letters

Matthew's letters to the Providence Place Mall.

#12 (6 January 2006)
Dear Restoration Hardware,
I was in your store last week trying to pick up some after-Christmas bargains and I just wanted you to know that I was once again disappointed beyond belief. For one thing all your stuff is boring, from your dull curtain rods to your ho-hum address numbers to your blah 24 colors of paint. As though I'd ever go to the mall to buy paint. Honestly.
Furthermore, I have to express my intense disappointment in your staff, who seem to go out of their way to be miserable. It's almost like when people walk in they sigh dramatically and face the other direction until you go away. (The one exception was that sexy older French-Canadian manager guy, but I haven't seen him in months! What did you do, fire him for being pleasant?)
And why won't anybody answer my questions? Like, for instance, why do you keep your catalogs behind the counter instead of out for people to take? And why are your lamps so profoundly ugly? And why would I want to buy your overpriced household cleaners? Does anyone think that you're actually a hardware store? I just don't understand! (Imagine that, as I write this, I just had to pause to throw my hands in the air.) If I wanted to be this annoyed I'd be hanging out at the Veggie Tales kiosk. Jeez.

Yours,
Matthew Lawrence
#11 (27 November 2005)
Dear Old Navy,
While in your store the other day I couldn't help noticing that your holiday cheer was coming across as a little forced. I mean, the employees standing by the register doing giveaways to entertain the people in line was a nice touch, but it was less cute when their trivia questions were things like "What year was Old Navy founded?" and "How tall am I?"
That said, I thought I'd entertain you with a story that will warm the cockles of your megalithic corporate Gap-owned heart.
It began about six months ago, on the twelfth of May to be exact. My friends and I were out celebrating my birthday by doing a Providence gay-bar crawl. About five minutes before closing we landed at the Eagle, which was mostly empty (it being Thursday and all) bar a couple of people standing in the corner. My friend Kerry ordered me a gin and tonic (because I was going through my gin and tonic phase then), but she was cut off by one of the people in the corner.
"Get him a Tanqueray and tonic!"
We all looked over and saw the very ugly, angry-looking man who had spoken.
"This is my friend Matt," Kerry said. "It's his birthday. Isn't he cute?"
"No," the man said. "Maybe if he got rid of those sideburns."
This incensed Kerry, and if she'd been a little less about to pass out she insists that there would have been a fight.
Who was this mysterious man, who thought I was ugly but bought me a drink anyway?
Well, I have no idea who he is, but I see him all the frigging time. It seems like I can't leave my house without seeing him surrounded by a half dozen people drinking ridiculous beverages and hanging on his every word. I thought maybe he was in the mob or something, but all I managed to find out is that he's a florist.
Anyway. Cut to six months later. Specifically Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. I'm bored and freezing to death in my unheated house, so I go out to buy a scarf and gloves. The only scarf I like is at Nordstrom and it's $150, so I pass and head to you, Old Navy. I figured I'd get something functional yet aesthetically displeasing, since that is your specialty. As it turns out, I got some wildly functional and only marginally unattractive gloves for $7.50--a real steal! Better still, when I was leaving the store I found the perfect scarf! It's beige with pink and brown and yellow argyle, which is not aesthetically displeasing at all! Go, you! And the best part is that I only paid $2.50 for it.
Can we say bargains bargains bargains? Yes we can!
Anyway, I thought I'd celebrate my purchases by getting completely wasted, and that's exactly what I did. A few Manhattans later I was smoking in the courtyard behind Score, the video bar for homosexuals, when who should come up to me but the ugly drink-buying man from two paragraphs ago! And do you know what he said to me? I'll tell you what he said.
"I like your scarf," he said. "I have no idea who you are, but I like your scarf."
How do you like that? He actually said something nice. Deranged, but nice. And if that isn't the most heart-warming holiday tale since that song about the kid who buys the shoes for his dead mother then I don't know what is. And it's all thanks to you, Old Navy!

Jingling all the way,
Matthew Lawrence

#10 (23 November 2005)
Dear Pottery Barn,
I am writing to inform you of something which may have escaped your attention. Perhaps you were being relentlessly tasteful and perky to notice, but generally the custom when one fires one's employees is to inform said employees that they are fired.
I did have a job once where I was fired for no reason from the Reflections Cafe in Providence (a cafe which, incidentally, was only marginally more homosexual than working for you.) Or, to be more precise, the manager said that he was really busy and couldn't remember the reason why he was firing me. But never before have I been fired without being told that I was fired. That's just dopey.
I worked for you for a year; in June I even Caught the Spirit enough to win the Catch the Spirit award, an honor which rightfully entitled me to a pen and lunch with the manager--neither of which I ever received, by the way. And did I complain? Not on your nelly!
So I didn't show up for a shift or two in September. I had really pressing things going on that weekend, like being the photographer at an 80's prom birthday party at a VFW, and like doing laundry. We all have to prioritize. But I wasn't just fired. I went in to speak to someone and was led to believe that I wasn't fired. (Or at least I'm pretty sure I was. I was a little bit drunk, since my getting fired more or less coincided with my discovery of after-work pint-sized Jim Beam and ginger ales at the Eagle.) I asked to check my schedule and was told that I couldn't have it. And then when I called to speak to the manager I was left on hold for freaking ever. For freaking ever, I tell you!
The only reason I was really keeping the job was because the discount was kind of convenient, but really, getting the extra 20% off those blue Asian Square sushi platters isn't worth it. And boy am I glad I don't have to work there for the holidays, especially for those whimsical 6-10 on Saturday night on-call shifts. Hope you all have fun when you have to open the store at 6 AM!

I think I like Crate and Barrel better anyway,
Matthew Lawrence

#9 (6 November 2005)
Dear Bang and Olufsen,
I'm not sure what it's called, but I know there's term for when you address words to someone that isn't actually there. It might be apostrophe, or possibly anastrophe. It might also be zeugma, although I'm pretty sure that's something else. Anyway, it's whatever device it is that's used when, say, girls in plays fling themselves on their canopy beds and say things like "How could you do this to me?!" to their boyfriend/father/gymnastics coach, none of whom are actually in the room. It's also what Feivel did in An American Tail when he sang "Somewhere Out There," although for the life of me I can't remember who he was actually singing to (unless it was Linda Ronstadt, but I doubt it.) Forgive me, I haven't seen that movie in eighteen years.
Anyway, I bring this up because YOU'RE NOT THERE! How could you do this to me?! Thanks to your Providence Place location closing I will never again be able to fondle your skinny little $850 phones; never again be able to watch the original Willie Wonka And The Chocolate Factory on your schmancy TVs as I walked by on my way to Filene's; never again hear the sounds of live Morrissey blasting from the speakers of your haute bourgeois speaker systems; and never again be denied the privilege of receiving your catalog in my own home.
Oh, yes, don't think I haven't noticed. When I signed up for the Crate and Barrel catalog I got it within a week; Hold Everything, too. And I can barely blink without getting three new catalogs from Design Within Reach. Even companies I've never heard of (Clark's Register? Flax Art and Design?) are just begging to mail me things. So what's up, B&O? I filled out your stupid little catalog request card on no less than four separate occasions and I've never gotten a single mailing. Come to think of it, maybe I'm glad that you closed! Of course, I have my own theory about it. You used to employ a guy named Dusty, and boy have I heard some stories about him. I don't exactly remember all the details right now so I'm going to make some up. He's the only person to ever get thrown out of two different gay bars on Snow Street for throwing shot glasses at people! He got fired for throwing a CD changer at somebody! He's from Hotlanta! He drinks human blood and then spits it in the eyes of innocent children! He has an unusual chin! And he digs up bodies, eats the skin and shit, and then carves the bones into sharp weapons of destruction that he uses on all the unsuspecting homosexuals of downtown Providence! Oh yes, I know what's going on--Dusty's why I've never gotten a catalog! Well, Bang and Olufsen, I tried to like you, but you let me down, by denying my your catalog and by employing vicious cannibal murderers. I'm sorry to say it, but I'm glad you're gone!

Regretfully,
Matthew Lawrence

#8 (24 October 2005)
Dear The-Soon-To-Be-No-Longer Filene's,

Last night I was with my boyfriend in your store to buy a last-minute gift for a birthday party, and he decided on those cute little Mikasa multi-colored cordial glasses that were on sale. Apparently the birthday girl really dug them, but that's not why I'm writing to you.
I'm writing to applaud you on your staff. They're all so very elderly! Initially we stood in one line, while a very ancient woman rang up the customers in front of us. It took eons, which gave me plenty of time to think about having my breakfast hot chocolate and croissant on those cute Calvin Klein Cargo sets. Then, since we thought the mall was about to close (it being Sunday and all), we went to a different line, where my boyfriend was rung up by a woman that was probably at least ninety percent as old as the first one!
In this age of youth culture, when I feel like a dinosaur at twenty-four, it's nice to know that our elders can spend their golden years in retail without having to greet people at Wal-Mart.

Love,
Matthew Lawrence

#7 (24 October 2005)
Dear Crate and Barrel,
I regret to inform you that I've been in your store twice this month, and not once did I see anything pink to aware me that this is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Surely you must have sold out of your pink Breast Cancer Awareness Month placemats, cheese graters, and media storage cabinets, because I refuse to accept that you did not sell anything festooned with pink ribbons to commemorate this modern-day plague.
Breast Cancer is a very serious disease, and I think it's only right to be reminded of such every time I go in to the mall. Williams-Sonoma came through with their pink Breast Cancer KitchenAid mixer, Aveda's selling hand cream with pink ribbons on it, you can get Breast Cancer Tic-Tacs at CVS, and Origins has an anti-oxidant moisturizer. Even L'Occitane and 7-Eleven have Breast Cancer Awareness merchandise, and you can't even find that shit in Providence Place!

Regretfully Yours,
Matthew Lawrence

PS--I should note that you're not the only offender. I think it's very offensive for The Body Shop to be selling their Stop Violence In The Home Lip Stick this month--surely Domestic Abuse Month is in the Winter or Early Spring.

PPS--Also, what's going on with those square champagne flutes? Euggh!

#6 (6 October 2005)
Dear Everybody At Aveda,
I'm just writing to let you know what a swell job I think you're all doing there. Last week I had the opportunity to shop at the Aveda store in The Gardens mall in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, and left greatly disappointed. I shopped and I shopped, but the employee did not once offer me any comforting tea. I'm shocked and appalled. I mean, to me Aveda says comfort. Comfort that occasionally leaves your hair smelling like lichen, but comfort nonetheless. And comfort equals tea, everybody knows that!
To add insult to injury, in the corner I could see the percolator thing in the back corner, which I knew had to be full of comforting tea. I almost asked if I could have some, but shyness got the best of me.
So, Aveda store of Providence Place, you have my seal of approval, because you're courteous, welcoming, and also because I'm in your database twice with my name spelled different ways, so I always get two of each of your trial size promotions.

Love,
Matthew Lawrence

PS--Since my last hair cut my Annatto Color Conditioner doesn't seem to be giving me the lustrous auburn highlights that it did before. Do you think it's mad at me?

#5 (27 September 2005)
Dear Daphna Rubin, General Manager of Nordstrom,
The other day I was most pleased to receive your letter of thanks, but it is I, Daphna, who should be thanking you. Firstly I should thank you for employing Liz Holloway, and also for employing all the other friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent souls at your E-Bar. Buying coffee and fantasy bars is always one of the highlights of my day, even during the busy holiday season (which is rapidly approaching!) I love how everyone immediately knows that I want soymilk and raw sugar--even though I'm not even a vegan!
Though I was disappointed that your letter of thanks didn't include, say, coupons or a gift certificate, I'm glad to know that you care that I care, which is why I'm letting you know that I care that you care that I care.

Love,
Matthew Lawrence

PS--Is your name really Daphna? Perhaps you might want to discuss this some day, maybe over some delicious e-bar coffee.
PS--Have you seen Liz Halloway's MySpace profile? Look at it here: http://www.myspace.com/l1zr0cks.

#4 (25 September 2005)
Dear The Friendly Girl at TCBY,

Let me tell you a story. Picture it: Warwick, early 2003. I'm working in the store that dare not speak its name, the one where I go home every night covered in glitter and smelling like Clean Cotton Yankee Candles. And there's a girl named Nina that works at Auntie Anne's. She's nice, and despite the unfortunate blue denim shirt (which, God almighty, I also have to wear) she seems kind of cute. She gives me her number and I think we can have lunch some day. One day on my lunch break I get bored, having already gone through the Macy's Men's clearance rack, so I go outside to the planters in the parking lot and pick some flowers for Nina.
Naturally, Nina gets the wrong idea and things get kind of awkward. Anyway, Friendly Girl at TCBY, I just you this just so things don't get too awkward between us. Because you do have the cheapest soda in the mall and because I walk by you on average six to eight times a week.

Sincerely,
Matthew Lawrence

PS--Does that dumb-looking boy still work there? He didn't look like he could do math, but boy was he hot!!

#3 (5 September 2005)
dear the crab kiosk,
okay, i still don't get it. you've been there forever. even the oversized slipper kiosk didn't make it and you're still there. how do you do it? how do you manage to stay in business, selling crabs right in-between bath and body works and the clark's store? especially since i've never seen anybody walking around the mall with a crab, or with a bag of crabs. consider my mind boggled.

love,
matthew lawrence

#2 (24 August 2005)
Dear Sigrid Olsen,
I have never been in your store, and here's why. Your signage is ugly. U-G-L-Y you ain't got no alibi ugly. Fugly, even.
Now, I realize that, as a young male of limited means and lefty leanings, I'm not part of your target bourgeois middle-aged female demographic. However,
Sigrid, there is nothing even remotely appealing about signs that say "SALE" that look like they were made out of construction paper. You're not The Children's Place, for Christ's sake.

Sincerely,
Matthew Lawrence

PS--I don't care about your new pant fit program, either. Those numbers are weird, yet not intriguing.

#1 (23 August 2005)
dear the boy at origins,
i don't know your name but you're the only male in the store, so i'm fairly sure that you'll get this. i just wanted to let you know that you'd be really cute if it weren't for the fact that you clearly but 37 different products in your hair. or perhaps just one, but that one is the kind of gel that is the color of the ooze in the teenage mutant ninja turtles movies, and it comes in a tub that's the size of a container of country crock and it has a black label with charcoal zebra stripes and fuschia writing in a faux-neon cursive style. at any rate, boy, it has to stop! i'm saying this not because i'm hitting on you (because i have a boyfriend and you're too femmy-looking anyway) but for your own good. la looks is the looks of the past.

sincerely,
matthew lawrence

ps--i also really like your clear improvement active charcoal face mask, only i don't really ever have enough money for it. perhaps you could sell me some with your discount, or even offer to look the other way while i steal some. i'd appreciate it.