In which we go to the Soldes

Soldes are sales. Big, nationwide ones that seem to include virtually every shop in country, though some more thoroughly than others. For example, many clothing stores have 90 percent of their inventory at anywhere from 20 to 80 percent off, but the toy pickings at the Galaries Lafayette were pretty slim, unless you wanted to pay full price or buy floor models. They happen twice a year, once in January and once in July, and last for somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 weeks. (Some stores end sooner than that, others stretch things out even longer. In July, we didn't do any shopping, primarily because we were still figuring out how we were going to live on half a month's paycheck for 6 weeks, and didn't feel that we had any excess money lying around.)

The January soldes started on Epiphany. Blaise started nagging me to go use my birthday money two days later (something about my ripped jeans not looking good), but I didn't want to take Cherry clothes shopping with me, and I really feel like if I don't make maximally good use of the time that she's at school then I don't get done any of the things that need to happen in the course of the day. Going to the mall didn't count.

Finally he convinced me to take the kids to get new outfits on Wednesday, by observing that virtually all of Ezio's pants had ripped knees. So Wednesday afternoon I headed to the mall (which is all of a 5 minute walk from our apartment) with all three kids to buy clothes. In addition to the Auchan, which sells clothes in all sizes, there are two children's clothing stores in the mall: Okaidi and Z. We headed into the former (the latter sells clothes up to a size 14, but 80 percent of the store is baby sizes), and started looking through the racks. I had agreed to buy one outfit for each kid. Ezio was first, and we started off by looking for pants. There seemed to be vast number of them in size 6 (too small), size 8 (too big), and every other size not in between them. (Does this happen to anyone else?) Finally we found a pair of jeans in a size 7, which Ezio deemed acceptable, and which had an adjustable waist, a necessity. Next we needed a shirt, which was not much easier. He didn't want a plaid button down, and we eventually ended up with red and white stripes.

We went to the other side of the store, clothes in hand, to look for something for the girls. I directed Sapphire to the 10-12 rack, and took Cherry over to look at the size 4s. Cherry and I picked out a pink ribbed turtleneck right away, and then we spent a long time trying to find something to go with it. Almost everything we saw and liked was either a size 3, or a size 5 (sound familiar?) or wouldn't go at all. Eventually I found a pair of black leggings in a size 4. Meanwhile, Sapphire had found a very pretty floral bubble skirt, that was unfortunately only available in a size 10. When we bought school clothes in the late summer, Sapphire had been unable to wear a 10 because it was just too tight in the waist, so I was not feeling particularly optimistic about the skirt, but decided to let her try it on anyway. We found a shirt to match (which was, incidentally, identical to the one we picked out for Cherry), and we all headed back to the dressing rooms. After a long wait to try things on (only one large dressing room) we made it to the front of the line and into the dressing room. Cherry promptly stripped to her skin, and had to be told to put her underpants back on. Her clothes fit. Ezio's fit, or at least would fit once we properly adjusted the waist of his jeans. And, much to my amazement, Sapphire's clothes fit. In fact, she could get the skirt on without even unzipping it the whole way. Evidently all the walking she's had to do here has caused her to slim down considerably, which isn't a bad thing.

The whole experience was such a success, that I decided that I would go back Thursday morning while Cherry was at school and find clothes for myself, and I would work on editing that evening so that I didn't have to feel guilty about not putting in my hour while Cherry was away. Since this is really the first time that I've gone clothes shopping for myself in Paris (and grown up sizing isn't done by age anymore), I started out by using the 'net to figure out what size I ought to wear in French clothing, based on my size in American clothing. Easy enough, just add 30 to the number, so if you wear an 8 American, you wear a 38 European. If you wear a 14 American, you wear a 44 European.

My first order of business was to buy shoes. I found 3 pairs I liked, tried my size, decided that black pair slipped to much in the heel, picked a pair of brown leather lace up shoes, and was out of the store in 15 minutes. So far, so good. Now for clothes. Store number one: I find 3 pairs of pants in my size that I like, and spend some time picking out coordinating tops, since there's not much point in buying pants that you can't wear anything with. The dressing room limit is 5 items, but no-one is checking, so I bring in all six. And I can't get the pants over my butt. Store number two: Nothing really strikes my fancy. Store number three: ditto. Store number four: Again, I find 3 pairs of pants, this time one size bigger, and don't bother with coordinating tops. I'll worry about that if the pants fit. This time, I can get them over my butt, but I can't button them. And they appear to have 3 inch rises. I think even Cherry's butt crack would be showing. Stores numbers five, six, and seven: nothing. Store number eight; I find a pair of jeans that is yet a size bigger, and bring them back. They still don't fit. By this point it's 11:50, and I need to go get Cherry.

That evening, Sapphire and I go to the Auchan to buy an ice cream bûche de Noël, which is half off. On the way, I grab pants in several sizes and try them all on in the dressing room, just to try to figure out what size I wear. Conclusion, I need something 2-3 sizes bigger than I thought I did, depending on the style.

Friday morning I run around frantically until 10:30, trying to get 2 mornings worth of work done in an hour and a half, then head back to the mall, armed with more information about sizing. Back to my first store from Thursday, where I was at least able to find things that I liked, even if I was looking at the wrong size. This time I pick 5 pairs of pants in 2 different sizes and head for the dressing room. (There's someone checking to make sure you don't bring too much back this time. Do they do this to try to keep one person from hogging the dressing room? There were several "rooms," and I only saw about half of them being used. I really don't think it would have been the end of the world if I'd taken 6 pairs of pants back.) One pair of pants fit relatively well, two were too big, and two suffered from "wanna see my butt crack?" syndrome. But I did notice that there were tags on them showing how high the rise was supposed to be, and that one of the pairs of jeans that was too big were low, rather than ultra-low, rise. (Honestly, I'm relatively high waisted, and would prefer something even higher than that, but, I digress.) Back to dig through the piles of jeans and look for one that was higher waisted and in my size. Then off to find some tops to go with. One more trip to the dressing room to try on tops and the new pair of jeans. They fit fortunately, since it was nearly time to go get Cherry again. Then to the check out, and home.