The Shophound

Cintra Wilson Goes Shopping: Faulty Incognito Edition

This week's Thursday Styles marks the return of our current favorite critical shopper, Cintra Wilson who visits Balenciaga and learns a thing or two about anonymously reviewing retail establishments. Stealth is key in this activity, and believe us, we should know.

Cintra breaks rule number 1: don't take notes in the store.

The visual overload was such that, walking in, I couldn’t help immediately scribbling notes, grabbing at the confetti-blizzard of information. A staff member was quickly dispatched to investigate.
“Usually journalists show us credentials,” said the nervy young sales fellow.
They needed to see my badge?
“I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable,” I said, sympathetic but unmoved to reveal my identity.

We haven't actually numbered the rules or even compiled a definitive rule list, but if we had, it would be at or near the top. Having pulled out her pen and pad, she has loudly announced herself as a non-customer. She will now be regarded by the staff as some sort of questionable interloper; an unauthorized reporter, possibly some sort of mysterious inspector or, at the very least, a compulsive note-taker and therefore potentially crazy and undesirable. Cintra, of course, further exacerbated the situation by remaining secretive, risking possible ejection but certainly compromising service.
Now, in most stores nobody would care about this sort of curious behavior, but Balenciaga is not most stores. It is in the envied position of being the American headquarters for the Acclaimed Designer of the Moment. It is the Prom Queen of boutiques, carrying the self-importance that comes with knowing that half of its stock is already sold before it even hits the selling floor. That sales staff knows that, at least for this season, all they have to do to make their sales goals is show up for work and pray that a Lanvin or Nina Ricci boutique doesn't open up anytime soon to usurp their tiaras.

Trend Warning: The Balenciaga Frankenfoot

We have spent the last few weeks slogging through the Fall Phone Books magazines, Vogue, W, Elle, Harper's Bazaar, Popular Mechanics. Something we thought was simply a runway trick to make fashion shows amusing seems to have shoved its way through to the mainstream, and we're a little concerned. They remind us of those clodhoppers John Travolta wore in Saturday Night Fever. Even a couple of years later they were laughable. Frankly, we're surprised that we haven't heard from The Manolo on this issue, as he has never been silent about ungainly footwear like the dreaded Uggs. What started a few seasons ago as a charming revival of chunky 1940's platforms seems to have evolved into a whole new genre of steroid-induced footwear, like the Balenciagas pictured above, designed for the lady who walks into the shoe department and says,
"Hey, what have you got that will make me look like I have two club feet?"
"Got anything here that will make it really easy to twist my ankle?"
"I wanna look like a Clydesdale!"

More after the jump