Dear Nordstrom dressing rooms,
Why? Why are you?
I’ve been meaning to write this for a very long time. Years, in fact. It’s just that every time I have an experience inside of you, I tend to banish it from my mind immediately and not allow myself to relive it (that’s what he said). Therefore, I continuously forget that I need to write you a public letter expressing you how much and why I hate you. However, I was reminded of your infamy this past weekend when I exchanged a series of texts with a girlfriend who was “having a breakdown at the mall,” and when I asked her why, she simply said “I just tried stuff on at Nordstrom.”
When my 5 foot, 105 pound friend who cries maybe twice a year is having a breakdown after leaving the Nordstrom dressing rooms – WE HAVE A PROBLEM.
It’s your lighting. It’s your carpeting. It’s the 360 degree mirror that makes it impossible to escape myself. I just don’t understand how such a prestigious, high-end department store could screw something up as big as the dressing rooms. What are you playing at, Nordstrom? What’s with this personal vendetta to wave incredibly attractive clothes of every color, shape, and material in front of our faces, then take an aggressive and offensive dump right on our self-esteem via the dressing room? WHAT DID WE EVER DO TO YOU?
No matter who the victim is, they are just that – a victim. A girl who works out six days a week, has clearly defined abdominal muscles, and 5% body fat will come out of those dressing rooms doubting why she even tries anymore. But what do you expect when you combine terrible lighting with a mirror that captures each and every angle anyone could ever see of you? Every pimple – no matter how minuscule – any inkling of cellulite, any weird little body lumps, any questionable looking ANYTHING is seen in those mirrors, in that lighting. Just when you thought “Hey! I look pretty good!” in your own bedroom mirror, with your own bedroom lighting, all hopes are dashed once you set foot into the Nordstrom dressing room.
This isn’t in my head, trust me. I’ve done my research via Facebook statuses and numerous in-person conversations with various persons of the female persuasion. Nordstrom dressing rooms acting as confidence-ruiners is a universal truth.
And oh! The things you will mess with on your face in that mirror. Any time I or one of my friends walk out of that dressing room, you can bet our faces have red spots on them, a high sign of having been picked at. You will see things that aren’t there and cause your skin a week of recovery from getting too close to those mirrors. And don’t even get me started on the actual dressing room doors themselves. Hey, the 1980s called – they want their too short on both ends dressing room doors back. Not to mention how the doors are TJ Maxx style, with slates wider than your great aunt’s hips and that don’t necessarily give you full privacy. I mean, you sell Louboutin heels and $2,000 Alexander McQueen tops – WHERE IS THE DISCONNECT HERE, GUYS?
The only time I will ever feel the need to see how my backside looks is the day I choose my wedding dress. Otherwise, I don’t want to know. What does my ass looking good in a pair of jeans do for me? I mean, I guess if your ass is all you have then it’s important. But I notice people based on their fronts, not their backs. Not their left side or right side or from their hand-on-hip pose. 360 degree mirrors just make everything worse. “I mean, it looks pretty cute straight on, but my left side looks weird, and when I’m turned toward the east but looking over my right shoulder, I look like Quasimoto. I can’t do this! I’M HEINOUS! SANCTUARYYYY!”
Nordstrom dressing rooms are like being outside, on an overcast day, in front of your crush, and dying a slow death inside knowing he can see every blemish, every ounce of makeup, and every upper lip hair on your face.
In conclusion, it is a tragedy that a name as reputable as Nordstrom didn’t do and still hasn’t done everything in their power to ensure patrons leave their stores feeling nothing short of fabulous. I hope this letter reaches someone of importance within your company and that you send me a gift card to make up for my countless number of crying breakdowns via your dressing rooms, so that I can use it to go have another one soon.
With love, respect, and diminished confidence inflicted by you,
Emma 
