The following letters are mental ones that I wrote when shopping today. They are based on actual events.
Dear Small, Cute, Quaint Boutique,
Your place is darling; really it is so cute. I tried a few pieces on when I came in today! Your inventory looks good. It looks so good that I have questions; I want to know what you love in your store. I want to know what you think looks fabulous. The girls that you pay to run the store may be confused by what the purpose of a business is, though.
I think today when I came into your store, the girls thought that my jorts and summertime hair looked dumpy. I think they maybe thought it was fine to then disregard my presence in your store. It’s really too bad, because I wanted to buy a leather jacket and maybe some earrings. But these girls, while sitting on the floor in the middle of your boutique unpacking a shipment, didn’t seem too concerned about making money. It must have been the jorts, they really are too big. Coulda used a new pair, but alas, I don’t know where they were placed in your store. I probably won’t come back. You looked so good boutique, you looked so darn good.
Dear Other Small, Cute, Quaint Boutique,
Thanks for drying my boutique tears today. My eyes were clouded with jort-pandemonium and my need for a new dress for fall, and you dried them with a nice silk top from Joie. That top may now need dry-cleaning, but hey, so did I. Why did that girl at the first boutique sit on the floor (yes, THE FLOOR), while I struggled to look for Vanessa Mooney earrings? Was it my outfit? I smiled when I came in and said hello, so hopefully she doesn’t have a weird aversion to friendliness. I’m a pretty fashionable girl and laid back, so I really appreciated the way you and your coworker just hung out with me and my friends while we perused the racks.
Those girls that run your store know what’s up. They walked with me around your store and pointed out the tees that they are rocking all summer long. They showed me those earrings I was wanting so fast, without hesitation. No one even thought about sitting on the floor. There was no strike one, two, or three. There was only one, fashionable, homerun. Maybe I’m in retail love?
Congrats, other boutique; you have my heart & therefore, you have my wallet.