Shopaholic to the Stars

Once Danny starts talking about life-changing experiences, it’s hard to cut him off. I’ll give him twenty minutes to talk about Greenland, I decide. Maybe twenty-five. And then I must go and buy my trainers.

OK, I officially have the coolest running shoes in the world. They’re silver with orange stripes and they have gel bits and mesh bits and I want to wear them all day long.

This sports shop is incredible! You don’t just buy a pair of trainers here. You don’t just put them on and walk around and say, I’ll take them, and then throw six pairs of sports socks into your basket as well because they’re on sale. Oh no. It’s all very technical. You do a special running test on a treadmill, and they take a video and tell you all about your “gait” and find the perfect solution for your athletic needs.

Why don’t they do this at Jimmy Choo? They should have a little catwalk where you’d walk along to cool music and maybe strobe lighting, and they’d take a video. And then the expert would say, We feel the black-and-white stiletto perfectly suits your awesome supermodel gait. And then you’d take the video home to show all your friends. I am so suggesting it next time I’m in there.

“So here’s the heart monitor I was telling you about.…” The sales assistant, Kai, reappears, holding a little metal and rubber bracelet. “Like I said, it’s our most discreet model, new to the market. I’m excited to hear your opinion.”

“Cool!” I beam at him and put it on my wrist.

Kai has asked if I’d like to join in a customer study of this new heart monitor, and why not? The only sticky moment was when he asked what heart monitor I was using currently and I didn’t like to say “none,” so I said “the Curve” and then realized that’s Luke’s new BlackBerry.

“Would you like some more coconut water before you start?”

More coconut water. That’s so L.A. Everything in this shop is so L.A. Kai himself is ripped and tanned and has exactly the optimum amount of stubble, and bright turquoise eyes, which I’m sure are lenses. He looks so like Jared Leto that I wonder whether he went to a surgeon with a picture torn out of Us Weekly and said, This one, please.

He’s already dropped into conversation that: 1. He’s modeled for Sports Illustrated. 2. He’s working on a script about a sportswear consultant who becomes a movie star. 3. He won Ohio’s Best Pecs three years running and has had his pecs specially insured. He asked me within about thirty seconds whether I worked in the film industry, and when I said no, but my husband did, he gave me a card and said, “I’d love to meet with him to discuss a venture he might be interested in.” The idea of Kai and Luke sitting at a table discussing his pecs nearly made me snort out my coconut water.

“So if you’ll kindly step up here.” Kai ushers me onto the treadmill. “I’ll be taking a record of your heart rate, so we’ll raise it with some aerobic activity and then lower it with rest periods. Just follow the treadmill and you’ll be fine.”

“Great!” As I step up, I notice a massive rack of exercise clothes being wheeled onto the shop floor by two sales assistants. Wow. They look amazing—all different shades of purples and grays, with abstract logos and really interesting shapes.

“What’s that?” I ask Kai as the treadmill starts to move gently along.

“Oh.” He looks at it without interest. “That’s from our clearance fashion floor.”

Clearance fashion floor? No one mentioned a clearance fashion floor. Why didn’t I know about the clearance fashion floor?

“Weird.” He peers at his computer screen. “Your heart rate just spiked, and we didn’t even start the intense activity yet. Oh well.” He shrugs. “Let’s get going.”

The treadmill starts to move along more briskly, and I up my walking pace to match. But I’m distracted by the rack of clothes, because an assistant is putting sale signs on every garment! I spot a 90% OFF sign and crane my neck to see what it’s attached to. Is that a T-shirt? Or a minidress? Or—

Oh my God, look at that cardigan. I can’t help gasping aloud. That is stunning. It’s longline, in what seems to be gray cashmere, with an oversize neon-pink zipper, all the way up the front and the back. It’s gorgeous.

“So now we’ll rest for a moment.…” Kai is concentrating on his screen. “You’re doing great so far.”

The treadmill slows, but I barely notice. I’m feeling stabs of alarm. A pair of passing girls has seen the rail and fallen on it in delight. I can hear them exclaiming with glee, showing clothes to each other and dumping them in their baskets. They’re taking everything! I don’t believe it. The sale of the century is going on ten yards away, and I’m stuck on this stupid treadmill. As long as they don’t see the cardigan. I will them silently: Don’t look at the cardigan.… ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">