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You've got questions, she's got answers. Be among the first to read Elise Mac Adam's new etiquette guide.
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Bye-Bye, Bye-Bye, Bye-Bye
- Oh look, there's a dazed couple carrying around an unspeakably small baby in a car seat. Her shirt is completely unbuttoned, showing off a bra so new and white it glows under the fluorescent lighting.
- And here's a nervous fellow taking his third cell phone call in as many minutes. He's got a Moses basket tucked under his arm (sans baby) and is tossing additional necessities into it. He freezes, bottle in hand. "We need a what? What is that?"
- Don't look now, but Mistress Efficiency is barreling our way. Even her shopping cart is well organized. She holds a single unwrinkled shopping list; her lipstick is unsmudged, she has not spilled food on her unborn child and looks quite elegant in her maternity pinstripe suit.
- Mistress Efficiency is followed by her mother, Matron Bounty, picking up the slack with a second cart.
There's enough wildlife on display at the Buy Buy Baby on 25th Street in Manhattan for a David Attenborough documentary. I'm standing around, feeling a little exposed, wondering what my behavior says about me. On the plus side, this is my fourth trip, and I'm not crying yet.
My previous excursions were undertaken when I was, admittedly, under strain. The first time, I went in with a close friend who was armed with a well-researched list and a mission. When I realized how much work I needed to do before I even attempted to penetrate the smorgasbord of kid things, I made my excuses and burst into tears on Seventh Avenue. Months later I was shepherded in by my good friend G., who was worried that I didn't have anything. While I had a brief, private freak-out in the bathroom, I emerged with some necessities and renewed love for G. My third essay was crazed. I was five days out of the hospital and needed stuff and...
Was I wandering around with my shirt open in February? This woman's bra is a hell of a lot nicer than mine was.
Anyway, a trip to Buy Buy Baby is rather like going to the airport. Some people aren't traveling- they're just hanging around for their friends. Others are reluctant to get on board but it's too late to change their minds. Some are so thrilled they can't wait to take off; a few are terrified to the point of paralysis, and others are taking care of business- the flight (or the trip to the baby emporium)- is purely incidental, a way to get where they're going. Under one gigantic roof, dozens of little dramas bounce around, oblivious to one another. Unlike an airport, however, there's no bar on hand to ease one's pre-flight jitters, and the knocked-up aren't encouraged to hit the bottle hard anyway.
For pregnant people and new parents, nothing is more obvious than that you are on a strange trip. You don't know where you're going, what will happen, what you will need, and you won't even know when you've arrived at your destination, but you're supposed to feel some solace in these enormous stores (all Buy Buy Baby outposts are 35,000-60,00 square feet). There is, however, questionable comfort in having innumerable choices.
Buy Buy Baby is not a place you want to visit alone. It is hard to navigate without some kind of support, even if you're looking for something ostensibly amusing... an exersaucer, for instance.
One exersaucer- big, unattractive, generally noisy creatures, beloved by babies everywhere- is bad enough, but an enormous spread of them is horrifying. At Buy Buy Baby, every single product is displayed in great, uninflected volume, so unless one knows exactly what one is looking for, the choices are overwhelming. And don't even entertain the idea that you will be able to make selections guided by good taste or aesthetics- that will only lead to sorrow. If you don't already know the name and model of the product you need, you must embrace shopping as an exercise in randomness. Perhaps you will get the right thing, but probably not. I'm standing in a forest of primary colored plastic wondering why I didn't do exersaucer research before dragging my kid and my dog and my friend on this odyssey?
And so it inevitably comes down to not being prepared. No, no, it doesn't matter which, if any, exersaucer I select, but it feels as if I should be armed with hard information, or at least instinct for guidance. With all baby items, now that everything claims to have special properties that will make the child well-adjusted (or smart or peaceful or coordinated or confident or financially savvy), the threat of making the wrong choice feels worse than standard shopper's folly. Is this what's worrying the unintentional exhibitionist staring at the wall of bottle systems? Only Mistress Efficiency walks with confidence, stocking up on well-researched items. Certainly I could do the work and show up, ready to spend wisely and well, but I hate to have another item added to the litany of "shoulds" that runs through my head most evenings around seven o'clock when I fear the day has been squandered.
Ultimately, my problem with Buy Buy Baby (apart from the name) is that it isn't much fun. Buying toys and clothes, bottles and even babyproofing supplies should be amusing, intriguing at least. But this place, and stores like it trade on insecurity and hope that anxious parents will buy everything in sight to forestall disasters. This is retail therapy for the Zoloft set, not the lotus eaters.
Since I try not to tumble into either category, I'm a bit stuck, unable to care enough to do the research but not capable of making a random selection. In the end, I leave with detergent and (not enough) diapers, my caravan of kid, dog and friend in tow. I'm not in tears, I don't want to find the nearest bar, and I'm glad my shirt is on. For now, for the moment, I don't need that airport-terminal feeling because I am going home, and since Felix doesn't know the joys of the exersaucer, I don't mind depriving him of them indefinitely.
posted by Elise at 5:43 PM
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