Aimster Goes Sunglasses Shopping

My eyes are extremely sensitive to the sun. Had I been in the movie Men in Black, they probably would have blinded me with the flash from that memory erasing gadget and I could have sued for millions. Although I would have spent the rest of my life without sight, I would obviously have a lot of friends and suitors eager to exploit my riches. If I’ve learned anything from living in Los Angeles, it’s that this is a perfectly viable lifestyle.

Knowing that my eyes water with every sliver of the light penetrating my irises from space, you can imagine my discontent when I snatched up my sunglasses last week and one of the lenses popped out onto the floor of my car. The damage was irreparable. Tragedy had struck and the choice between constantly looking like I’ve been crying and dishing out the money for new shades was no choice at all.

My previous pair of sunglasses were by Michael Kors, but I only shelled out $25 for them due to the magic of Nordstrom Rack. They had been such a faithful companion for so many years that I came to the conclusion that it is worth investing in some nicely made sunglasses as opposed to the cheap ones that might be lying about how much UV protection you’re really getting. So after work on Friday, I headed over to the Beverly Connection, which for those of you who don’t live in LA is a gathering of discount stores across from the Beverly Center, the mall of the stars. So basically it’s like the rejects of what you find across the street.

My first stop was to the trusty Nordstrom Rack, where I tried on a slew of sunglasses only to find that my head is still of childlike proportions and most of them make me look like a bug on acid. Furthermore, every pair had a security tag about the size of my ear hanging from the bridge of the shades. I wasn’t sure how to judge my appearance in these sunglasses when my nose looked like Pinocchio gone plastic. And then I saw a pair that was the exact style I’d had in mind. So I tried them on. They fit well and looked good. Had I found the winning shades? I looked at what brand they were, and instantly felt a pit form in my stomach. They were Juicy Couture, and I began questioning everything I believed in. If I bought these sunglasses, would I suddenly find myself parading around in neon terrycloth sweatsuits, overly tanned and with hair dry as a desert from being overbleached? Would I go on to spend hours of my morning doing my make-up, only to leave the house and tell people that I hadn’t really put any effort into my appearance that day? Thus is the power of Juicy. Fear gripped my heart and I decided to check out the other stores.

First was Ross Dress for Less, of which one of my coworkers regularly sings the praises. This was a bust, as they only had about eight pairs, and three of them were the Jessica Simpson brand which I just could not bring myself to support.

Next I went to Marshalls, where a crowd of women were hawking the sunglasses turnstiles like they were actually discounts for liposuction. After battling through the insanity I managed to try on a few pairs and found two that I liked, one from Coach and one from some other brand that I don’t remember. The only thing about the Coach sunglasses was that they said the word “Coach” all over the sides, and I’m not really one for that sort of incessant branding. And then I looked at the price tag. They were $9.99. I couldn’t believe it. These must have been mislabeled. This was more of a steal than a tipsy and eager college girl’s virginity. But I still wasn’t sold because of all the branding, so I opted to put them on hold and go to one final store, just in case.

I ventured down the street to Loehmann’s and headed into their accessory section, full of promise. They had hundreds of pairs of sunglasses for the choosing, and I eagerly began shoving them on my face so aggressively it’s a wonder I didn’t poke my eye out. I was thinking about how great it is that these stores sell past seasons' designer duds for so cheap when the song “Save Tonight” by Eagle-Eye Cherry came on. I started to wonder if these stores are also a place for past seasons' songs. Hoping that they would next rock my world with a selection from the Backstreet Boys, I continued my search.

Instead of finding something awesome, I began to wonder if my head is misshapen, due to the penchant of every pair to look askew. I found one Jimmy Choo pair that was stellar, but they were still like $200. Seriously, the nerve of that guy. Even his discounted merchandise is an easily calculable percentage of my annual salary.

I walked back to the Beverly Connection whilst contemplating which was the lesser of two evils: sweatsuit-threatening Juicy or overly-labeled Coach. On my way into the complex I passed a Staples Copy and Print Center. What is a Staples doing amidst all these clothing stores? My best guess is that it’s there for actor wannabees at the Beverly Center who need to make copies of their headshots, just in case they run into someone important while pretending to be able to afford things on their waiter salaries.

At this point my decision was made: I just couldn’t beat the $10 deal on the Coach pair, so I went to the cashier at Marshalls and asked her to retrieve them. I was thinking about whether or not I wanted to pay with the twenty I had in my wallet or charge my debit card when the cashier gave me a $65.84 total. I was shocked and confused. I looked at the tag on the sunglasses, which read $59.99. I realized that I must have mixed up the prices for the obscure sunglasses brand and the Coach brand. Of course the non-designer brand is 10 bucks. Coach glasses would never go for that cheap. I withdraw the virginity comment.

I could have said, “Never mind, I misread the price,” and gone to Target to buy non-designer but probably just as durable sunglasses. But I was too tired. So I slid my debit card and walked out of Marshalls defeated and with sunglasses that say the word “Coach” more than I probably say any words in an entire day. Oh well. They don’t look half bad.