Last time we came to Fargo, I estimated my clothing-related expenditures somewhere in the range of $200 for our 16-day shoot. I had no time (read: patience or energy) to do laundry, so I supplemented my wardrobe at the local Target. One afternoon, on the shoot, the crew took a trip to Scheel’s, which, in addition to bizarre flavors of licorice, also deals in sale-priced North Face gear. Because I’m powerless to resist a bargain and because the flesh is weak, I may have spent $150 (lightweight fleece! perfect for april! maybe!) (i’ve never really had a good pair of gloves! it’s 23 below zero!) on TOP of the Target infusion and then promptly repressed whole endeavor.
Once home, I did the real math in my head, said a Hail Mary, and promised never to be so foolish again.
I guess I lost the $30 gloves on Superbowl Sunday, and this morning I realized I was out of underwear, socks, and leggings. We leave tomorrow to shoot a weekender ice-fishing / kite-flying festival in Devils Lake, so I’d pretty much be dead in the water (ha ha) without appropriate outerwear and undergarments. My mission was clear. I headed into the gauntlet.
Gloves at Scheel’s set me back another fifty bucks (I saw these super cool heat-trapping glove LINERS, too, so there’s your upcharge), but they also had North Face snow pants on clearance, down to $110 from $150 (I mean, I need my legs, right? Right.), and then, on line for checkout, there was display of facemask things for the cold, and my nose always freezes when we’re shooting outside, so I grabbed one of those, too. As I signed for the total, I almost bit off my own tongue.
Debt-induced seizure aside, there was still the socks / underwear issue to be handled, so I spun over to Target. The peculiar seduction of this store has been well documented by myself and by others, so I won’t go into great detail, but let’s just say that I might have suddenly realized that I needed another pair of work jeans, and I might have, oh hey, found some more good layering shirts on clearance, and then maybe I was breaking out so I grabbed a green clay mask and also maybe some nail polish just because. And, of course, socks. And underwear. And another thousand black tank tops. And deodorant. And some black tea. (BLACK TEA? Even I don’t really get that one.)
These two trips alone almost top the entire KHW7 clothing outflow, which makes me want to curl up and die, but I’m sitting here typing this in a sleepcoma-comfy pair of MSUM sweatpants I bought yesterday at the University bookstore. I’ve never had a pair of awesome sweatpants. They were thirty bucks or something. But seriously, at this point, who’s counting.
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