Retail Vampires
Adapted from the 8 minute speech - “Retail Vampires” that got me into the 1995
State Finals of the Rostrum Voice Of Youth Competition
Retail Vampires, a topic I can really get my teeth into *l*. Sorry. That bad joke was
brought to you by the creators of the latest unfunny American sitcom. Retail vampires
are far more prolific than their blood-sucking counterparts. Although they prefer soft
downlights or pulsating fluroescent strobing to natural daylight, you can see their
reflection in mirrors - always of course looking ten times groovier, thinner and just
plain more with it that you do.
I feel the call of the retail vampires is hardest to resist when I have money burning a
hole in my pocket. It is almost physically impossible to walk past a clothes store or a
CD shop with the hypnotic phrases “Everything Must Go!” “Reduced To Clear”
“50-75% Off Everything” “Crazy Bargains!” and my personal weakness “Nothing
Over $20.” So true to form, the retail vampires suck me in to their lair.
Once caught in the den, the vampire materialises in the form of an incredibly
attractive young man, with bleach-blonde hair, eyebrow ring, an impossibly cool
jacket, cord pants and the inevitable Converse Lone-Stars.
“Howzit goin’?” he grins, making me feel like I am the only person ever to have
entered the shop. “Need any help?”
(Only to wipe the drool from my chin) “Umm, just looking, thanks” I then look
in desperation at the racks of clothing designed predominantly for the anorexic 10
year-old market which simply refuse to flatter my size 12 body.
“We’ve got these new tops in, they’re pretty cool . . .” he gestures towards a
rack of tiny tank-tops with spaghetti-thin straps.
“Great!” I gasp and snatch up the biggest I see. “I’ll have this one. I don’t need
to try it on.” He places my selection in a bag emblazoned with the shop’s name, and
charges me $37 for the pleasure. I smile dumbly, take my bag and walk out of the
shop, passing a guy coming in on the way. I turn back just in time to see my sexy sales
assistant ripple and change form into a 19 year old blonde chick, in cute cargo pants,
big shoes and one of the tiny spaghetti-strap tank tops I have just bought.
Another great ploy of the retail vampires is those big boxes of various CDs out
the front of the store in a “Crazy Bargain, All CD’s $10” Who hasn’t been part of a
frantic crowd flicking desperately through Hanson, John Farnham and The Bodyguard
Soundtrack albums in the hope of finding a pre-Dookie Green Day release, or maybe
some Beatles bargains.
I used to encounter another kind of retail vampire when I lived in farming
country in Mid-North South Australia and trips to the city of Adelaide were a chance
to see what the city folk were wearing and update the wardrobe. I would saunter into
an intimidatingly groovy boutique in my jeans, boots and good checkered shirt and
browse through sequinned hot pants and crushed velvet slip dresses. The
purple-haired, knee-high-boot-clad retail vampire would inevitably sniff me out and
try and seduce me with conversation.
“Hi-ii!” (Always in an incredibly high-pitched voice)
“G’day”
“These are really fab aren’t they?” (gestures to the sequinned hot pants) I have
them in red.”
“Cool. Yeah, not much use for them where I’m from, though.”
“Oh ri-ight! Ha ha, yes, I thought you might have been from the country! How
are you liking the city? Do you find it’s such a spin-out with all the cars and people
and stuff??” (I am not joking, this chick is serious). I stare at her blandly.
“Well, actually, mate, I just pretend all the folks are sheep and I feel right at
home! D-yuh, d-yuh!” I reply, cheekily.
“Oh, ha ha ha, yes . . .” she mumbles, rubs the glitter above her eye and goes off
to sort feather boas.
It’s not often you can pull off such a coup against the retail vampires. They are
cunning. They know what you want, and you know you want it. They’re not scared to mention lay-by. So be afraid. Be
very afraid.
