I'm just not a fan of huge crowds, lest it's the DSS or My Morning Jacket playing on a stage in front of me. Nor am I a fan of total disorganization, unless it's my closet (okay, fine. My house).
Route 123 is the DMZ for me, with the left side featuring Scary Tyson's, the right featuring Actual Tysons. Scary Tyson's because EVERY SINGLE TIME I've ever been there, it's the Perfect Storm, packed with heinous crowds of sketch people and nasty moms pushing their sneezing kid's stroller directly into my kneecaps no matter how far to the right I move and teens in horribly inappropriate clothing that make me just want to lecture them forming dense packs that you simply cannot walk around even though they're walking 0.000004 mph and lines at the register when you just want to buy one little thing and just stacks of messy crap in every store.*
I'll just pay the 30% markup and buy across the way. Thanks.
That is why, on the surface, H&M would be the bane of my total existence.
But I love to mix up a little throwaway with the rest of my wardrobe, so every now and again, I suck it up ("it" may or may not be a Xanax) and head on in.
While in NYC a few weeks ago with my Miami team, I was dragged into the H&M down by Rockefeller Plaza. There is no H&M in Miami, so our fabulous event be damned, H&M was the absolute highlight of our trip for them. It must be like when my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cavanaugh, went to Russia back in the Eighties (okay, Seventies) with a suitcase full of pantyhose to give out as gifts because they were such a rare luxury and the maids in hotels cried when they received them. Well, I guess like the horribly spoiled American version of that.
I got a couple of things for fall (as well as the orange star underwear, etc. for Aquaman), and then, while doing a lap on floor 4, a huge wall of bras caught my eye.
The perfect bra has always seemed like the unattainable for me, save for one beautifully crafted lavender lace concoction I bought in Paris a few years ago, whose maker was never to be found again.
Lacy is okay, but not delicate (eg., won't fall apart after one wearing). Fitted around the back without looking like a tourniquet. Little to no padding but not see through. Supportive without looking like an 18-Hour Bra from Playtex (I'm turning into my mother in enough other ways, which is Just Awesome. See "Teenagers, Incessant Need to Scold About Clothing Choices" from above).
Chantelle has come close, but they just don't support all that well, certainly not for $70 a pop (though I keep going back and shelling out my money like a cheated-on spouse thinking that this time, they'll do me right. Definitely this time. I just know it.).
But these, here at H&M, looked like they actually might be worth a shot. So into the 20-person long dressing room line I went.
Perfection. Absolutely, complete perfection. I couldn't even believe it. And SEVENTEEN DOLLARS.
Downside: I bought two colors, but didn't look to make sure the tag on the other one matched the sizing on the hanger, which of course it didn't, being H&M and crowded and chaotic and all.
But even at $34 (because I will always mean to, but will never, ever return it), still perfection. So if you're a fan of crowds and chaos (or even if you're not), definitely give them a try.
I'll be the one outside wagging her finger at some 14-year old in a belly shirt.
*Fine, the new wing is better. But it's still Scary Tyson's to me.