A couple weekends ago I experienced my first trip to Los Angeles, Calif. After getting over… A couple weekends ago I experienced my first trip to Los Angeles, Calif. After getting over the initial shock of being able to wear a jean skirt and sleeveless shirt in the middle of November, I really began to pay attention to my surroundings.

I’m from Pittsburgh, so I grew up shopping at Ross Park Mall. To me, Banana Republic is considered a high-end store; I had never heard of several designers like BCBG or Dolce and Gabbana until recently, and you wouldn’t even want to know how pathetic my first attempt at pronouncing Versace was. So while shopping in California, I couldn’t believe how many designer stores flooded the mall.

To humor ourselves, my mom, sister and I walked into Gucci. While looking at prices, our attempts to look like serious potential costumers were futile, as our mouths hung agape with disbelief. Dresses for more than $4,000, shoes for more than $1,000 and a cotton tank top, which I could have bought at The Gap for $6.99, for over $300.

After making eye contact with one of the workers, I greeted him. After looking me up and down in a cursory glance, he reciprocated a very insincere greeting. I guess my clothes from Ross Park Mall weren’t good enough for him because he simply wouldn’t give me the time of day.

I found this to be a stupid move on his part. Although he figured, and rightfully so in this case, that he didn’t need to waste any of his selling effort on me, he really had no idea what my true intentions were. As far as he knows, I could have taken daddy’s credit card for a day of lavish shopping at the mall. Or I could have decided that I was going to use all of my summer job money to find the perfect handbag. Just because I look more like a GAP purse girl than a Gucci handbag girl, doesn’t mean that it would have been impossible for me to make a purchase. Also, in my mind I knew that unless he was one of the highest paid mall workers in the world, he couldn’t afford to buy or wear Gucci himself, but that didn’t stop his snooty, disingenuous attitude from infuriating me.

I pride myself on being a bargain shopper. I have no problem with walking straight to the sale rack when I enter a store; I like to seek out stores that offer clothes that aren’t popular, but unique, and I have no shame in going to thrift stores and stocking up on 80 cent T-shirts.

I’d be lying if I said I never got a laugh out of someone’s outfit, but I can honestly say that I would never look down on someone because their clothes weren’t good enough.

I’m convinced that half the people carrying around designer gear aren’t even in love with it – and for a handbag that costs more than $500, they should be in love with it – but are rather paying for a name, to prove to the world that they are of the elite who can afford such things.

If I was going to carry around a Louis Vuitton handbag with all those L’s and V’s splattered all over it, shouldn’t Vuitton be paying me for the advertising?

Carrying around fake designer products is a whole new ball game. Except for the people who genuinely love the product but can’t afford it so they get a fake, it’s a pretentious attempt to project a false image.

Some people may be proud of their Louis Vuitton purses, but are they also proud that thousands or maybe millions of other people have the exact same ones? Whatever happened to seeking and embracing an individual sense of style?

I can see where some people are coming from, though, as I used to be all wrapped up in wearing name brands and clothes that were from the “popular” stores. Luckily, maturity has caught up with me and I’ve learned that being comfortable, being money conscious and expressing myself is far more important than wearing name brands.

If one day I do have enough money to browse Versace and graze the racks of Gucci, I can only hope that I can maintain this same mind frame to realize that there are better and more important ways in which my money can be spent. I would find it somewhat selfish to spend all that money on myself, when there are so many causes that need money more than I’d need an $800 pair of shoes.

So for now, I’ll be content being a Pittsburgh girl wearing cute, $10 tank tops and leave the Versace gowns for Hollywood.

E-mail Anjali at [email protected].