Bad Lighting Blues...

So these days, what with my impressive Pilates regimen, I've been thinking of myself as a bit of a Jessica Alba lookalike. From the neck down, of course.

Imagine my surprise when I slipped into the Nordstrom's dressing room and stood tall (relatively speaking) in front of the three-way mirrors in the flourescent light. I discovered several things. First, that I bear more resemblance to Alba from the neck up than from the neck down. Second, that high-end stores are still using circus-style fat mirrors. Third, that I will never ever install flourescent light in any of my residences.

But instead of thinking about this from my selfish perspective, I looked at the problem like the marketing major I am (fast) becoming. I mean, what kind of strategy is this? Women don't want to see what their clothes look like on them! They want to see what their clothes look like on other, hotter women. (One of the few similarities between the sexes.)

So when I got home, I took several steps. I put on my marketing hat. I tossed all the carbs and refined sugars in my fridge out the window. And I wrote down this plan:

1. The flourescent lights have got to go. What about artistic overhead track lights? Or even candlelight? The pioneers were on to something. Not only is it flattering and mysterious, it doesn't contribute to global warming! Al Gore could use a fitting room like this!

2. Why the white walls and plastic doors? This isn't a high school bathroom stall - we're not sneaking in here to smoke. I want a whole new decor, let's say green and yellow (a pre-prison Martha color scheme, shades that remind the viewer of vegetables and other foods that make her thin)

3. And why the silence, broken once in a while by some midwestern mother drawling to her teenage daughter next door ("Oh god, Allie, not another size 0. When are you going to grow some hips?") Why not play music...maybe old-school Marvin Gaye. Or, for those who don't want to hear a 50-year-old man lay his game down, what about Twista? Who cares if these jeans are, like, a 24?

4. Who looks in all those mirrors anyway? Believe me, if I wanted to stare at my own ass, I'd get a three-way mirror installed in my house. Replace the mirrors in high-end department stores with classy art. In lingerie stores? Opt for windows (with drapes for the milder-mannered shopper.) All those "adult costume" stores in Belmont? Try a life-size reproduction of the Italian soccer team's Dolce ad. Sales will skyrocket.

Of course, all this is just the beginning. I see a future where we don't have fitting rooms at all, but high-end "shopping lounges" where women pick a series of outfits for a model to try on, and then choose the outfits they like best. In fact, why stop at outfits? Dispense with those, too. Soon enough, every woman in America will see this when she walks into a department store.
"God," she'll think, "when did I get that tan?" And buy everything in sight.

It's not dishonesty. It's good business.