One of those things that is both excellent and quite dreadful about Manhattan is that the shops are always open. You know, it's the city that never sleeps, and all that (although I'm sure that J. Crew, for example, does sleep - it just happens to be when I, too, am sleeping). During my usual hours of being awake, the shops are well and truly open.
This can be a bad thing, like it nearly was last Friday. A bad day at work and an hour or so to kill before meeting my friends found me at the Chanel makeup counter in Macy's with my wallet right there and ready to go. I was thisclose to treating myself to some stuff to add to my makeup bag, which would have acted nicely as added weight and nothing more (highlighter - I own already; red lipgloss - impractical on so many sticky red levels) when the lovely, clearly-more-responsible-than-me saleswoman suggested I think about it, then dusted me with glittery stuff (nicer than it sounds) and sent me on my way (to the socks department. H1 got new socks as a result of my spare time and sulky demeanor. Clearly I need to work on the whole 'retail therapy' thing.)
It can also, however, be a great thing. Like, for example, if you had an hour or so to kill on another evening, before meeting up with friends, and you were also slowly but surely being spliced in half, due to an unlucky combination of the first cold day of autumn coinciding with the discovery that you had not bought any new tights since the previous cold times, and with those previous cold times came the nasty realisation that America (yes, the whole country) had a dreadful dearth of tights, and so you were reduced to buying and wearing tummy control tights. Then you could make your way to H&M (a nice, normal European store keeping American hours, where they know about things that nice normal people wear in winter) and buy up their entire supply of tights, before heading out to a delicious Italian dinner.
That. That was me, and I can safely say, if that is how tummy control feels I want no part of it. I'm fine with my uncontrolled tummy, in my nice normal non-American tights. Especially after an Italian dinner. So I guess on occasions like that I'm grateful for the unusual (to me) hours that the shops keep. And on occasions like last Friday - well, actually, that worked out pretty well too, I and H1's feet must admit.
So um, yeah. Overwhelming agreement for the shops being open all the time being a good thing. Really not how I thought this was going to go, but who am I to argue?