I have needs, we all have needs, and sometimes needs transcend personal panache and good taste. There’s nothing wrong with what I did, it’s just that I make certain choices and I stick with them. It’s how I decided to live, with no regrets, only experiences from which I can learn from.

I was in need of toiletries and some gorgeous little things. I needed to find a multi-purpose shop that would carry all the products that I need. Despite the good gas mileage that my car gets, the store that I was looking for had to be on the route home. This proves difficult because the town that I live in has this toxic non-commercial soil which prevents large stores from being built leaving only spindly boutiques and palid storefronts run by disaffected housewives with toothy smiles. What I needed was something multi-purpose and easily accessible store, just like the humble soybean from whose non-toxic to animals candles I so happen to be in need of.

In a move to contribute to a company that still has headquarters in this state, I chose Kmart. How bad could it be? I decided to visit the store just days after the merger has been officially closed. As retail analyst Sean Egan was quoted to say about the Kmart/Sears merger “… it’s akin to tying two drunks together and hoping that they’ll be able to walk a straight line …” there was a certain trashiness to the store. The overall appearance wasn’t all too impressive. The floor was clean and the shelves were tidy but there was something in the lighting and arangement of the aisles that gave the store a feeling of imminent doom. There were no vibrant contrasting colors like in Target, or the feeling of bounty one feels when encountering one of WalMart’s tall and fully stocked shelves.

**insert sympathy statement to all disenfranchised employees of companies marginalized by big discount store**
**insert angry statement about big discount stores moving into small towns and pushing out family run stores**

The crippling sadness of the store was made even more apparent by the people in the store. There were no tweens fawning over brightly colored trinkets, no teens slurping sugary frosted drinks, no children taking boxes off the shelves poking and prodding its contents to test its realistic sound or engage its working parts. This store was full of task-oriented adults. There wasn’t any mindless ambling for the sake of commerce, and that’s what I really needed at the time. Somehow all this lock-step efficiency carried over to the merchandise. My atavistic primate brain wasn’t turned on by anything novel. There were no fun shapes or colors that drew me into a state of purchase, and though I left the store with what I needed, I didn’t impulse buy anything frivolous like so many stores like their customers to indulge in, hence no white linen and jasmine scented soy candles.

It was refreshing to visit a store that wasn’t about the sugar and sin, it made for a more nutritious and wholesome experience. We are constantly bombarded with products that peak our desire through novelty or design and happily, I didn’t see that. I may go back again, but I’m haunted with the thought that this store was intentionally mangy-chic cooked up by hipster, counter-culture, post-modern marketing geniuses.