It Doesn't Show Signs of Shopping
Much ado has been made about the radical change in the Texas weather over the past few days, as if radical changes in Texas weather don't happen that often. For a full week beforehand, weather.com forecasted that Dallas would see snow "flurries" during the middle of this week. And yet, when the flakes came down and turned to "snirt" - the combination of snow and dirt that lines the streets, or, as citizens of Minneapolis call it, "grass" - people in Dallas began to freak out.
Walking through the mall, you would think we lived near the magnetic North Pole. Trendy kids wore five layers of North Face fleece and jackets, Highland Park moms wore more Burberry than Jay-Z, and lost men searched for Christmas gifts in trench coats and mufflers wrapped up to their ears. I felt that, because I planned on being inside the mall, a sweater and jeans would suffice. I was correct. I even wore socks and boots, which is a small miracle because I try to wear sandals whenever possible.
Example: I flew to DC last January. I wore sandals on the plane. I wore sandals until we landed, I got my bags, and walked to the door of the terminal. At this point, I took off my sandals and put on duck boots. I didn't even know I owned duck boots until I found them in the back of my closet while packing. I got in my buddy's car and the moment we arrived at his apartment, the sandals were back on. In other words, I am serious when I say I do not enjoy wearing closed-toed shoes. If you want to know more about my philosophy about footwear, then you should ask, because they really aren't that interesting, not even by blog standards.
Anyway, I was at the mall for all of thirty minutes before I got fed up and left. Dallas's NorthPark Center is a "high-end" mall, which means that you pay for the tag on the shirt, not the shirt itself. I don't enjoy going to the mall in the first place - mainly because I have very little respect for the tastes of the American consumer - but NorthPark is ridiculous.
First of all, its south of Park Lane, so the name doesn't even make sense. Second of all, I can't stand the rich women who valet park their Range Rovers next to Neiman's and go inside for $400 facials so they can look 6 weeks younger for about a day. They do this because they have been in a loveless marriage for the better part of a decade, but want to stay together for the kids - which is what they call their two Pomeranians - and they have to impress the pool boy somehow. Also, it pains me to see 15 year old girls buying $120 jeans and talking into their $250 cell phone/camera/video game console before climbing into their Benz that they drive using a "hardship" license.
Basically, I am not a fan of the Dallas social scene. I have my reasons, and I am sure I will get into them one day.
The good news is, I don't have to go to the mall again. And the high is supposed to be 60 (that's in Farenheit for the international readers) by the weekend.
Walking through the mall, you would think we lived near the magnetic North Pole. Trendy kids wore five layers of North Face fleece and jackets, Highland Park moms wore more Burberry than Jay-Z, and lost men searched for Christmas gifts in trench coats and mufflers wrapped up to their ears. I felt that, because I planned on being inside the mall, a sweater and jeans would suffice. I was correct. I even wore socks and boots, which is a small miracle because I try to wear sandals whenever possible.
Example: I flew to DC last January. I wore sandals on the plane. I wore sandals until we landed, I got my bags, and walked to the door of the terminal. At this point, I took off my sandals and put on duck boots. I didn't even know I owned duck boots until I found them in the back of my closet while packing. I got in my buddy's car and the moment we arrived at his apartment, the sandals were back on. In other words, I am serious when I say I do not enjoy wearing closed-toed shoes. If you want to know more about my philosophy about footwear, then you should ask, because they really aren't that interesting, not even by blog standards.
Anyway, I was at the mall for all of thirty minutes before I got fed up and left. Dallas's NorthPark Center is a "high-end" mall, which means that you pay for the tag on the shirt, not the shirt itself. I don't enjoy going to the mall in the first place - mainly because I have very little respect for the tastes of the American consumer - but NorthPark is ridiculous.
First of all, its south of Park Lane, so the name doesn't even make sense. Second of all, I can't stand the rich women who valet park their Range Rovers next to Neiman's and go inside for $400 facials so they can look 6 weeks younger for about a day. They do this because they have been in a loveless marriage for the better part of a decade, but want to stay together for the kids - which is what they call their two Pomeranians - and they have to impress the pool boy somehow. Also, it pains me to see 15 year old girls buying $120 jeans and talking into their $250 cell phone/camera/video game console before climbing into their Benz that they drive using a "hardship" license.
Basically, I am not a fan of the Dallas social scene. I have my reasons, and I am sure I will get into them one day.
The good news is, I don't have to go to the mall again. And the high is supposed to be 60 (that's in Farenheit for the international readers) by the weekend.

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