The fruitless search for pants
I am coming up on the end of my weekend, and much of it has been spent shopping for pants. My new job does not allow me to wear jeans, which naturally comprise most of the wardrobe that I packed for my stint in California, so I have had to embark on a mostly-unsuccessful search for fancy pants these past few days. The only pair I have located that fit so far are $100 from Banana Republic, so I am forcing myself to continue looking in the hope that I can find some cheaper models elsewhere.
Yesterday I started my search at two malls in Corte Madera. Corte Madera appears to be one of the ritzier Marin enclaves, and was stuffed to the gills with fit, fashionable people cavorting around in giant SUVs and pushing expensive imported baby carriages. I ate lunch at A.G. Ferrari, an Italian delicatessan that once again blew my mind for the sheer quantity of quality imported food. I had a Toscano panino, which is basically a salami sandwich with provolone on a ciabatta that has been spread with olive tapenade and then drenched in copious amounts of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I finished off with a couple of Italian candies, including some hazelnut nougat and a pear gummi thing that was pretty wonderful. I was thinking about how the scale of everything seems so elevated here. At home, at our fanciest mall, the food court usually sells things like corn dogs and Sbarro's. In Corte Madera, you can order prosciutto sandwiches, ham and brie baguettes, and pick up a nice bottle of wine for dinner before heading off to Ann Taylor and Illuminations. It's frequently intimidating to watch all these people cheerfully going about their daily business in one of the most expensive cost-of-living areas of the country. How can they all manage this lifestyle?
My state of gastronomical bliss was soon cut short by a trip to the Albertson's in Fairfax. Unlike Andronico's, Albertson's is just as shitty in California as it is at home. The limes are rotten, the fish is pale and flabby, and the aisles are filled with the same disgusting processed foods as they are in Illinois. There is something slightly reassuring about that, though. At least everybody is condemned to suffer the same indignities at the hands of corporate grocers across the nation; it's not like they're shipping all the most putrid produce out to their undiscerning, unsophisticated Midwestern customers.
Wish me luck on the Great Pants Hunt, round 2.
Yesterday I started my search at two malls in Corte Madera. Corte Madera appears to be one of the ritzier Marin enclaves, and was stuffed to the gills with fit, fashionable people cavorting around in giant SUVs and pushing expensive imported baby carriages. I ate lunch at A.G. Ferrari, an Italian delicatessan that once again blew my mind for the sheer quantity of quality imported food. I had a Toscano panino, which is basically a salami sandwich with provolone on a ciabatta that has been spread with olive tapenade and then drenched in copious amounts of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I finished off with a couple of Italian candies, including some hazelnut nougat and a pear gummi thing that was pretty wonderful. I was thinking about how the scale of everything seems so elevated here. At home, at our fanciest mall, the food court usually sells things like corn dogs and Sbarro's. In Corte Madera, you can order prosciutto sandwiches, ham and brie baguettes, and pick up a nice bottle of wine for dinner before heading off to Ann Taylor and Illuminations. It's frequently intimidating to watch all these people cheerfully going about their daily business in one of the most expensive cost-of-living areas of the country. How can they all manage this lifestyle?
My state of gastronomical bliss was soon cut short by a trip to the Albertson's in Fairfax. Unlike Andronico's, Albertson's is just as shitty in California as it is at home. The limes are rotten, the fish is pale and flabby, and the aisles are filled with the same disgusting processed foods as they are in Illinois. There is something slightly reassuring about that, though. At least everybody is condemned to suffer the same indignities at the hands of corporate grocers across the nation; it's not like they're shipping all the most putrid produce out to their undiscerning, unsophisticated Midwestern customers.
Wish me luck on the Great Pants Hunt, round 2.
posted by cindym at 10:40 AM
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