The Tale of a Mother-Daughter Shopping Spree
While pondering mother-daughter relationships, I recalled a story I wrote 40 years ago, after going bedspread shopping with my mom. Sure enough, since Mother saved and filed everything I ever wrote, I was able to find the original hand-written essay in less than ten minutes. What I could not find were many photos of the two of us together. The photo above was taken just before my first year of teaching, when Mother came to help me set up my classroom.
* * * * *
Shopping is one of life’s most exasperating experiences.
My mother and I, for example, behave affably most of the time. Put us in a clothing or furniture store, however, and we become angered siamese cats, hissing and spitting over wide differences of opinion.
As we entered Bedspread Haven, a little bell jingled in welcome, announcing our arrival.
“Oh, look at this one!” we squealed simultaneously, rushing to opposite sides of the display.
“That one?!?”
Again in unison, our voices colored with horror.
“Oh you don’t want that,” Mother faltered. “It lacks something…”
“Well, I can be much more specific: yours is pink!”
My tone of voice left no question in the mind of the approaching salesperson as to my sentiments concerning the color.
“May I help you ladies?” he inquired.
I looked at him pityingly. He seemed like such a nice young man.
Mother’s look of annoyance at her daughter’s lack of taste smoothed into a smile.
“We’re looking for a bedspread,” she said.
“Genius,” I muttered under my breath. “Pure genius…”
Ignoring my sarcasm, Mother proceeded to describe, in full detail, our redecorating plans and activities of the previous ten months.
Everything he never wanted to know and more, I thought. He was still smiling, I noticed. What a nice young man.
“Cheri?” Mother cut into my thoughts.
“Yeah … er … yes?” I’d obviously missed my conversation cue.
“What colors are you interested in?” she prompted me.
Chartreuse and black, I mused. How would that effect the nice young man’s smile?
“Um…blue and aqua. No pink!”
Mother gave me a quick glare, then flashed on her smile once again.
“Could you show us what you have in these colors?”
“Certainly. Follow me.”
The salesman turned and walked toward the back of the store, loosening his collar as he went.
“Hey, this is pretty neat!” I pointed to a bright blue bundle.
“I supposed…” Mother stopped and laboriously flipped through the rack of spreads. “Now this one…”
A faint moan escaped my lips. I stumbled, clutched the post of a near-by bed for support. A cough racked my chest.
“Honestly, Cheri, that’s quite enough. It’s more of a mauve or cranberry, you know!” She gave an exasperated sigh.
The salesman waited until Mother’s smile was back in pale before leading us to a few bedspreads he had chosen. I detected a slight flushing at his temples; somehow, his smile seemed less spontaneous, more forced.
“You mentioned aqua. I thought perhaps…”
“I’ll take it!” I yelled, unfolding the thick quilt from its hanger. It was a pale sea foam green, with a faint hint of blue detectable. Yellow roses wove through brown branches. How perfect! I pulled it wide to get the full impact of its beauty. How utterly…
“Aaaaaarrrrrrgggghhh!” I screeched, collapsing to the floor.
“Really, Miss, they’re so small you can hardly see them.” The young man backed away and swallowed nervously.
“Cheri, three tiny burgundy flowers, really…” Mother gave the man a reassuring smile.
“This is a pink store!” I declared in a voice of condemnation, starting for the door.
Stuttering quick apologies and appreciations, Mother left the salesman and strode after me. Opening the door, I glanced back and read the all-too-familiar Just-Wait-Until-We-Get-Into-The-Car look on her face.
As the little bell jingled in farewell, I glanced ruefully at the sign plastered to the window:
“Have a nice day!”
“Nice day” and shopping, I reflected darkly, are incompatible terms.
I’d love to hear your perspective!
What’s a fun or foolish (or both!) memory you have of spending time with your mother or a mother figure? How true do you find the old cliche “like mother, like daughter”?
Did you ever get to choose your bedspread?
I am marveling that your mom kept this for so long! and I am marveling that she did not cause you bodily harm! Great writing, even at such a young age. You are right, you should have been a writer!
Shopping itself is a dividing line between my daughter and I-she loves it and I only do it when necessary-but this summer while she was home from college (going back this weekend, big sigh of sadness) I offered to take her shopping rather than wait for her to ask, She was pleasantly surprised. That trip went well, but I am reminded of a shopping trip when she was much younger when it took two hours to find one shirt. Of course it had to be cute, but I was pretty strict about modesty. So, finding a modest but cute shirt was tough, but we did it. We both saw it at the same time and we both said “how about this one?” and the rest is credit card history.
great story, cheri. i used to like shopping… by myself. now i have to go shopping with my mom and sister for clothes for the kids. they are born shoppers, both of them. my sister always seems to find the good deals. of course that requires a lot of extra time in malls infested with… people. i like my computer and online shopping. mostly that means i stick things in the virtual cart and never buy them. my mother especially hated my style, it showed all over her face, and often it came out of her mouth. she has good taste, for her clothes, and often i point things out to her that have her ‘look’. my daughter decided she didn’t like pink and ruffles, ay that was a hard pill for me to swallow. i still cringe at the styles she chooses, but have been practicing saying ‘it’s so you’.
Chuckle…a born writer….such drama and hyperbole or did Cheri really fall to the floor? Actually, my Mother and I and even Daddy enjoyed shopping together. Do like pix as saw that look on my Mother’s face at other times. Thank you for the word picture and the actual picture.
Now THAT was funny! 🙂 If you EVER think you are not a good writer…are having a bad day….the self-doubt has you down…just reread THAT one! Fantastic….thank you!