Traditions (June Write-Away Contest)

The All Time Shopping Spree by Dorit Sasson







When she was doing well back in the days when I still lived in Greenwich Village, mom loved to take me shopping, in our own little tradition. The best time was spring shopping; in came all the spring clothes from the previous year and out tossed the coats. Almost always mom ordered a new spring wardrobe for me; this ended almost always in a fight. But for every shirt I eventually did toss, my mom’s smile grew wider.

I wanted a shirt with puffed sleeves. Why? I don’t know. I remember the first Saturday of the spring months when a paycheck and a blue filled sky came all at once. We’d subway up to Times Square, walked over a good three long avenues, share a salted pretzel on the same corner stand where the trucks coughed their smoke and for fifty cents, had a snack of the day. We’d then wash down the last thick salty seeds with a coke making sure out hands were clean before running to the bargain racks at Macy’s, Gimbles and every other store in the area we could think of.

We’d attack the bargain racks comparing prices from Ralph Lauren Polo Shirts to no-name brands. I secretly hoped for a name brand on sale hoping to find the perfect spring shirt. Two hours later, I would find my search materializing in puffed sleeves with colorful lines that looked almost ridiculous. I flashed my mom’s credit card at the checkout happy for the rainbow colors. I always promised her: “I won’t go over the 100$ dollars mark.” My mom always said, “I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

After our spree, we would slide unto a Path train where we would always find two seats away from the Saturday crowd. We would look at my purchases before heading to the Famous Ray’s pizzeria in Greenwich Village where we would munch on two cheesy slices of pizza and a coke "to-go." Of course “another slice of pizza” was always granted.

It was our special time out – my mom and I. She knew how much finding a bargain made me feel and whooped when a shirt with puffed sleeves made me happy. But we both knew that my father’s two jobs were the only reasons why I could have puffed sleeves.
“Don’t be a worry bug, just be a happy bug.” She would say in her own carefree way. “Just buy whatever you want.” It was just like her to see past my worried expressions that had become a growing part of twelve year old whose hopes of a better financial future had already been molded down with fear.

So back in 1985, she asked: “So did you find the halter dress you wanted?” Her face was all eager just ready to plunk her credit card down.

“No, they’re too small.” I had lied.

I handed her back the credit card but she was following me around the junior section like a small puppy. “How about a sundress? Or a windbreaker? A windbreaker’s always good.”
“No mom. Let’s just go home. I have everything I need.”
As much as I wanted one of those perky looking sundresses with the halter-like top, I felt time had come to bend tradition a bit. “Keep the credit card. Let’s just go for a walk.” I said leaving a surprised mom behind.

Since then, I have never been on a shopping spree with her again.

This post has been submitted to Michelle's June Write-Away contest. The theme this month is "traditions".