J.R. Johnson

tl;dr Mr Man has mad shopping mojo.

Those who know me know that I am not a big shopper. Maybe I’m hard to fit or just hard to please, but shopping trips typically mean returning home empty-handed after hours of “maybe” and “nope, sorry” and ”almost, but.” Frustrating, made doubly so by the fact that I only shop when I really need something. Like an outfit for a fancy writers’ gala.

So when Mr Man and I headed out to search for black-tie-worthy wear last week, my expectations were low. Typically, we go shopping for me and I find exactly nothing, but Mr Man magically stumbles upon that thing he wasn’t even looking for in the perfect color and fit, no hassle necessary. I call it his shopping mojo.

This time, he offered to transfer his mojo to me.

It doesn’t work that way, I said. Magic isn’t something you can just hand off to someone else, like an ice cream sandwich or a toaster. I wish, but no.

Ok, he said, but let’s just go see what’s out there. I’m sure we’ll find something that will work. 

I agreed, (not so) secretly braced for potential disappointment.

But then a miracle occurred! The dress I saw online was actually in stock at the store around the corner. It fit. And it was on sale, as was the matching necklace. Unpossible! For what was possibly the first time ever, I had an excellent shopping experience.

I remained unconvinced about the magic mojo, though. Pure coincidence, I said. Or at least, just scale-balancing after my previous bad shopping karma. It can’t last, surely.

And I still needed shoes to go with the dress.

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Today, we went out again, this time on the hunt for that most elusive of prizes, the cute yet (relatively) comfortable dress shoe.

Not a chance, I thought. I mean, I found some possibilities online and they looked good, but would they be in stock when we got to the store? Would they feel as good as they looked? Would the heel be manageable, the color match, my feet agree that three years in slippers was long enough?

I don’t know about that last bit but we got to the store and there they were: the perfect shoes, elegant and comfortable (relatively), with a low yet still stylish heel. (Chances of tripping on my way up to the stage? Minimal, and that’s really all I can ask for.) While they did not come in silver (as a sci-fi writer this did, I admit, cause some sadness) they were available in always versatile black. 

Mr Man’s mojo had struck again. And as I was about to check out, Mr Magic had one more spell up his sleeve. 

Look, honey, he said, here’s the same style in an even cooler pattern. There’s only one pair left but I think it’s your size?

It was. And because Mr Man’s mojo is top notch, that funky cool pattern was also on sale. Now I have an outfit I feel good in and I didn’t have to drain my Gringotts account to do it.

* * *

And that is how I discovered that you don’t have to be born with magic. It can also be shared. 

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