Amateur Shopper Hits Pro Circuit at Nordstrom

I was in Chicago last week. While my boys dreamed for days of the sharks they’d see at Shedd Aquarium and the stars they’d reach at Adler Planetarium, their mother daydreamed of something quite different.

The Nordstrom Anniversary Sale.

I spend time on a few fashion forums on the web, and the Nordies sale has been the hot topic of conversation for who knows how long. It wouldn’t be far fetched to believe it’s been plugged into the digital calendars of girls everywhere for weeks. Maybe even years – since the 1960s, the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale has been a legendary ritual for shopaholics. It’s never been a ritual of mine – in fact, I’ve never gone before. So, I delighted in the fact that, since my digs in Chicago were mere minutes from the Nordstrom store on the Magnificent Mile, I’d finally get to experience the frenzy.

And what a frenzy it was.

Throngs of women filled the store, shopping totes slung over both arms, filled with all the sale goodies they’d found. I started in the footwear department, where pumps, boots, sandals and flats flew -– every seat and every sales associate occupied. A woman beside me tried on a Michael Kors wedge on one foot, a strappy, color block Jessica Simpson pump on the other. If I’d wanted something from that department, I may still be there -– it felt as if for every single sales associate, there were 15 women waiting for a size to be delivered from the back room.

So I moved on to designer shoes, which was carefully guarded by security personnel. There, it was somewhat quieter. I humored myself by trying on a gorgeous pair of red Valentino d’orsay pumps, but my attention was quickly stolen by another pair of shoes beside them: a towering, magnificent pair of glitter-covered, stacked platform, leather Christian Louboutins. As I reached for them to admire the whimsical design, impeccable craftsmanship and smooth red sole, doing everything I could to keep myself from drooling all over them (and then having to skip a mortgage payment to pay for them) an amused security guard said to me, “Now those are what I call sittin’ down shoes.” I thought to myself that if I’d ever bought these, I’d never sit down while in them – there may never be another opportunity for my 5 foot, 2 inch self to get to 5’7.

I migrated over to bags. The handbag selection at Nordstrom is absolutely, delightfully, ridiculously fabulous. Halogen satchels, Marc by Marc Jacobs crossbodies, Prada totes, Kate Spade wallets, Longchamp bags. This section of the store was even more of a madhouse than the shoe department. Girls furiously rifled through stacks of handbags and clutches, some squealing at their fabulous finds. In my own arms I held a Longchamp Le Pliage medium tote in black, as well as a Chloe satchel in a beautiful elephant grey. From my fingers dangled a pair of brown gradient, oversized Marc by Marc Jacobs sunglasses. While I wasn’t so sure I’d actually purchase any of the items in my hands, I knew I’d have to hang on to the things I wanted, or risk losing them to the ravenous shoppers who circled around me.

I lasted only an hour and a half, and never made it past the first floor. More and more shoppers filed in, and I was soon shoulder to shoulder with other excited, exhausted women. The heat wave hadn’t yet reached Chicago, yet it began to feel unbearably hot and sweaty inside this packed North Michigan Avenue department store. I knew I’d be missing out on the chance to preview all the fall items that had just come in – all those sweaters and jackets and scarves in comforting fall colors like taupe, cognac, chestnut and gray – but not even the promise of slashed prices could bring me to keep going.

I never did buy a single item, but I was satisfied walking out of there anyway, thoroughly amused at my first experience at this famous sale. Seeing all those women stocking up on their fall wardrobes, snatching up fragrance and beauty exclusives, tripping over themselves trying to get to the last pair of whatever it was they so desperately had to have, cash and credit cards flying -- I realized that next to these women, these hardcore, heavy duty shoppers, I am but an amateur.