Well, the vainest gal I've ever seen,
Is one I'll call the "Thrift Store Queen."
Every day you'll see her there
With her button nose raised in the air.
"Do you have Ferragamos today?
Please call when they arrive," she'll say,
Then "Look, my dear, here's a Jones of New York,
Go on, buy it, you'll wow ‘em at work.
The cash register man is smiling,
Puttin' on airs is so beguiling,
"Oh, here's a Neiman Marcus tag,
Let's see if we can find a matching bag."
Clothes in a cart, she stands in line,
Smacking gum and feelin' so fine,
"How much, sir, do I have to pay,"
"Just Five Fifty Five," I hear him say.
‘Oh, I guess that's all right, use my Talbot's bag,
How things have gone up, I remember the day,
When I could have bought much more than that,
They've even gone up on the rent on my flat."
Waving her hand with one silk glove,
She says "Thank you so much, my love."
It's been a joy to shop with you,
I'll recommend you to more than a few.
She picked up a straw hat and added a dollar,
Asked the cashier man to carry her bag to her car,
He's accommodating, he's been there before,
And with a flourish he opens her ‘70 Ford's door
© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)