Those big white things.
They should have a name like sporklot or frangum. Almost any one-word name would do. Whoever invented them should be forced to wear them 24/7 for all eternity.
I long for the good old days before these… (I’ll choose frangum) …frangums were invented. I hear tell you could get in and out of a department store in less than half the time and never once did a shopper going through a doorway set off a siren or have a mechanical voice tell you to return to the store immediately.
Yes, I’m talking about those big plastic white anti-theft devices that they bolt through your finest delicates. They jam those suckers through silk or satin, linen or tulle, it matters not.
They place them on bra straps and in the armpits of blouses, through the waistbands of pants and skirts and through the bodices of lace camisoles. I’ve seen them rammed through cowhide leaving a perfect bull’s-eye of damaged leather to live forever on an expensive designer purse.
They hurt.
They stab a woman’s sensitive breast tissue and scrape at armpits and groins. They make even the most expensive suit look like it’s been wired for sound or worse, make a pair of beautifully tailored slacks look like they come complete with their own erection.
You are forced to buy the item BEFORE you can see the the true extent of the damage the frangum has done. Despite what the salesperson tells you, “The fabric will bounce right back and the hole will disappear,” – it ain’t the case. It’s a matter now of if you can live with the damage the frangum made or not.
If you really love the item you rationalize. The hole is tiny and in the seam area, I can go home and stitch it up. Or, who’s going to notice that hole in the back of my jeans? Or I can patch it from the inside and no one will see it.
Frangums are now bonuses that come with all our garments. They make trying on clothes a painful experience and leave the shopper always wondering: What will this look like when I get it home and try it on again, without the frangum?
If by any chance you sneak by the mechanical lady and the WWII sirens, and manage to escape the store with the frangum in tact. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to remove the frangum by yourself and return to the store for professional help.
A few brave souls have attempted this feat but as they say on TV – not to be tried at home. Unless you own your own private frangum-remover, you will end up with shredded fabric or a hole the size of a hibiscus blossom. Your new purchase will be destroyed and it’s hard to return a brand new item that looks like it’s been attacked by pit bulls. Most stores will just tell you that you damaged the item after purchase and they aren’t responsible.
So again, rules, laws and even frangums are created for the lowest common denominator. Most of us don’t steal but all of us deal with the Gee Dee frangums.
They should have a name like sporklot or frangum. Almost any one-word name would do. Whoever invented them should be forced to wear them 24/7 for all eternity.
I long for the good old days before these… (I’ll choose frangum) …frangums were invented. I hear tell you could get in and out of a department store in less than half the time and never once did a shopper going through a doorway set off a siren or have a mechanical voice tell you to return to the store immediately.
Yes, I’m talking about those big plastic white anti-theft devices that they bolt through your finest delicates. They jam those suckers through silk or satin, linen or tulle, it matters not.
They place them on bra straps and in the armpits of blouses, through the waistbands of pants and skirts and through the bodices of lace camisoles. I’ve seen them rammed through cowhide leaving a perfect bull’s-eye of damaged leather to live forever on an expensive designer purse.
They hurt.
They stab a woman’s sensitive breast tissue and scrape at armpits and groins. They make even the most expensive suit look like it’s been wired for sound or worse, make a pair of beautifully tailored slacks look like they come complete with their own erection.
You are forced to buy the item BEFORE you can see the the true extent of the damage the frangum has done. Despite what the salesperson tells you, “The fabric will bounce right back and the hole will disappear,” – it ain’t the case. It’s a matter now of if you can live with the damage the frangum made or not.
If you really love the item you rationalize. The hole is tiny and in the seam area, I can go home and stitch it up. Or, who’s going to notice that hole in the back of my jeans? Or I can patch it from the inside and no one will see it.
Frangums are now bonuses that come with all our garments. They make trying on clothes a painful experience and leave the shopper always wondering: What will this look like when I get it home and try it on again, without the frangum?
If by any chance you sneak by the mechanical lady and the WWII sirens, and manage to escape the store with the frangum in tact. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to remove the frangum by yourself and return to the store for professional help.
A few brave souls have attempted this feat but as they say on TV – not to be tried at home. Unless you own your own private frangum-remover, you will end up with shredded fabric or a hole the size of a hibiscus blossom. Your new purchase will be destroyed and it’s hard to return a brand new item that looks like it’s been attacked by pit bulls. Most stores will just tell you that you damaged the item after purchase and they aren’t responsible.
So again, rules, laws and even frangums are created for the lowest common denominator. Most of us don’t steal but all of us deal with the Gee Dee frangums.
posted by mary bishop | 7:27 AM
3 Comments:
Tell me, have you tried removing them yourself? And how DID you get away without setting anything off?
I recall being about 12-13 years old and going to Saks with my mother. It was spring, but it was so cold. And we found a black velvet cape for me in there. Since we were going to the opera later and it was soooo cold, my parents decided to let me wear the cape out. So we paid for it, yada yada yada. My mother and I were standing on the street corner, waiting for my father to bring the car around, when suddently we're surrounded by policemen and security guards. They had forgotten to remove the frangum and thought that I was a shoplifter. So my mother's rummaging through her purse just in case she has the receipt (which she's sure my father has) and I'm practically in tears as they're interrogating me. FINALLY my father pulled up (my daddy, the knight in shining minivan) and produced the receipt. They apologized, led us back to the store, had it removed, and left. Ever since, I check to verify the removed it off of every item I purchase (or better yet, order by catalogue or internet whenever possible).
I never removed one but the husband of a friend (who is very handy and has many tools) attempted to remove it and ended up ruining the item...
I do know if you put the frangum in your armpit you can go out the door without setting of the mechanical lady and the sirens.
Now there's a bit of trivia we all should know!
Oh, I must clarify...I found that out from a retail buyer who told me people steal the tool, then the clothes and somehow the armpit is a great place to stash the frangum!
Oh, Poor wee echrai in her special new cape. Those bad ole policemen shouldn't have picked on you. I'd have beaten them up for frightening you and your Mommy. HooRay for Dads in Minivans! BOoo for Frangums on our clothing.
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