My boyfriend is a fashionisto and loves to check out the new items at Bergdorf Goodman from time to time. I accompanied him on this particularly gay hobby of his yesterday and overheard the most interesting conversation. A slightly pudgy short man (latino or mexican) was looking through leather belts marked "50% off," dressed in clothes fit for a beggar. His dirty worn cap and sneakers looked like Nike merchandise from the 80's (don't get me wrong; trends from the 80's are coming back now, but his stuff looked like they had been worn every single day from 1980 - 2010.) The Bergdorf's salesman, however, had on an impeccable, navy, 3-piece suit with cuff links that'd make both Diddy and Donald Trump proud, and a pair of sepia-colored loafers with a matching belt. Their interaction went something like this:
Latino Man (in a heavy accent, holding a belt): What kind of shoes you think would go with this belt?
Salesman (in a humored, slightly degrading tone): Well, it's a black belt so black shoes would go with it.
Latino Man: So, black shoes with this belt?
Salesman: Yes, I mean, you wear a black belt, you have to get black shoes. If you wear a brown belt, brown shoes. The shoes should match the belt.
Latino Man: So, it wouldn't matter if the shoes were Gucci? What if they were Gucci?
Salesman: What do you mean? It doesn't matter where they're from, as long as they complement each other.
Latino Man: I asked a simple question; just because I'm dressed like this today, don't assume I can't dress or don't know a thing or two about clothes.
Salesman: I'm sure you do sir; you asked me what shoes went with that belt so I was just saying that the shoes need to match the belt in color.
Latino Man (walking away): You'll see, I'll show you. I got better shoes than yours- don't worry.
Salesman: I'm sure you do, have a good day. (looks at a fellow salesman and smirks)
I was appalled! The same salesman was as kind as can be to my boyfriend (who was dressed to the nine's) a minute earlier but did a complete 360 when engaging with this man.
I haven't really had any horror stories with rude salespeople personally (except for this one time when a saleswoman at David Yurman at Saks wouldn't show me the rings I wanted to see with the quickness--but that might've been because I was badgering her when she was trying to lock everything up to close, whoops) so I was disgusted to witness the belittling way this particularly greased-up salesman treated his customer. 50% off belt or not, run-down Nike gear or not, that is absolutely no way to talk to a paying customer! I don't care if you work at Bergdorf's or Kmart, you do not speak to someone like that when you are in a position of service! How rude! Salespeople at Bergdorf Goodman, Saks Fifth Avenue, even Bloomingdale's sometimes, can be picky about whom they serve and how they serve them and while I understand why they practice their trade in this fashion, the upper echelons of management at these major shopping institutions need to train their employees to treat all customers as one and the same.
As much as I am furious and ranting about this particular incident, I am guilty of the same sort of judgment. Today, I walked past the Four Seasons hotel near my office and saw an overweight, unkempt, African-American woman standing by the doorway, dressed in a Hane's t-shirt and brown sweats carrying both a Balenciaga Giant Weekender bag and a Momogrammed Goyard tote. I had to do a double-take because the woman just wasn't the type of person I'd seen get into the likes of some of the world's most expensive cars (Maybachs, Mercedes-Benz's, Bentleys, etc.) at the back entrance of the Four Seasons. Just when I was kicking myself in the arse for being so judgmental upon appearance, a sassy lady with highlights in her hair, wearing a bright floral dress, Chanel flats, and a straw sombrero like the ones you see the Housewives of NY wear to the Derby, sashayed her way out onto the street from inside the hotel. The African-American woman followed suit and loaded the bags into the trunk of a limo as the straw sombrero lady got into the backseat of the car. I had to wonder at the horribly cliche situation. Of COURSE she was someone's personal assistant. The situation proved my biases and judgment right. I didn't feel good about it.
Going through experiences like these back-to-back really made me think. In a city that thrives on the love of labels and judges based on appearance, it's easy to feel small, unimportant, and ugly. When you're not an attractive leggy blonde with a Cartier watch on your wrist, it's even easier. In a city as diverse as mine, minorities still have to try harder to stand out and command the respect we are due. Don't believe me? Take a bunch of Asians to a club in the Meatpacking District (without having to spend thousands); now, watch the group of overly made-up, yappy, "hot," white girls get into the club hours before the Asians do (mind you, they may never get in). Or take a couple of Hispanic women to Saks and see if they receive the same treatment when they are dressed down with no flashy baubles in sight, as when they are dressed-up carrying Birkins.
Is my lengthly point hitting home at all? Man.
The most frustrating thing is that while experiencing this and ranting about wanting to rebel against the system, wanting to just be like EFF YOU, I WEAR/DO WHAT I WANT AND YOU WILL STILL TREAT ME EQUALLY, I will still don my most expensive pieces of clothing and accessories when I know I'm going to a place where I will be judged based on appearance.
Perhaps it is because I do a lot of judging myself, that I feel so judged.
Cheers,
Cheryl
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