Just browsing.

So Edmondson and I are doing one of our usual meet-for-dinner things at Phipps Plaza, same as always, but, instead of having a movie to see, he tells me that we should find a frame for my new movie poster before eating at our usual restaurant, the not-so-pretentious American Cafe. So we go looking around at the stores. But, surprise surprise, in a place as ridiculously high-end as Phipps, there's nowhere to find a place that sells either posters or frames for posters.

(One of the helpful Simon employees there at the information desk told me that I'd have better luck at a Wal-mart. Knowing that I needed something of a specific size that a megamarket wouldn't carry, I called her a bad name.)

So, instead of doing anything practical, Edmondson and I went browsing the boutiques. First, we went to this new store called Tommy Bahamas, which had clothes that seemed to come out of a circa-1985 Panama Jack nightmare. They had some nice shirts and sport coats, but, you know, nothing worth the $85 to $500 they were asking for.

When I tried on this fantastic, lightweight sportcoat, one of the clerks told me I had a George Clooney look, saying that the jacket he had me try on looked like something on the cover of the latest Vanity Fair. I looked at him and said, "Wow, you didn't sound like a salesman until RIGHT THEN." Then, I told him that George Clooney's wearing a wet swimsuit on the latest cover of Vanity Fair. His co-workers told him that he'd just been "shot down" by me, so I ended up with this really cute, incredibly gay salesman instead - who pointed out more $80 shirts that looked like $15 shirts from Eddie Bauer. The gay salesman was attentive, but he didn't seem to be flirting with me because, of course, everyone thinks that I'm with Edmondson when we hang out at Phipps. So I looked at Edmondson, and he said he was tired of the Bahamas. So we left.

We went to Armani Exchange, but we left when we realized that the only thing I could afford was a T-shirt with a giant Armani Exchange insignia on it - and a URL for their website. What, exactly, would I be saying about my personal sense of style if I wore that T-shirt? "Look at me, I can afford something from Armani Exchange!" Maybe it's me, but they seem like the worst offenders of this whole walking-logo thing. I mean, other stores at least put some concern in what the shirts LOOK like, even if they have their logos emblazoned across them. Armani Exchange T-shirts, with few exceptions, look ugly. The jeans are nice enough, but I can't afford those yet. And what exactly makes their denim more or less durable and wearable than a jeans-specific company? (I mean, it's not like I'm buying a Chanel suit for my mother that she could be fashionable in this year or 30 years from now. That's different.) If I bought a pair of jeans at Armani Exchange rather than the Gap or Old Navy, there isn't much difference in the jeans. The only reason they're so expensive is because they carry the Armani name. And they only sorta do that, for the Armani Exchange is their freakin' outlet store.

We walked past Tiffany's, but I couldn't get Edmondson to go in with me. We ended up at this art gallery run by two Asian brothers. I walked into the place with a quick step and began loudly criticizing the Picasso-wannabe works on the walls as "derivative" and "lacking any true inspiration," which they did. The gallery manager, who helped get me the name of a good framing company, sorta stared at me most of the time that I was walking around, criticizing things. At one point, the brothers had done four paintings of exactly the same thing, switching only the colors. It didn't seem like a series, though. It seemed mass-produced and commercial, which is the feeling I get about any art in a "gallery" in the middle of a shopping mall, regardless of how high-end the mall pretends to be.

After that, Edmondson and I had some real fun. Skipping a trip to the Versace boutique since I didn't have sunglasses to shade me from those ridiculous colors, we went instead inside the actual Giorgio Armani boutique, which, I'm sorry, is the best men's clothing store anywhere on Earth. Much as I hate the Armani Exchange, the actual suits at the Armani boutique get me salivating and wishing that I had a million dollars.

Entering the Armani boutique, I've found, is never a good time to be shy or to betray how much money you're truly worth. I mean, if you're going to step inside, it's a good idea to act like you belong there or at least like you know what the hell you're doing, even if you don't. You can't just be a tourist. You have to act like you're going to buy.

I was wearing a Blue Sky Coffee T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and I think my hair was a bit messed up. But I went right up to the suits, began touching and feeling around, checking the prices of the ties, pointing out to a silent Edmondson what I liked and what I didn't. I asked him what he thought of everything, but he said he had no sense of style and didn't have an opinion.

I checked out the suit on the mannequin, noticed that it looked gray from a distance but was not actually gray. It was black with Seurat-pontilism style white dots all down it. It was gorgeous. With it, the salespeople had put a white shirt and a tie that, to me, didn't seem to work. It had a large burgundy-striped print going diagonally across it, and it seemed like '70s throwback to me.

I like more subtle patterns, for I think smaller geometry works better. I picked up a royal blue tie ($125) and carried it over to the suit, finding that I didn't think the color worked on that either for there was nothing in the suit that would play well off the blue in the tie.

So I put that tie down, grabbed another one and carried it toward the mannequin.

That's when the clerk came over.

"I don't like the tie that goes with that at all," I said. "The suit's fantastic, but the tie seems a bit loud for me. I was trying to find something that I thought would work better."

He disagreed with me about the tie, saying he thought it worked fine but that he would help me find something that would suit me better.

So, and this is my favorite part, he goes into the back, pulls out another one of the suits and drapes it across the tie display in front of me and Edmondson. And he gets another sales associate to bring another white shirt. And then he starts trying to find a proper tie. When he can't find one on the top display, he pulls out the shelf under the display that had about 100 more ties.

So I started grabbing them, saying that I didn't think a blue worked properly. I told him that the burgundy on the display seemed like a good color but that I didn't like the pattern in the tie. I told him that it would be wrong to pick a tie that had the same dotted pattern as the suit but a different color, and he agreed with me. So we tried other ties. This went on for a few minutes. Finally I pulled up this black tie, strictly black, but it had a textured pattern to it. I told him that would be the proper tie to go with it. So he tied it in a Windsor knot, then he agreed with me.

All the while, I decided to let him know what he probably already guessed, that I was a mere browser who liked to see if he could talk the talk sometimes. I asked him if he liked working there. I asked him the price of the suit, then laughed when he told me that the one we were mixing and matching ties on was $2,350.

I said thank you, for it was really nice the way he treated me. And I strut out of there, leaving Edmondson trailing behind me.

And I said to myself, strangely for usually I try to not be vain or price-conscious, that one day I would own one of those suits - if not that one. One day, I want to walk into the Armani boutique and actually buy something.

Anyway, we didn't find a frame for my movie poster. Edmondson and I talked about drive and romance and life over our usual Stars of Mozzarella at the American Cafe. And we had fun.