Johanna R.
Yelp
My daughter and I, for years now, have made an annual trek to downtown San Francisco as part of our Christmas tradition. Leisurely perusing the glamorous gowns and dreamy scents of Saks has always been a part of this trip. Over the years we've swooned over Tom Ford perfumes and imagined other, more faraway lives as sequins and silk dazzled us out of the dailiness of schoolwork, or box lunches, or cleaning house. Saks was a destination.
That place, those days--are sadly over. We arrived at Saks today to find ourselves standing in front of a curtained lobby, with a curt "greeter" standing at a computer kiosk, asking if we had an appointment.
To enter a store? What?
We said, no, we didn't have one, but they took our names and let us in anyway. Much to our surprise, and later irritation, we were followed by what I can only think now was some kind of attendant. As my daughter and I slowly moved from perfume to perfume, the attendant followed us and repeatedly asked us what we wanted to buy, what we're looking for, what brands we liked, and after multiple interactions in which I politely said, "We're not interested," I turned to her and said "We are fine. We'd like to look at things together if you don't mind."
But she wouldn't leave us. She kept a little more distance from us, but the hovering continued. We walked to the coat rack. She watched from the corner. We admired the purses. She side-eyed our hands. We touched a dress. She stifled a gasp.
It was clear she was not going to allow us to be in the store without her presence. The odd intrusion of an unwanted attendant deflated the sense of wonder. (I imagine it must have been awkward for her, too.)
Thus ended our visit, not with a bang or whimper, but with the resolute *whoosh* of upscale glass doors as we exited into the drizzle of a winter afternoon. I don't understand what Saks hopes to accomplish with this policy- but it left me bewildered, annoyed, and, finally, defiant.
I'll take my unapologetically working class roots elsewhere from now on.