Apples and Oranges...or rather, Apples and stupid dumbass Sales Clerks.

I'm sorry. I know I've been really bad about staying on top of things with this blog...but x-mas, and shopping, and holiday parties = no time. The good news is, I'll be writing a few posts today, so there should be some coming up over the next week or so!

Okay, so what was this about apples an orange sales clerks? WELL, where to begin...?

I'm getting married (we've established this...humour me), and to get married I need to wear a wedding dress. To get a wedding dress, I need to buy one. I went to my store of choice, tried some on, and was told I could talk with a designer and do some custom work on a 1930s style dress they had, as detailed here in my last post. Ok, we're all on the same page? Awesome.

So I went back, with my Mom in tow for advice...or criticism, I'm not sure... And thus begin the interaction with the sales girl from hell...

I brought in a drawing I had done of what I had in mind, taking decorative elements from their other designs and adding them to the plain 1930s satin dress they had. (forgive my questionable photoshop skills)

Original dress on the left, design with added train, satin flowers, and pleated scarf-y element on the right.

The nice girl I had originally talked to was gone. *ominous thunder* The new girl was very skeptical of this "changing elements on the dress" concept, in fact, I believe she called it "illegal". Folks, this is a slightly customized dress, in a dress store...not black tar heroin being smuggled out of Afghanistan by an army of drug mules. She offered to get the stylist on duty, and I (foolishly) thought "Yay! Someone who isn't insane!". Silly Rabbit, dresses are for non-illegal customization only.

Now, let me preface, I am not racist. BUT when an Asian girl with an orange fake tan and bleach blond hair saunters over, I suspect we will have differing ideas on a great many issues (to be fair, ANYone with orange fake tan an bleach blond hair, but this was particularly terrifying). This stylist  maintained that any kind of customizations were "illegal" and demanded to know the name of the sales clerk who had told me it could be done. Thank god I didn't remember her name...I suspect we would never have found her body...

It was very clear that I was getting nowhere on this custom dress front...which was fine. But this stylist's hard-line attitude was a real shame because:

a) I know they do customizations, friends of mine have had dresses customized there.
b) I really want to spend my money at a local designer's store. Especially one with the history that Fashion Crimes has on Queen St. W.
c) I really fricken wanted the dress I wanted.

The stylist offered to show me their other wedding dresses, but I politely tried to leave. I've been there many times, I've tried things on, and I know what is and isn't there and what fits my budget/vision and what doesn't. She was very insistent.

She heads over the wedding dresses begins to randomly pull out dresses, "What about this one? What about this one? What about this one?". I mean, I suppose this works in some cases...but I can't shake the feeling that she really doesn't give a flying fuck.

For example, the first dress she pulls out is pink, with pink beading. Um, pink? Not only do I HATE pink, I doubt that anyone has EVER purchased a pink wedding dress from them (with pink beading) I shake my head, no. She pulls out a dress with mirrored tiles sewed to it. My eyebrows raise, of their own volition...Seriously? No. She continues down the rack, not stopping to, oh I don't know, ask me what I like and what I had in mind. No, no, the "What about this one? What about this one?" method seems to be her favourite.

Suddenly she stops and turns to me, "What would you say your shape is? Apple shaped?"

...

I stare at her for a second before I managed "Uh, no...hourglass."

...


I am no fat girl. I know that simply by insisting I'm not, I now need proof. Okay, I got yer proof. In fact, my measurements are a match top and bottom with a -10" difference to the waist (no, you're not getting the numbers, I have some class...or dignity, or whatever). You can say what you like, but apple shaped, I am not.

She follows this up with "What about a mermaid style dress?" That's fine, except I HATE mermaid style dresses. (For all the boys in the audience, a mermaid style dress is a very tight dress that flairs out at about the knees.) I. Just. Do. Not. Like. It. All I call see is early 90's Barbies.

FML.

"I really don't like mermaid style dresses..."
She casts me a pitying look.
"Oh, is it 'cause they're form-fitted?"
...
At this point, I announced that it was time for me and my Mother to leave and finish up our Christmas shopping.


Now, I've been wrestling with this whole exchange for a few weeks...part of me wants to contact the store's owner and tell how much I love her designs, and how much I want to get my wedding dress
there..and part of me wants to rail about how unprofessional and catty her stylist was/is.

What kills me more than anything is that I really wanted to give my business to Fashion Crimes, and not only would I have bought my dress there, but my Mother and several members of the wedding party were also going to buy their dresses there. But that stylist not only prevented me from shopping there, she insulted me (twice) just for good measure.

In the end, they still make beautiful dresses, and I still recommend them to people looking for a nice dress...just maybe not for wedding dresses.

P.S.
I also had to go behind the counter to retrieve my sketch because the stylist ran off on a coffee break before returning my drawing. No Me Gusta.