The Times - Serving Waitsburg, Dayton and the Touchet Valley

I spent last Sunday at the mall in the Tri-Cities. I've never been big on shopping, so when I do head to Columbia Center I tend to find myself in a detached state of social critique and scholarly observation. (At least, that's the excuse I sheepishly offer my friends when I leave a five-hour shopping trip empty-handed and they begin enviously eyeing my plump billfold.)

Last Sunday, I learned that I was never meant to wear a maxi dress. In the best-case scenario, I look like a fluorescent twig. More typically, I look like an ambulatory roll of discountrack polyester.

I also learned that if you're hungry in a mall and want to avoid the steep food-court prices, you should walk by an Abercrombie and Fitch store. The smell of teen angst and asphalt-scented reed diffusers will make the notion of food seem immensely less appealing. (If you've just eaten lunch, however, I recommend avoiding A&F.) Apparently, the hardest thing to find in life is not true love. It's a floor-length white dress with a decent lining. (Hint: J.C. Penney. Check the clearance rack.)

I finally found a suitable sample for $19.99. I'm guessing it was a holdover from prom season and that they lost some money on that one. But on the way out, I discovered their nefarious plan to make up for that loss - a necklace made of big chunky links of what looked like amber but was almost certainly plastic (it smelled like plastic and clinked like it, too) for $166.99.

I'm dead serious. And it was right out on a display in the middle of the aisle, not under glass like the fine jewelry in that price range, so despite its price it wouldn't seem to be all that valuable.

Feeling smug at having uncovered that con, I ducked into a nearby shop and purchased an $18 tube of chapstick.

Coldwater Creek was having a huge clearance sale when we went in. I didn't end up buying anything because their smallest size was a woman's 4 and I, the stick insect, was fairly swimming in their "extra small". The store was closing, so the discounts were pretty good - and literally everything was for sale. There was a crate of mannequin arms at 50% off, and somewhat pointless blocks of plasticky-looking "wood" were for sale as well. In the dressing rooms, there were "sold" stickers on everything from the threepanel mirror outside to the hooks on the walls. I didn't see any of those on the carpet itself, but it wouldn't have surprised me much.

We exited through Barnes and Noble, where I spent a predictably long time indulging my addiction to the written word. It took a good deal of yanking to pry me out of the Young Adult - Fantasy section. (Had I wandered into the nonfiction section, though, it would've taken a crowbar to budge me. Fantasy's nice, but when it comes to biographies and exposes, I'm a certifiable nut. Yes, really.)

I exited about four hours after entering. My feet were starting to ache, and sitting down in the car was sounding like a better and better idea - as was a little shuteye.

And maybe a little bit of distance from Abercrombie.