But what makes us go into a shop? Is it the goods sold inside, the prices red- tagged, the names on the labels, or none of the above? When it comes down to it, why do we put ourselves into positions where all we can think about doing is roller-skating from one store to the next with Gap bags on each arm?
Or, more relevant, why do we always seem to associate the holidays with shopping binges? Of course, we as Americans will forever flock to strip-malls around the holidays to pick up that standard electronic or funny toy, but on a psychiatric level I want to know why we shop where we shop.
The closest thing to a conclusion that I've come to is one of the most noticeably subliminal ones. It's something that we never pick up on, but we always notice no matter where we go and the more eccentric the better. It's one of those silly little things that puts a paycheck in someone's hand and a credit card bill in someone else's.
Store windows.
I watched on a few days ago as a slew of New York types working for various department stores fought to out-do the decorator before them when it comes to store window presentation. Macy's decided to physically illustrated some children's book about snowpeople, snowmen on merry-go-rounds with bow-ties and Norse hats filling up every single window on the building. Another department store in Vegas went for the "flashy fairy" look, decking out plastic mannequins with harlequin pearls and reflective materials galore. But, the most impressive in this large scale of roadside marketing, Neiman Marcus literally constructed robots, yes robots, to decorate a iron Christmas tree in their front window.
The funny thing about this kind of superfluous decorating is that it sells. The more crazy the front window, the better the impression it leaves on people. The better impression it leaves, the more dollars in the register at the end of the day. People aren't interested in simplicity; people want the kind of grandeur that you can't find in everyday life. People want something spectacular for their hundred and thirty dollars, and the Christmas season is just a convenient excuse to go all-out.
Store windows define personalities. Sure, amidst all this eccentricity in the shopping world you'll always find a hidden gem whose motto is a slow & steady "keep it simple." Instead of the fore-spoken kind of craziness when it comes to holiday decorating, you'll find polaroids strung up into wreaths and spindly trees woven from book pages. Windows represent us as shoppers and as people, and our choices as to where we want to spend our money depend on what we see when we walk by. While the Hollywood wannabes prefer the monochromatic color scheme of an H&M, bohemians will find comfort in the warm and simple tones of an Anthropologie. Hipsters flock to the black chandeliers of Urban Outfitters and those hopeless teenagers will forever find individuality in the cave-like entrance to Hot Topics around the country.
It's like an art form, this window decorating, with the goal not just to appeal aesthetically to the window shoppers of America, but also psychologically. These glass case decorators have a hard life, and must spend their days denouncing the paintbrush and instead picking up the neon signs. Or the recycled cans. Or the christmas lights.The best part about window decor is that it always reinvents the wheel, but the art form as a whole really doesn't see anything wrong with that. Because each time the final touches are made on that copy-cat window, you come out with something completely unique that will have an appeal to someone out there.
Every window says something different, and you don't need to know why you shop where you do. It's only when you finally do figure that out that you learn a little more about yourself.
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