Sweet Hoodie

I was walking down Newbury Street the other day and saw this woman walk past me wearing the coolest hoodie ever. It was red with a black leopard print. I ran back to her and asked her where she got it. She said Filene's Basement... in the women's section.

The question of course was whether I make that plunge into the women's section of the store. Was the hoodie worth it? Oh God, yes.

I casually made my way into the area, past the lingerie, and into the hoodies racks. A woman sales associate approached me, and asked me if I was shopping for my girlfriend. My girlfriend, yes, that's exactly who I'm shopping for. I told her I was fine, and pointed out the hoodie I wanted. What was her size? Size, oh, medium, of course.

But no, there is no medium for women. They have some convoluted sizing system, very feminine, if I must say. So I grabbed a 2, that sounded good. I took off my track coat, and put it on over my white and black striped Armani button-up shirt. I almost ripped it, and the sales associate almost shit her pants. Sorry, it's just my girlfriend and I are almost the same size. She seemed to understand, and gave another, a six. That one fit like a glove.

At that point I looked around me and saw a pair of jeans that would complete the outfit. I looked for another six. These, though would require a fitting room. I looked at the women's one, but decided I could take them to the men's section. The sales associate seemed upset at losing my sale when I told her I needed to shop for myself in the men's section, so I promised I'd come back to her. Of course, on the way there, I saw a pair of women's sneakers that would go perfect with the jeans and hoodie. The same lie that my girlfriend wore the same size sounded a little weirder, and that sales associate almost didn't let me try them on. But I did get a pair that fit, then proceeded to the men's fitting room to try on the jeans.

Of course I needed a pair of men's jeans to show the fitting room guy that I was trying on some guys's stuff, while I tried on the stuff for my girlfriend. Shit, they didn't fit. I needed a different size. Maybe a 7 or an 8. Of course, the girlfriend story wouldn't wash if I put those back then picked up another size, so I bought the jeans anyway with the shoes and the hoodie, with the plan to return them the next day saying they didn't fit my girlfriend.

I took Mads, my Norwegian companion, the next day, returned the jeans, picked out another size, and those did fit. Of course, in order to make it to the men's fitting room this time, I told her Mads needed something, and was going to buy him a new pair of jeans to make the story wash. The whole thing was shot, though, when Mads saw a blouse that he really liked.