The Model and the Boomer

Posted on November 20, 2013



It has come to Life in the Boomer Lane’s attention that if she doesn’t write about boomers soon, she might as well change her blog to Life in the General Doo-Doo Lane. To avoid this, she has returned to Boomerdom. Here goes:

LBL loves shopping at Loehmanns. Aside from the discounts, it’s a store that exists for gown ups. No triple-digit decibel-level techie or hip hop music. No adolescent sales clerks walking around with headphones (and what is that about, anyway?) No multi-sex dressing rooms. No exterior locks on dressing room doors.

Yesterday, as LBL was enjoying her time at Loehmanns, she noticed two women on the other side of the store. They were visible because they appeared to be about eight feet tall. They were also young. And skinny. One had straight blond hair down to her waist. The other had a huge frizzed out dark halo of hair around her head. Models, for sure.

After noticing them, LBL wasn’t able to concentrate entirely on shopping. She kept noticing them as they walked around on their shoes, which with platforms and heels combined, added another 10 inches to their height. She wondered what models talked about when they shopped. Certainly not about having just gained another five lbs over the weekend. And, what with spending their lives in designer duds, why were they shopping at Loehmanns?

When LBL got in line, they got directly behind her. One noticed small packages on a display stand.

“Ah, neeple covers! I luff deese! Dey are so hart to fint!”

“Yes! I know! And dey are so great ven ve vare de leetle tee shirts vithout bras!”

LBL hadn’t noticed the boxes of pink silicone gel nipple covers, which were on the rack to the right. She had been looking to the left, where the jumbo gift boxes of chocolate pretzels were stacked up. Nipple covers, along with mustache wax, were not on LBL’s wish list for the holiday season.

LBL stood contemplating what life must be like, if nipple covers were required as part of one’s wardrobe, when she heard behind her,

“Oh, I luff dose pants! Dey are so cute!”

LBL looked around but saw no one except herself in the immediate vicinity. Craning her neck back as far as it would go, she looked up into the eyes of the 8’ tall blond (a confession: She was probably only about 6’ tall, with another 10” of shoe. Good enough for a professional basketball player, but not tall enough for Guinness).

LBL realized that the model was talking about the $16.99 pair of fleecy stretch pants, festooned with reindeer and snowflakes, that she was holding. The model went on and on about how adorable they would be with a long shirt (and presumably, with nipple covers). LBL countered with, “Oh, I bought them to sleep in.” Lest she appear to be unsophisticated, she added, “You are a model, right?” Her neck was starting to get a crick in it.

The model laughed. “Oh, I yoost to be a model, ven I vus younger, 15 or 16. I’m much too old now. I’m tirty.”

LBL asked her what she did now. The answer was that she was either a flight attendant on private planes or part of the cabin crew on privately chartered yachts. When she wasn’t sailing or flying or in Loehmanns buying nipple covers, she lived in Abu Dhabi.

LBL responded with the only thing she could possibly say to all of that. She drew herself up to her full 5’1″ height, pointed to the far end of the store, smiled and said “If you want the reindeer and snowflake leggings, they are over there.”