FRIENDS, many of you know that I’m married, and not to just any person, but to The Duchess, a formidable woman who can bench press me and whose mastery of Retail Science is unparalleled. What she sees in me will forever be a mystery, and I am a lucky man to have her. That doesn’t mean being married to The Duchess is all gravy, though; there’s a cost. A bitter cost largely measured out in hours spent following her around various stores while she shops.
England Expects that Every Man Will Do His Duty
Why The Duchess wants me there when she shops is another mystery, frankly, as I am a sullen and unenthusiastic shopper, and also quite ignorant of the ways of fashion. I can only assume that the strange and unexpected affection she has for me overpowers her common sense, leading me to accompanying her to places where one is expected to understand the difference between boot cut things and skinny things, places where more than seven colors are acknowledged to exist.
My role when accompanying The Duchess on these trips is mainly to follow her around. There is an art to this.
The art largely involves maintaining a suitably aloof and bemused expression—note, bemused, not amused, as the former implies I am a willing participant in this madness while the latter implies that I will be severely beaten by an unamused wife when I get home—and endurance. You have to be in good shape when you follow The Duchess around, because it’s a marathon, not a sprint. And there are no complimentary cocktails or snacks, usually. Although, sometimes, in particularly ritzy stores.
This can, but does not have to, also involve striking poses as you stand around attempting to look like this is totally how you always intended to spend this particular afternoon, as if decades ago you pulled out your Book of Intentions and penned in that day for ‘following my beloved around like a vagrant who hopes to get a dollar from her just to go away.’ There are a lot of mirrors in these shops, and I find myself to be very attractive, and so adopting the poses I imagine Very Attractive Men of Mystery use in their daily lives makes me feel like maybe I’m generating buzz among the shop employees, maybe they’re going into the back and chatting about this really cool man of mystery who’s entered the store standing like a superhero, possibly intending to purchase every item in the place with his credit card that’s so advanced it’s not black or platinum but rather invisible.
The Chores
Once you’ve got the art side of shopping with the Duchess down cold, there are some basic duties that come with the position:
1. Picking up The Duchess’ things. The Duchess, in an excess of excitement, often drops whatever she is carrying and/or wearing as she rushes to the sales rack, and it is my sacred duty to pick up her jacket, sweater, wallet, keys, shoes, and anything else that has exploded off of her in a burst of kinetic shopping energy.
2. Making Small Talk. The shop staff will be barely tolerated and acknowledged by The Duchess, who knows more about their products than they do. As she races about, I form a sad fellowship with these people and make conversation to reassure them that despite being completely ignored by my wife, they do in fact exist.
3. Paying. This is not because I am a man, or because I have all the money. In fact, The Duchess outearns me by a significant amount. But The Duchess has little time for the details of shopping, and once she has decided on, say, a rust-orange turtleneck, size medium, marked 40% off with an additional 25% off coupon applied, she is off to the next shop, leaving me to fumble out the credit card and make more awkward conversation with the staff.
Like I said: Not all gravy. This line of work isn’t for everyone—especially the posing.