Claire Dickson Boutique

Dear ladies who work at Claire Dickson:
I’m pretty sure I didn’t step in poop on my way into your store… so why did you avoid me like I had a foul odor radiating from my body? OK, so one woman eventually came forward to help me (thanks, blondie) but she kinda seemed like she was being forced at gunpoint to do so.
Maybe you thought I didn’t look like the kind of woman who would be willing to drop hundreds of dollars on an outfit. Perhaps you’ve never seen anyone with tattoos up close. Who knows? But begrudgingly showing me black dresses that look pretty identical to the ones I’ve bought from Banana Republic isn’t going to earn your commission or my business.
For the record, I was there because I wanted something lovely to wear to my best friend’s engagement party, so I was willing to shell out the big bucks. And guess what? After getting the evil eye from every staff member who seemed like they thought I was going to try to pocket the jewelry on my way out, I hopped in my car and drove down the street to First Impressions, a boutique that genuinely appreciates my business. And I spent multiple Benjamins on a dress that makes me look spectacular. So there.