Fishnets, Wal-Mart, and Ineradicable Feelings of Guilt

A few weeks ago, I found myself on a steadfast mission to track down a pair of fishnet tights. Fishnets are not a staple in my fairly conservative, slightly bookish wardrobe. I do own the occasional spaghetti strap tank top, lowish-cut halter, and above-the-knee mini skirt. But nothing quite so trendy or - dare I say - sexy as fishnet stockings.

However, in the production Chicago (in which I was performing at the time), fishnets are a necessity. Apparently, 1920's-era murderesses did not dress like school teachers. Hence my determination to find a pair of fishnet stockings.

I asked my fellow theater company members where I might find fishnets, and almost unanimously received the same reply - Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart carries the most variety. Wal-Mart's prices are the cheapest.

I boycott Wal-Mart. For some reason, after Sheryl Crow, in her song "Love is a Good Thing," insinuated that children could too easily obtain guns from Wal-Mart discount stores, my somewhat pacifist alter ego began to feel uneasy about shopping at Wal-Mart. And being a wannabe writer, musician, and avid reader, I was already wary of Wal-Mart's censorship policies.

Then I came upon the Rise Against "Prayer of the Refugee" video in which children and adults from developing countries are shown assembling products in squalid conditions that are then shipped to a Wal-Mart-type store and stamped with a "Made in the U.S.A." label.

I'll admit it. I have been swayed by liberal pop culture.

Here is where my hypocritical nature surfaces and subjects me to intense sensations of guilt. I boycott only Wal-Mart. I do not boycott The Gap, Old Navy, or Banana Republic. I run in Nike shoes, and I own Dri-Fit shorts and shirts. I enjoy the occasional trip to Disneyland, and I collect Barbies. I know these and probably almost every "American" corporation out there are linked to unfair, exploitative labor and/or employee practices. But I boycott only Wal-Mart.

I won't even try to justify my actions by saying Wal-Mart is worse than all other corporations because of its multiple unfair practices. I boycott only Wal-Mart because I, in the spirit of a true American, do not want to completely inconvenience myself. So I boycott only Wal-Mart and feel ridiculously guilty about not boycotting everything else. But, obviously, not guilty enough to do anything about it.

There came a time during my quest for fishnets that I was forced to go to Wal-Mart. I had exhausted all of my other conveniently cheap options. If Wal-Mart didn't have fishnets, I was certain I would have to spend $15 or $20 at a dance or costume shop.

To make my experience more purposeful, I equated my entrance into Wal-Mart with the conventional epic hero's descent into Hades. Would I return unblemished and noble, or would I give in to the Dark Side of the Force?

I stepped through the automatic doors, half expecting to see a kid with a .22 running up and down the aisles or a long table with sewing machines operated by 12-year-olds. Instead, I found myself staring at several empty shelves, the flourescent lights above casting an eerie purple shadow over the seemingly barren store.

I was wondering if in fact my boycott had worked, and I had run Wal-Mart out of business singlehandedly (in which case, I would have felt guilty as well, knowing that I had cost all of the Wal-Mart employees their jobs), when a clerk approached me and asked if I needed help.

"I'm looking for fishnet tights," I said, just above a whisper, not wanting anyone else to know that a professional, thirty-something school teacher would be looking for an item as risque as a pair of fishnet stockings.

"We're remodeling, so a lot of our stuff is off the shelves. I'll have to check where we moved them."

I blindly followed the clerk who led me to a rack of little girls' pink dance tights.

"I don't think any of those sizes will fit me." I said, not bothering to point out the difference between pink dance tights and fishnets.

"Hey," the clerk shouted to another group of clerks hanging out in the women's underwear section, "do we have any fishnets? This lady wants to know."

The other clerks began to murmur, "Fishnets? Fishnets? Do we carry fishnets? I've seen them at Halloween with the sexy kitten costumes . . . "

"Usually they're with the tights." One confident clerk left the befuddled herd and led me to another rack filled with an assortment of women's tights.

After studying the rack for a moment, she shrugged apologetically. "They used to be here. We must be out. Sorry."

I decided not to tell her that she didn't need to apologize, that she had just saved me from committing treason on my Wal-Mart boycott. I had emerged from my descent into Hades unscathed.

I went to a costume shop that afternoon, perfectly willing to dish out $15 or $20 for a pair of fishnets. They were $4 a piece. I bought three pairs.

"That's a good idea, buying extra pairs," the woman behind the counter said. "Fishnets are so flattering. Now you can wear them after your production."

I smiled, probably a little unenthusiastically. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that, most likely, I wouldn't be wearing them anywhere besides on stage. I mean, after all, I am a conservatively dressed elementary school teacher, right?