was really into the kind of music I regularly listen to now, but alas, I let the Atlanta swag take over my radio. I remember one time, walking into Hollister with my mom and taking my time looking over all the cool clothes from the front to the back of the store.
“It’s too dark in here” said Mom. ”And the music is TOO LOUD! How do you shop in a place like this? I don’t like it. You don’t need any clothes from here.”
We exited the store, and I promised myself right then and there that I would always be able to shop with loud music in the background. Psh, parents. So unhip. I’ll be a cool mom! I’ll always enjoy stores that are dimly lit with giant pictures of strangers who are less than partially wearing designer clothes while laying on the sand and somehow managed to get a horrible cologne scent named after them!
I haven’t stepped foot into a Hollister store in years.
I had actually forgotten all about that promise until today. Every year, I realize that I hardly have any fall clothes, and every year I somehow manage to get away with wearing my Tennessee sweatshirt for most relaxed occasions. I had some extra time to kill before I needed to head over to Will’s house, so I decided to follow the instructions of the Plato’s Closet commercial and check it out. All I knew about this store beforehand was that it contained tons of brand name clothes at extraordinarily cheap prices. Sweaters galore, right? I should have known not to even go in once I read the words “We Buy and Sell Clothes for Teens” on the front windows. Strike 1. I walked in and nearly fell backwards due to the obnoxious volume of the music playing, and bad music at that. Cheap sweaters was on my mind though, so I attempted to browse.
Mom Count: 1… 2… 3… 4 – ah, but mom number 4 is shopping for herself. At a teen store. Strike 2.
My mom was right. It is IMPOSSIBLE to concentrate on prices and types of clothing when the music playing at 50+ volume is nothing but bass and auto-tune, and some guy is singing about some club and how the beat in said club is poppin’. Strike 3.
Needless to say, I was in the store a total of 90 seconds before I ran out of the store yelling, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” in my head. I mom-walked all the way up to Hobby Lobby and audibly sighed once I stepped into a fallish fragrance and an acoustic version of In the Sweet By and By.
So when my mom was way uncool by declaring that my store of choice was too difficult to shop in because of its bad lighting and terrible taste in music, she was actually being a lot cooler than me.