Ann Who?

It’s more than a store. It’s more than a brand. And it’s a bit more than a job. It’s a group of the quirkiest, most entertaining girls you’ll ever hope to meet.

During my nearly three-year tenure at the charming store we’ve lovingly referred to as FAT (further explanation of the acronym is not necessary), I have come to find that fashion, in its wide array of style, fabrication and fit, is simply a side-bar in the workings of the store we call Ann Taylor.

Entertainment, for instance, seeps from the pine-stained furnishings. I confess that my natural inhibition for all things embarrassing have, over the years, turned this fine retailer into a bit of a slapstick comedy – albeit one in which red noses and white-painted faces are replaced by pencil skirts and wide leather belts.

The following are just a few of my favorite AT moments:

The Silk Dress Incident – It was beautiful: turquoise and white, a halter neck and a bias-cut skirt that fell just right – or would have, if it weren’t too small. Nevertheless, my first week of AT employment and I tried it on, convinced that I could make it fit over my poky rib cage. Oops. The fastening of too many zipper teeth led to a moment that I have yet to forget: the instant that I got my first Ann Taylor dress irreparably stuck. Tugging at the zipper for a good 15 minutes and coming to the sinking realization that it wasn’t moving either up or down, I called for back-up. After assessing the situation, my then-manager pulled out the only weapon left to our defense – a pair of shiny silver scissors. And with that, my induction to Ann Taylor was complete. The sound of stainless steel slicing through solid silk still haunts me to this day.

The Day That Karma Struck Back – I was running late. I had just left Ann Taylor and had one short stop at Steak-Out before driving to Farmington for my manager’s wedding reception. It was Saturday, and the parking lot was filled to capacity. In an attempt to save time, I pulled into the handicapped parking stall, knowing that I’d be less than five minutes. It was actually more like three: I ran out of the restaurant, proud of my brevity and pleased that I saw no ticket on my car. –BAM!— There was no way of seeing the handicapped parking sign coming – except to have actually watched where I was going. In one abrupt blow, the gods of handicapped parking rained their vengeance on my callous parking decision, ensuring that a right-angled cut on my forehead be my most noticeable accessory at that night’s reception.

A Wretched Offense – I was leaving Ann Taylor – for four months. It was my last week in town before I trekked to Washington for a summer of makeup artistry and unadulterated boredom. My BFF, Megan, and I were discussing ways in which to make our respective summers a bit more bearable apart. One idea of a friendly competition came to mind, self-improvement its primary motivation: The first one to 80 lbs this summer wins! It seemed a grand idea – albeit I would have to lose 50 pounds in comparison with Megan’s mere 25. Still, we discussed the various ways in which this could be accomplished – the abandonment of food the most promising method. Unfortunately, in our involved discussion of all things eating-disordered, Meg and I failed to notice the portly woman shopping within hearing-range of our less-than-healthy discussion. Upon our respective departures, a formal complaint was filed, stating that all this “anorexia talk” was unbecoming and offensive in the retail industry. Megan and I were never scheduled together again, and I’m shamed to report a four-month weight-loss of a mere five pounds.

With amusement as plentiful and varied as the tweed skirts in our fall collection, Ann Taylor has offered a bit of entertainment and as many great friends as embarrassing moments – well, almost.