Saks Fifth Avenue Is Not Real Life

Saks Fifth Avenue detail, originally uploaded by Joe Architect.

I spent part of the afternoon at Saks today. I was en route between Le Doug's office and another appointment and I decided to stop in. I was in the mood for a signature scent for summer, anyway. I thought I wanted one of the new Versace scents, but walked out with some Marc Jacobs instead, because it came with a shimmery body lotion.

It's easy to get sucked into Saks. It's nine floors of endlessly pretty things, and everything smells good. The cosmetics are top-of-the-line, they have every designer imaginable and the gems and jewelry are downright obscene, and you know how I love obscene jewlery. Inside Saks, it seems perfectly normal to spend $500 on a dress or a pair of shoes. There must be something in the air, because rational thought goes right out the window when you're staring a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps in the face.

I love Saks, I really do. I love that there exists a happy place where fashion and pretty things rule and the only thing that matters is that your credit card goes through. I love the sense of escape one feels on the fifth floor, among the Nanette LePore frocks and the Tori Burch flats. I love that I can manhandle Baccarat water goblets on the eighth floor, right next to the Hermes place settings. It's tremendous, it's all happening. If grown women are allowed to have fairytale indulgences, I believe Saks is it.

And then, before you know it, you're back on Fifth Avenue, and there's some homeless guy asking you for change and a bunch of tourists taking pictures in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral. But with your little bag of goodies, be it a Miu Miu purse or maybe some Creme de la Mer, you have your oasis of splendor to indulge in once you get back home.