Roboshop

My late wife was an avid shopper. She would start moving through clothing racks in a very methodical way and you could see her calculating fabric, color, etc. as she went. I called this method “Roboshop” because she reminded me of the Peter Weller character as he would move and swivel his head to take in his surroundings. The only difference between the two of them is that I didn’t hear any whirring as she looked around.

My favorite moment of Roboshopping happened in a Berkeley used clothing store. She was doing her usual full concentration examination of things on a rack when I noticed the top of a head over the curtain of one of the dressing rooms. Clearly a tall person was trying something on, since I shouldn’t have been able to see them otherwise. I didn’t think much of it at first; I was just sort of along for the ride, since the store only had clothes for women.

But then the curtain to the dressing room slid open and out flounced a very tall person wearing a poufy tutu-like skirt, a leotard top, and a Judy Garland mask framed by a blonde wig. At the bottom were high heels that helped accentuate the person’s height. Clearly we had a cross-dresser shopping for a party dress.

She stepped in front of a full-length mirror, pulled at the skirt hem to see how much it might flare, turned sideways, did it again, and then swooped back into the dressing room. The curtain closed, and there was a rustling of material as that first skirt came off and another went on.

I waited for Act Two. A moment later, the curtain opened again, and the same action happened, this time with a different skirt. Front view; side view; and then Judy disappeared back into the dressing room once again.

At that point my wife was finished looking and we walked out the front door. I said, “How about the tall cross-dresser in the Judy Garland mask!” And she said, “What?” She missed the whole thing completely, being totally immersed in the garments she had been looking at.

Roboshop.