Anne Bradstreet, America’s first published poet, died this week in 1692. She married at age 16 and bore her husband eight children. Unbeknownst to her, her brother- in-law sent her poems back to England to be published, assuring people that she did not shirk her wifely duties by stealing time to write poems. She was, after all, a Puritan.
I’m no Puritan – far from it – but I, too, often find it difficult to pursue pleasurable activities unless my “chores” are complete.
My grandmother and mother weren’t Puritans either – though they were hard working, diligent wives and mothers sticking to the tasks at hand. The exception was on Saturdays – when their playful, frivolous sides emerged. On almost every Saturday, the three of us would get dressed-up, ride the bus downtown and spend the afternoon lunching and shopping. Department stores were ubiquitous, bustling and bursting with merchandise.
Even at the age of five, I recognized that the shopping was less important than the actual event itself. It was an outing – an occasion – a way to delineate a weekday from a Saturday – a defined span of leisure and pleasure –– even if we didn’t find the perfect engagement gift for cousin Marsha or the purse to match our new navy-blue shoes.
By 4:00 o clock on those afternoons, I was grumpy and tired. My grandmother would surreptitiously pass me a box of Milk Duds on the bus ride home – lifting my flagging spirits immediately.
And though I didn’t realize it at the time – it was also a day to see firsthand how adult mothers and daughters operated that complex, push-pull relationship.
I miss those days.
Now I’m a grandmother. If I shop for my grandkids at all, it’s more apt to be online through an app. They send me a picture via their cell phone of just what they want and I order it.
Shopping today is a much different experience:
Expedient
Efficient
Constrained
Isolating
And certainly not bookended by much hands-on pleasure
We shop day or night
Rain or shine
Usually alone
Through our phones or laptops
For precise things
Guaranteed to arrive at a precise time
A week ago, I broke out of my self-induced, non-hands-on shopping pattern. I actually entered two small boutiques in the bowels of NYC that on any other day I would have walked by – being reluctant to use my time so playfully. But on that day, I indulged my whim.
At both, I was the only customer in the store.
The shop keeper gave me her full attention.
And I was not under any time constraints
What did I find?
Surprisingly, I tried on things I’d never have picked out for myself.
I actually enjoyed looking at myself in the mirror and taking time to consider how the piece I had on would work with the rest of my wardrobe.
And I listened both patiently and avidly to why the salesperson chose that particular piece and how she suggested wearing it.
I left with some truly great bargains.
(In fairness, shopping post-Labor Day in NYC for warm weather clothes you can wear in Florida over the winter – well, you’d have to be pretty, pretty dense not to run into great markdowns and bargains.)
On the other hand:
I devoted myself to the pure pleasure of shopping and rediscovered the creative lift I got from finding wardrobe pieces I adore.
I gave revenue infusion to a small, owner-operated store.
I had a pleasant exchange with an actual sales person.
I experienced instant gratification of walking out with a tangible purpose
Covid still reigns supreme, so I’m not advocating we all run out and engage in person-to-person shopping sprees right this moment. But I am saying that taking time to shop for pleasure and taking time to indulge in some actual face-to-face retail therapy has benefits far beyond the moment.
And seeking out those we cherish as companions in this process is the key addition. My mom and grandmother knew this instinctively. It’s something we need to re-discover and hold scared.
In closing, to my Jewish friends and family: A sweet New Year filled with Good Health, Peace, Serenity and Happiness today and always – L’Shanah Tovah
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor