STRANGE fits of fashion have I known:
And I will dare to tell,
But in the Shopper’s ear alone,
What once to me befell.

When shoes I loved looked every day
Fresh as a rose in June,
I to Barneys bent my way,
Beneath an evening-moon.

Upon a dress I fixed my eye,
With quickening pace my car drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.

And now we reached the department store;
And, as we climbed the stair,
The sale section beckoned from the door
with accessories for hair

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Half-off all boots today!
And all the while my eyes I kept
On lay-away plans to pay

My credit card moved on; swipe after swipe
It raised, and never stopped:
When down behind the register,
At once, my credit rating dropped.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a Shopper’s head!
“O mercy!” to myself I cried,
“If the Mastercard is dead!”


email: fashion[AT]wen-wen.net

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