Self-Pimpage and Retail Therapy

Bangkok has the best shopping EVER. Shopping here is a full sensory experience unlike any other. The people you talk to, the conversations that you have, the bargaining, the absolutely incredible things that you can buy, the truly random and bizarre things that you can buy, the smells of street vendor cuisine, the constant din of traffic providing a backdrop to the music that is anywhere from five to ten years old (nothing current....I have no idea what current songs or artists are inundating the radio waves in the U.S., as here we have Atomic Kitten and Sheryl Crow circa 1997). Shopping here is an altogether fascinating experience. It's part anthropological study, part economics lesson, part language immersion. LOVES. And the Thais are tremendously courteous and friendly while shopping. No one grabs or shoves or shouts. Everyone smiles and looks all hip and fashionable.

It is therefore no surprise that I tend to find myself rushing into the arms of retail therapy in Bangkok when dealing with any major emotion, such as grief (or preparing for grief). Shopping here just feels like LIFE. It feels vibrant and pulsating and present and filled with fantastically surprising quirks and details. And I find myself filled with a strange reverence during the entire experience.

So last weekend I headed to Siam Square--an area comprised of shops that are literally holes in the wall, and stuffed to the gills with creations by local designers.

I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE Asian fashion. I just find myself utterly unable to pull it off. I always wind up looking like a cartoon bubble, or like I'm playing dress up with my sparkly princess shoes from the toy store. And, well, many of these designs were not created for people from hardy Nordic heritage with birthing hips (i.e. ME).

However, last weekend as I nursed my chai tea latte (with double espresso shots), wandering in an admittedly zombie-like state through the utterly fabulous holes-in-the-wall-cum-shops, I found some incredible treasures.

This is the first time in my life (and probably the last....) that I've been able to afford the unique, one-of-a-kind designer stuff, and I found some amazing treasures. I found some kick-ass boots and some silver heels and a shirt that I got mainly for the broken English that just never fails to make me giggle and melt a little (it says "Please do not wait! Goes to call happiness! Peace our green earth and save." Um, yeah.....).

However, the true prizes of the day were some dresses--completely handmade, of course--that actually FIT and were lovely. They were actually rather simple, but the kind of thing that I will have forever. I got one in black and one in red. Even when I'm old and chunky and filled with stretch marks from multiple pregnancies (I am Nordic, after all....) these dresses will hang in my closet and remind me of a time when I lived in Asia, bought fantastic things, had daily adventures, and could still rock a red dress.

Now, I don't particularly enjoy posting pictures of myself on this blog (especially pictures where I'm deliberately posing), but other bloggers do it all the time. So what the hell. My apologies for the exhibitionism, as well as the bad pose. I've been watching old episodes of America's Next Top Model and CLEARLY not learning anything from them.



Here's the red one (that seems to photograph more orangey...). Behind me you can also see part of the batik sarong that I got in Bali. It is an absolutely lovely wall hanging, even though it looks a little hideous here.......

I'm not gonna lie: I just finished taking this picture and am now still wandering around my condo (and sitting demurely at my desk as I type) in my red dress.

Ah, retail therapy. The key that unlocks the magic of life's mysteries. Or something like that.