Open sesame, dahling

A_
Originally uploaded by _youcandomath.

Lex's mum has been staying with us for a few days and we went out on Saturday morning for a late breakfast at a very cute little eatery called Minnie's. True to its name, everything at the diner is in miniature - bite size little snacks, teensy bottles of beer and soda, all served by little people. Okay that last bit wasn't true.

But after a wonderful brunch, the girls went off to see a musical performance, and I took myself off home. But rather than jumping on the bus straight away, I thought I'd walk a few blocks past some cute boutiques and eclectic stores along Halsted.

That street is a virtual treasure trove of one-offs and designer stores. I was in consumer heaven! I bought some bargain earrings at the first store I visited, and wanted to buy a whole lot more, but I exercised restraint - phew.

Finally found some flat brown boots to wear with my winter skirts at the next store I visited. I originally thought it was a 'grandma' store, cause the boots all look like Homeyped shoes but hey, they're comfortable and they were on sale and they were exactly what I wanted. So , cha-ching, I bought those too.

Wandering a little further down I entered Bebe, which retails back in Australia too but, from my recollection, is exorbitantly expensive Down Under. Anyway the poster child for Bebe right now is Mischa Barton, who is irritatingly gorgeous in Bebe's current collection. So I scored a very cute satin shirt/vest combo in wintry shades of black and grey. Chic.

And just as I was laden with shopping bags and chanelling a post-Hollywood Boulevard Pretty Woman, I approached Betsey Johnson's atelier. Now bear in mind I was in my Saturday best, which means jeans and sneakers and a puffy vest, so I was not boutique-ready. But I was certainly not ready for this boutique, as evidenced by my repeated tugging on the shop door in vain attempts to gain entry.

It wasn't until the shopgirl buzzed me in that I realised I had entered one of THOSE stores; this inner sanctum of boutique snobbery that only grants entry to those shoppers that either look easily swindled, or are too rich to care that the high price tag is not directly proportional to the quality of the clothes. I obviously fit into the first category!

A quick scout around the racks convinced me that I adored everything on offer but my salary would not allow me to indulge. And so, hoping against hope that I didn't need to be buzzed out to leave, I pushed on the exit door and found myself back on the pavement, and back in reality.

Reviving myself at Starbucks, I put myself on the bus back home and vowed to save my pennies and head back to Halsted some other time, very soon.