Becoming The Muse

There are people who love window shopping. I am not one of them. Frankly, I find it a little stressful navigating the shops and the various temperaments of the shop assistants.

The first one clocks you the second you walk in. You haven’t even looked at anything yet, and they’re already hovering over you like a very attentive ghost, trailing behind you and asking if they can be of service. As soon as you reach for something. “That’s only $10, lovely colour that, we’ve got it in three others.” You haven’t asked anything; you were just touching the fabric to feel its texture.

You nod, as if you asked.

You pick up something else, a coffee mug.

“Those are on sale, and we can personalise them for you.” They quickly interject. I know, I want to say, I can read the tag. But you smile politely, and they take it as an invitation to point out all the new merchandise that you might like.

I’m just looking,” you say. But even that sounds like a promise of commitment and you feel guilty at leading them on that a purchase is imminent. So you make up some flimsy excuse about having to leave and enquire what time they close or if they open tomorrow, knowing full well you arent likely to return.

Then you wander into the next shop and it’s the total opposite. The 2 visible staffers are busy discussing a viral social media video. You could put your hands up in the air and wave them like you don’t care and neither of them would look up. The items don’t have prices displayed. You stand there holding up something like a prop, waiting for eye contact that never comes, and eventually you just put it back and leave.

But the real killer is simply the part where you walk out of a shop, any shop, doesn’t matter which kind, having bought absolutely nothing, and your brain decides to remind you that you look like a suspect.

Highly suspicious.

So now you’re trying to act naturally. Do not walk quickly thats suspicious, too slow thats guilty. Face neutral and hands visible. You didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t steal anything and yet every fibre of your being is screaming act natural.

And just by the door, there’s a step. That unnecessarily dramatic step you have to hop over. Apparently, it’s there so if you’ve hidden something between your legs, it falls out.