The Window Shopping Project: Walmart.

In this new series, we follow blogger Terri Lowry as she makes her way through a year-long project exploring the various levels of retail in America. Each month we will feature a post from her window-shopping project and hope that it will encourage discourse! You can see last month’s post, on dollar stores, here.

Avenue de l'Observatoire, by Eugène Atget (1926). From the George Eastman House Collection.

I live in a small town twenty minutes south of the Kansas City metropolitan area. To some it is a bedroom community and to others, this county seat is home. 7,500 souls live in the county seat. When I moved here in the late 1990s, our town boasted one of the smallest Walmart stores in the country. The aisles were narrow and crammed with merchandise. Inside the front door, one could help themselves to a free bag of popcorn; munching material as a customer meandered the aisles and visited with their neighbors. It was as much a community center as it was a place to shop.

Our town supported two grocery stores and had a lively old-fashioned town square. That changed when the doors of our 24-hour Walmart SuperCenter opened just off the highway. One grocery closed its doors and several franchise fast-food restaurants sprang up as the business center of town shifted. I have read the articles attesting to Walmart’s founding, its remarkable growth, and the fortunes of the Walton family.

I have read critical articles discussing its business practices and had direct encounters with long-term employees. I have seen the websites that poke fun at the unconscious way people dress while shopping there. I know that the role of their greeters is changing. I shop there myself about once a month, primarily for office supplies (ie, printer cartridges). But over the years, I have purchased some clothing there – watches, a gigantic red nightgown, underwear, a pair of jeans, and flip-flops when they are marked down to a dollar at the end of the season. Last spring, I purchased a tube of Equate’s version of Jergen’s Natural Glow.

The pictures in my collage were snapped early on a Sunday afternoon, after church and before football. I went with a short list of items I wanted to price, thinking they might be of interest to my readers. In the top row of photos, you’ll see items from the cosmetics department. I was surprised to find CKOne, a scent I wore for awhile 20 years ago. I cringed at the prices for women’s anti-aging products, though I don’t use any of these. I was pleased to see a fairly extensive display of Burts Bees products and at least 32 patterns of Sally Hansen’s Salon Effects nail polish strips. I found the bottle of Valerian root I wanted to help promote my “beauty sleep.” I found a watch very much like the classic Timex I replace every two years or so. I think the last time I purchased one of these Indiglo style watches, I paid $30. The imitations were just $7.88. Friendship bracelets sat in a basket atop the jewelry counter for $0.50 each.

I’ll soon need to get over my furtive sense of snapping photos as I shop, but as I wandered through the women’s clothing I wondered to what degree each Walmart tailors its clothing merchandise to the local customer base. At this Walmart, there was a generous supply of velvet running suits, leggings, sweat pants & shirts, as well as yoga pants by Danskin. There were stacks of the Faded Glory jeans, a brand I once purchased ($10.88) when I discovered I was without jeans during a chilly weekend at the Lake. There were novelty t-shirts and gear to represent K-State or KU, whichever of our state teams a shopper might support.

There were scarves and belts and caps and straw bags for those who are eager for spring to arrive. There was a full range of shapewear and undies in all cuts and fabrics and colors. For years, I have purchased my cotton modified bikinis for no more than a $1 a pair. I suppose I could still find that price if I waited for a sale, but on this day only the “Faded Glory” brand offered 3 pair for $2. I liked the sock monkey slippers and the leopard ballerina flats at $3. They might have tempted me had they been in the right size.

One thing that sets “my” Walmart apart from the one that may be in your area is a fabric department. A customer can still purchase notions by the yard, as well as basic yard goods. You can sit on a stool and browse patterns if you’re so inclined. Here, you can find fabric tape and glue. Some of the patterns were not as expensive as I thought they’d become.

At “my” Walmart, you can purchase a gun and hunting or fishing license, but not tires. You can purchase food (even custom order a cake), but I found no scales to weigh oneself. You can have your hair cut or replace your eye-glasses. You can put in laps for exercise. You can ask the clerk in the electronics department to install the minutes on your prepaid phone and he or she will do it. I suppose aspects of small town life continue to characterize this store.

One unique feature, was the dressing area. Typically, an employee sits at the desk in this “unisex” dressing area. You’ll see stalls for women, the disabled and men all in this centralized area. And, while most women might not give a second thought to trying on menswear in a women’s room, other shoppers might have a different set of challenges. I’m curious how many of us would utilize a unisex dressing area. And I’m curious to know or hear about your experiences at your neighborhood Walmart. Is it a love/hate relationship?

This post was originally published on the blog Rags Against The Machine.

Terri Lowry teaches English composition, literature and creative writing at a community college in the Midwest. She is a published novelist, short story writer, poet and journalist. She is the mother of 3 biological daughters (all grown), 5 steps, and has 8 grandchildren. She’s been blogging at Rags against the Machine since July 2010.