What's Next?: Shopping Beyond My Means

Last week I was put up by my employer at the Pan Pacific Hotel in Vancouver. It is an amazing, 5 star luxury hotel on the waterfront in downtown Vancouver. I have never stayed in a hotel quite like this one. Down pillows and duvets, immaculately dressed staff who treat the guests like royalty. The problem with all of this luxury and attention is that they treated me as though I was entitled and wealthy; which I am neither. And, I felt that I had to dress up to walk to the ice machine. Which was a bit of a drag. Totally not my style.

So, after my first evening of being treated like the princess that I have always strived to become, a totally bizarre transformation took place in the core of my psyche. I embraced the feeling of entitlement. Hell, my credit cards have been paid off for weeks now; I really am wealthy.

After my first night of sleeping on the clouds with angels playing harps in the air above me, I woke to a gorgeous man next to me in my king-sized bed telling me it's time to wake up to start my beautiful day. Well, it was actually the phone ringing with my wake up call. But, he had a really nice voice.

Now that I am feeling like I belong to a class of citizen that I have only seen in the tabloids, I come to the realization that I need new clothes. A person of my stature must shop at Holt Renfrew and, with my new scent of the Pan Pacific wafting out of my pores, I immediately attract a Personal Shopper named Gabrielle. This is true, I can't make this shit up!

I am embarrassed to admit to the delight and elation that I felt as I followed Gabby (we are close now, so I can call her Gabby) through the various designer alcoves as she whipped signature pieces off the racks without missing a long-legged stride. I felt like I was in a scene from The Devil Wears Prada. She showed me to a dressing room the size of a small bedroom just off the Gucci suite and asked me if I would like a bottled water; sparkling or flat. Apparently she knew that I was going to look at the price tags as soon as she closed the door and may need the water. If Gabby really knew me, she would have offered me wine.

Wow! Expensive clothes really do fit better. My advice to all of you....NEVER try them on!

As I strut out in my various ensembles; Gabby is practically applauding, the mirrors are obviously fixed and the personal tailor is standing by with her tape measures and pins. Now that I am totally playing the part, I float like a gazelle towards my dressing room, flip my hair over my shoulder and point to a rack; "Oh Gabby, would you be a dear and grab me that little red Prada jacket in my size?".

What the Fuck........over!

Princess Kimberly of Fruitvale has now taken over any remaining sanity and therefore any hope at escaping with my dignity intact. The only solution...... I'll just buy something and head for the nearest door whilst maintaining the facade.

So, I buy a beautiful $1200.00 red Prada rain jacket, flee to my hotel, try it on 18 times, have a totally fitful sleep in the bed that has now become the enemy, and, return the coat the next day with a huge sigh of relief.

I am, this week, contentedly lazing in a hotel room at the Holiday Inn where I am quite comfortable walking to the ice machine shoeless and braless. Right where I belong.