Though I don’t hang out at Wal-Mart, I do shop there. And I’ve noticed something interesting about Wal-Mart that, before now, I haven’t had the opportunity to share.
I was raised in a small town (about 10K) in Kansas. We had a Wal-Mart. (When I was quite young, we also had a TG&Y which later became an Alco, but that’s beside the point.) Anyway, we were poor, which meant that any new clothes we got came from Wal-Mart. That, to put it lightly, was awful. The clothes were absolutely horrible, at least to someone my age.
Then, when I was 20, I moved to Kansas City. I slowly began to realize that it was entirely possible to walk into a Wal-Mart and walk out with a cute, fashionable outfit, all while wheeling your cart unencumbered through the aisles. Not Prada, no, not even the Gap, but still–something you could walk around in without feeling freaky. Finally, I thought, Wal-Mart is coming around.
Then, about five years ago when my sister got married, I went back to the ol’ hometown for the wedding. Somehow, I ended up needing a pair of shoes and a skirt (not for the wedding itself, for a dinner or something), so off we headed to Wal-Mart.
It was badly layed out, inefficient, and inconvenient. AND the clothes and shoes available for sale were atrocious. I can’t really say that they were out of style, because I’m fairly sure they’d never actually been in style.
My point here is that the Wal-Mart experience can differ widely from small town to larger metro area, and from Wal-Mart to Wal-Mart.
*Thanks, BTW, for the terminology, Guin. I’ve often wished I had a name for the death-defying Rave-frozen vertical pouf of bangs that we all wore back then.