This article was originally published on popsugar.com.
It started out as an average shopping day; I aimlessly strolled through the mall
empty-handed with nothing but Auntie Anne’s cinnamon-sugar pretzel bites in hand. Glancing at window displays and browsing through clothing racks, I waited for something to jump out and grab me. But everything was so darn average and uninspiring.
And that’s when it caught my eye: the dopest, wackiest button-down shirt I’d ever seen. The only problem? It was in the men’s section at PacSun; I’d have to cross the unspoken invisible line thatdivided the store by gender. One quick glance around the store confirmed there were no employees or shoppers nearby, so I took the plunge and beelined it to the shirt.
As I thumbed through the rack to find an appropriate size, a sales associate approached me with a semi-confused look on her face. “Cool shirt, right? Are you, like, shopping for your boyfriend or something?” she asked me. I felt my face turning red, so I fibbed and said, “Yes.” Embarrassed that I was actually thinking of buying the shirt for myself, I put it back, telling the sales associate that it may not suit my nonexistent boyfriend’s style. Aaaaand cue the awkward exit.