Everything Must Go: Part 3

We had some friends from California (Julie and Darren) visiting over the weekend, so of course one of the afternoons included some driving and shopping. The new Victory Park development area right outside our doorsteop is now pretty much D.O.A., so we took them to Highland Park Village since the day was sunny and beautiful and perfect for strolling.

Lots of sales still going on, but by now the sale merchandise has been well handled and picked over. I dragged (well, I didn't really have to "drag") Julie into the Jimmy Choo boutique, where the entire wall by the cash register area has been converted to half-price shoes and bags.

I don't know about you, but there's something sad about a $15,000.00 crocodile clutch tossed onto a half-price rack -- well, sad and sort of hysterically funny. I mean, dropping a clutch from fifteen thousand to seven and a half thousand doesn't really change the consumer demographic, which means it's still not going to sell.

It's like putting a house on the market for $45 million, then dropping the price by three million dollars after nine months of no offers and little interest. Sorry, but you haven't opened up a whole new consumer target at $42 million. Same with the Jimmy Choo clutch. Anyone who can afford to shell out $7,500.00 for a single clutch could have easily shelled out $15,000.00 if they really wanted the darn thing. Everyone else will still look at the $7,500.00 price tag and think, "That's 50% off? What, are they smoking crack?"

But we did snag an awesome pair of sunglasses that looked fantastic on Julie. Full price, but it was the only item in the place that genuinely appealed. And is it just me, or has the Jimmy Choo brand taken a trashy left turn of late? I remember a couple of years back that their shoes and bags were definitely stylin' and very fashion forward in a sleek, almost Christian Louboutin kind of way . . . now it seems like a store full of accessories for high-priced hookers, with lots of studded, shiny animal skins full of zippers and bling-laden bags and sales reps that tell customers how "fabulous" a pair of shoes look when it's obvious they don't even fit properly.

Don't get me wrong, animal skins can be done properly (see below) but the Choo way seems to be all about how much shiny metal can be screwed and/or bolted into the hides. No wonder they have a pile of 50% off items still cluttering the store.

We also stopped by the Scoop NYC store, and where it used to be the little boutique full of hip-hip-hipness (Matthew Williamson, Marc Jacobs, Anya Hindmarch, Michael Kors, Missoni), it's now the little boutique with not a whole lot on the racks and a decidedly down-market price-point. No more Matthew Williamson and Anya Hindmarch, while Marc Jacobs, Michael Kors and Missoni have all been replaced by their cheaper diffusion line counterparts: Marc by Marc Jacobs, Kors by Michael Kors and M Missoni.

An entire wall that used to be full of stiletto-heeled pumps and glittering clutches now hosts shampoo bottles and socks, and the sales clerks seemed completely demoralized by the whole process, as if fully aware that they fell from grace and are no longer The Cool Girls Who Work At That Happening "IT" Boutique but are, instead, The Poor Things Who Are LIkely To Be Soon Out Of A Job.

Hip-hip-hipness . . . at 75% off!

We walked past the Ralph Lauren store, and while there were big "SALE" signs in the windows, the curtains were all drawn, giving the place a Going Out of Business vibe. I don't know if it's actually going out of business, but when a store has no merchandise in the display windows and the curtains are all drawn on a sunny Saturday afternoon, it doesn't inspire confidence for their future.

I think the retail high-point of the weekend was when Darren presented Julie with an Oscar de la Renta Python Doheny clutch he had shipped here to Dallas ahead of their arrival. Retailers aren't allowed to sell reptile skin merchandise in California, and etailers aren't allowed to deliver reptile-skin merchandise to California addresses (yeah, I know, it's stupid, and it only hurts California retailers when consumers are forced to go out of state to buy the stuff).

Julie's all about keeping a lid on the sentiment factor, so it was fascinating to watch her fight to keep her poker face in place as she unwrapped the tissue paper and caught a glimpse of the supple glory that lay nestled within.

True love can be measured 14"W x 7.5"H x 2"D.

I saw someone's heart melt right in front of my eyes.

OFF TOPIC PHOTOS:

A few reshoots of the Amouage Homage bottle. I had Julie put some of this on an hour or so before they left for the airport to return home. When I hugged her goodbye, she smelled stunningly beautiful: