The only time I ever get in Old Navy is when I’m with Leah. Something about that store makes me uneasy.
As I was standing near a table full of zip-front fleece jackets today at noon, I happened to look at the care tag on one of them. Made in Nepal. Nepal? I pictured warehouses full of Sherpas sitting at sewing machines.
And speaking of mountains…. As long as I was mentally wandering off to the far reaches of the world, I started extrapolating from the piles and piles of clothes in this one store in Iowa City to the piles and piles of clothes in all the Old Navy stores all over the world. Just the thought of it started to depress me.
So it wasn’t the flashing lights, crowded aisles, or blaring pop that was triggering my fight-or-flight instinct. It was all these clothes. All the excess. All these mountains of nothing made by people I’ve never met in a place I’ve never been. I’m aware that most of the goods around me come from similar circumstances, but it’s different to be standing there in the middle of all of it. Surrounded by it. Cornered. Trapped.
I’m a bad consumer. I admit it. And the mall is no place for a bad consumer this time of year.