Macy's Way to Shop

One of the wonderful things about being back home on the East Coast, was the ability to shop at Macy's without feeling like you are committing a grave sin against Chicago.

Growing up in New Jersey, I was barely old enough to notice when Macy's bought out Bamberger's. I know that this upset my mom, so on some level I cared, but I was too young to know the difference between Kmart clothes and Nordstrom clothes and my little world was unaltered by this news. Those of us native to New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania, at the very least, have come to accept Macy's as another place to shop. That is entirely different in Chicago.

Marshall Field's used to be a Chicago landmark, an icon even. Founded in 1852, this was the greatest of Chicago's stores, for reasons a transplant to this city, such as myself, can't quite appreciate. I've been to the State Street location, the flagship store, and it was an experience unlike most other department stores. There is a breathtaking Tiffany ceiling, the Walnut Room and the unique experience of taking incredibly narrow escalators up the seemingly endless floors. During the visits I've made there though, the store was generally dirty, the staff was either surly or bored and the merchandise over priced. A bonus though, was that the store was rarely crowded after the first tourist filled floor.

At any rate, during August and September 2006, Federated Department Stores (Macy's) usurped the Field's name and many of the signature features of the original store. It was, and still is, seen as a travesty by many Chicagoans, some of whom boycotted the take over and some of whom refuse to ever shop at the evil Macy's.

Interestingly enough, an editor for the Chicago Tribune quipped, on September 9, 2006, the official day Field's became Macy's, "Chicagoans loved Marshall Field's, just not enough to shop there." I think he is very perceptive.

Shopping at Macy's on the East Coast, the only sins I felt like I was committing were those of trying to stock-up before our boycott went into effect and reckless spending on my Macy's card. See, my weaknesses in any store, are the lingerie department and the clearance sections. The Macy's my mom and I went to in PA had a clearance in the lingerie section, and, early Christmas dreams come true, they had bras in my size! This is a rare thing for me to find and I was beside myself shuffling through the racks, a ridiculous number of bras precariously balanced on my arms.

It was after midnight and I was wrecked tired before this, yet spotting those clearance racks was like a beacon of hope. The oasis was further inviting because I noticed, as Luke and I took random stock of things in our apartment, that most of my comfortable bras (now that is an oxymoron!) were made in China. I panicked, not knowing what I was going to do to cover my cleavage in 2007.

Fortunately, Macy's had the answer! I bought five bras that night, for $10 each, a third of their original costs, and I'm still thrilled with my treasures. This thrill probably has more to do with my perceived inability to buy bras in 2007 as easily as I did before Christmas 2006, but I don't want to analyze that notion too much.

Two days after Christmas, Macy's "Way to Shop" rescued me again! Who knew they were a knight in shinning armour? I'd previously only seen them as a hit or miss place to get great stuff on clearance. This time though, I had just finished up a three hour interview, and "needed" some decompression at the only store where I had an active credit card.

The racks were full and the sales were impressive. I stayed long enough that it would have been senseless to leave since I would only be sitting in traffic, and that was far less fun than consuming goods without thought to where they were made; so I stayed and shopped 'til my feet hurt and my purchases were cumbersome. I shushed the guilt in my head, tried to beat it down with nonsensical statements like, "I can pay this off slowly," "Look how much money I'm saving," and "This will look great on me when I get a job," or, my personal favorite, "Well, if I were buying this in Chicago, I'd have to pay sales tax too, so this really is a better deal to buy it here." Oh, it was fun.

Back at my mom's, I had to figure out where to store all this stuff in the already full guest room and I ended up leaving some of the less practical items with her when I returned to Chicago. There really isn't much of a need for summer clothes here in the middle of winter! Now that I've been back in Chicago for two weeks, I've worn one of the black tank tops I bought at Macy's (it gets really hot in the room where I'm writing) and everything else sits in my closet, nearly forgotten about. Except for the bras of course, I wear those and celebrate their existence every day.

My shopping sprees were bittersweet as they reminded my of our impending ban and the lifestyle it would change, as well as calling attention to my love of shopping. Regardless of whether my latest find was from a clearance rack or the full price rack, I still link much of my identity and validation to the things I purchase, and that is an unsettling realization.