Supersized

Though it's not my favorite movie of all time, Breakfast at Tiffany's is definitely in the top ten. Maybe it's because I adore Audrey Hepburn (who doesn't?), maybe it's because I secretly want to be a '60s callgirl, maybe it's because I agree with Holly Golightly's philosophy in refusing to belong to anyone, or maybe I'm just in love with George Peppard. But in one of the cutest sequences of the movie, Holly tells Paul (Fred) about Tiffany's, a place he's never been, before they go to the five-and-dime to shoplift in a really adorably heartwarming way.

"...The only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there."

The other day, I was given the unique opportunity to explain to two Europeans what a SuperTarget is, and I found myself waxing lyrical about the place in much the same fashion.

"It's... a place where you can buy everything!" I gushed. "Let me put it this way: I went there once to buy something for dinner, and I ended up buying a dress! You can spend your whole day there and buy clothes and makeup and accessories and New York Times bestsellers and groceries and housewares and auto parts and toys and electronics! It makes me feel happy and like I can improve myself! The prices aren't the greatest, but you put up with it because the ads are so artsy and it has everything you never knew you needed!"

The Dutch guy wasn't too impressed.

"But why would you want a huge store that sells everything?" he kept asking. "It's a little excessive. Would it kill you to go a grocer's, then an auto parts store and make a couple of extra trips? And is that really the thing you miss most about home? Don't you have any friends or anything?"

He then started mocking the U.S. and our obsession with everything "super": SuperTarget, SuperWalmart, supersize, supermodel, Superman. I told him the choice of "super" as a prefix to already-existing brands was an obvious choice, because everything's just clearly better than it was 10 years ago. Back in 1998, you couldn't go to a Target and purchase donuts and a dress (well, okay, you could, but you wouldn't have nearly the same selection of donuts you have today). It does, however, bring up an interesting point: what happens after "super"? Ultra? Superlative? Utmost? Dandy? Tremendous? Supersuper? Will progress just... end because they can't think of a good-enough adjective to capture how beyond-Super it is? What a terrifying thought.

Regardless, I've had to go shop for food, makeup, clothes and souvenirs thus far, and these have all been separate shopping trips because stores are tiny here. Supersizing is so American. On the plus side, it would have saved me a few sunscreen/clothing/book trips. And maybe the locals don't know what they're missing. But I do. And it's going to be a long few months without Archer Farms salt-and-vinegar potato chips and Isaac Mizrahi shoes...