WORTH AVENUE AND A ROPE BELT

I have never been a fashion slave but I do appreciate nice clothing. Lets face it, very expensive clothes just fit better and can add at least a doctorate, an adoring rich husband, and years of easy living to your appearance. When I worked at the bank, we wore uniforms so anything we spent on clothing went purely for casual or evening wear. One of our thrills each year was when Worth Avenue in Palm Beach ( the East Coast equivalent to Rodeo Dr.) would have its end of season sales. Their sales were awesome.

Ah, finally we could afford the good stuff. Not the $500 blouses , but some of the nice lower end merchandise in the likes of stores such as Saks, Neiman Markus, and Gucci, that had incredible sales. We had our moments in the sun so to speak strolling up and down Worth Ave without a real Palm Beacher in sight. They wouldn't have been caught dead buying styles that were so "last year".

When I later went to work for Florida Power and Light as a meter reader, my work uniform consisted of jeans,company tee shirts and chunky leather soled shoes. Absolutely no glamor there. I had been in training for one month when it was time for my first solo flight. My first route was that very same Worth Avenue.

I had been trained on this route and it was a miserable one. The old buildings had been added on to so many times that the meters that once had been on the outside of the buildings, were now hidden in alcoves, inside cabinets, storage rooms, in bathrooms, and under eves. Nothing was in plain sight. I had parked my vehicle with the Meter Reader sign in my window to ward off the meter maids and was getting ready for my first day when I noticed I had forgotten a belt.

We had to carry a small tool pouch that the company provided but we supplied the belt. I had been excited about my first day solo run and had just forgotten. Rummaging around, I found an old sisal rope and thought, this will do for I would be out of sight of anyone behind the stores. So with the rope tied in a big bow holding my tool belt on, off I went.

As prestigious as Worth Avenue is, the back sides of the stores were a horror show. Purely nasty. Old wooden cabinets,when found in the convoluted mess, not only revealed the meters but some of the biggest spiders I have ever seen. They were easily the size of you hand and that was only the body.

Small version of the wood spider.

I had an absolute terror of spiders so I was really, really uncomfortable. Giant prehistoric looking lizards also lived in the tropical setting behind the stores. They didn't frighten me as a species but their sudden movement when you surprised them did. Good thing no one was behind the stores that day for my language was filled with unladylike expletives each time I was startled.

Spider webs frosted my hair, and cuts from the over grown saw grass had blood running from both arms. My clothes were filthy from the ancient dirt covering the cabinets and my jeans were carrying a variety of sticker bush hitchhikers. My family would not have claimed me.

When I finally finished, I leafed through the book to check my readings and found I had missed one. Tiffany and Co had a blank page. By now I was pretty beaten down and not in good humor. There was no way to tell where Tiffany was located. There was nothing behind the string of buildings to tell where you were. I hunted rather haphazardly and finally knew there was only one way. I had to go in the front of the store and ask the owners. I wasn't sure what I looked like but I had a good idea.

I walked from behind the buildings onto the sidewalk and tried to quickly find the missing address. It was about as far from where I was as it could be. Tightening up my rope belt, trying to brush off the cob webs, dirt, and smearing the blood on my arms, I marched down Worth Avenue and in the front door of Tiffany's. I don't know if you have ever been the object of total attention, but you actually can feel eyes burn into your back.

The manager had too much class to gasp when she saw me but when she found out what I wanted, she quickly escorted me out the back door and showed me the hidden cabinet. She didn't say anything but I realized it would be prudent for all concerned if I were to make my way back down the street behind the stores. It was hard work beating through the bushes but that hurt less than the burning eye routine. I did manage a chuckle wondering just what my "wanta be Palm Beach pimp" would have thought had he seen me. Pretty sure my earning power would have taken a dive.

I am certain no one in Palm Beach would have been able to pick me out of a line up after I cleaned up but it was several years before I could take advantage of the Worth Avenue sales again.

Embarrassment has a long shelf life.