Alright folks, let me break down that Hermes run in SF. Got slapped in the face by reality the second I walked up.
The Grand Entrance (& Instant Freeze-Out)
Pushed open that heavy glass door feeling kinda hopeful, ya know? Shiny floors, quiet like a library. Three staff huddled near a Birkin display, chatting real low. Figured they’d glance up, maybe nod. Nah. Got the full “stare through your head” treatment. Like I was a ghost. Stood there feeling dumb for a good minute before someone detached themselves.
This dude approaches, gives me the up-down. No smile, nothing. Just “Can I help you?” in that flat voice. Already knew I wasn’t their VIP of the week.
The Scarf Gambit (Because Desperation)
Learned long ago: don’t blurt out “BAG!” like a moron. Started smooth. “Just browsing some scarves today, maybe a belt?” His face stayed stone. Guided me to the scarves. Tried making small talk – “Busy day?” Got a grunt. Tried pointing at a Twilly I kinda liked. “That’s cashmere-silk blend.” Wow. Revolutionary. Thanks, pal.
Felt the pressure. Bought the damn Twilly. Price hurt. Figured, okay, investment for goodwill? Put it in their fancy little bag, feeling like a sucker.
Shooting My Shot (The Comical Denial)
Heart pounding a bit. Casually leaned on the jewelry case. “So… heard you folks sometimes have… other pieces? Like bags? Maybe small ones?” Watched his eyes glaze over instantly.
“We prioritize our established clients.” Said it like reciting the weather. “Current demand is very high.” Translation: You ain’t nobody, and that Twilly ain’t your ticket.
Tried a Hail Mary. “Totally understand! Any chance to put my name down? Want something classic!” Saw the pity flash behind his eyes. “Our wishlist is currently closed. We suggest developing a purchase history first.” Yeah, buddy. With what money? Just bought your plastic surgery fund scarf.
The Walking Away (Tail Between Legs)
Thanked him. Sounded weak even to me. Carried my stupidly expensive tiny bag out. Felt everyone’s eyes on my back. Pretty sure that huddle by the Birkin snickered. Walked right past Union Square tourists clutching giant shopping bags. They looked happier buying keychains.
So, the ‘expert help’? Masterclass in making you feel small. ‘Services’? Mostly saying ‘no’ politely. The real strategy? Become so rich you walk in smelling like money. Or marry someone who did.
Wore the Twilly once. Too angry every time I see it. Still no bag. They probably forgot my name the second I hit the sidewalk.
