It was a bittersweet moment opening that heavy door on Friday, as I did for so many years to pick up a replacement Clinique Moisturizer, linger over a bottomless coffee at the café with friends, or buy that outfit I desperately needed at the last minute for a night on the town.
The smell of heavy fragrance as you walked in, the greetings at the door, the anticipated Christmas decor and friendly — oh so friendly employees that would literally give you the shirt off their backs — or at least the mannequins’!
It was here that I got my very first job, the minute I turned 15 — too young, but with persistence I was hired to sort hangers in a dark storage room. I thought I had won the lottery!
I worked my way up through the years, back and forth from college. I was always hired to fill in somewhere.
Back in the 1980s, I was selling the biggest plastic hoops and chunky necklaces in Fashion Jewelry. I moved on to what was then called Brass Plum (now B.P.) when it was still upstairs, music was loud and dancing encouraged. I became a bit more refined in the Individualist and Women’s Tailored departments, selling suits and delivering them all over town.
I even went as far as driving one to upper Hillside at 10 p.m. for a professional who needed it the next day. That is the level of customer service I learned, loved and valued. From there I worked in Ladies Active, Handbags, and Savvy learning how to display, fold, accessorize and suggestive sell just about anything to anybody.
To this day, when I go into a department store, if there isn’t a complete outfit on the end of a four-way rack, I occasionally create one for fun, adding a blazer, cardigan and necklace before I leave. It’s what I was trained to do. Presentation is everything!
As I walked out for the last time taking my Mama’s hand, I couldn’t help but glance back at the fragrance counters. Will anyone spray me with perfume anymore and greet me with that MAC lipstick red smile and make me feel like the most important person they’ve seen all day?
As comfortable as it is to shop behind a computer screen in pajama bottoms, nothing will take the place of this familiar human interaction, festive holiday shopping and the yearly tradition of anniversary back-to-school shopping.
The old brick building on D Street where I gave half my paycheck to the Anchorage Parking Authority will now just be a distant memory, part of my story as well as many others. Thank you, Nordstrom. You will be missed.
— Becky Berger
Anchorage
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