Chapter 64: Chapter 64 Balenciaga
In the Balenciaga boutique.
Before I came in, I wondered how expensive a pair of silk stockings could possibly be. Multiplying the price of ordinary ones by ten or even dozens of times, would they sell for a few hundred yuan a pair?
Entering the store was an eye-opener. The average price of stockings here was in the four-figure range.
And stockings aren’t like regular clothes. Even if something is a bit expensive, an office worker can grit their teeth and afford a piece or two to wear for holidays and important events. They also aren’t like luxury bags that cost tens of thousands; if you can’t afford one new, you can always find a secondhand one. Carrying it still lets you put on airs.
Stockings, however, are consumables. A single pair has a lifespan of less than a week. In the hands of a stocking-tearing fiend like Sun Dasheng, their lifespan is even more fleeting—a one-time use. It’s truly a luxury the average person can’t afford. In terms of quality, there was hardly a difference between the stockings sold here for thousands and those sold online for a few dozen yuan. Indeed, luxury goods are nothing more than consumables to the wealthy.
"Sir, the lady with you has such long, straight legs. Our stockings would be a perfect match for her, and you’ll have quite a feast for your eyes at home," the sales associate said, her voice dripping with sweetness.
Having tried on a basic pair of black stockings, Xiang Yiren stood before the fitting mirror, pleased as she showed off her beautiful legs. Not every leg shape looks good in stockings; only long, straight legs are actually enhanced by them.
"Aside from this classic style, we also have polka-dot, striped, lettered, and fishnet patterns. We carry every variety available on the market," the associate continued. "This lady’s long legs are the envy of us girls. Why not try them all? You never know, one of them might just hit your particular fetish."
Wow! These sales associates are certainly well-informed these days. They even know about fetishes?
"Then bring out one of each style you mentioned for her to try," Sun Dasheng said.
"Right away!" Encountering such a generous big spender, the sales associate’s smile became even more sincere. "These styles all come in basic, semi-luxury, and top-luxury tiers. Which level were you interested in?" she asked, adding, "The basic versions can all be tried on in the store."
Oh? All this fuss over a simple pair of stockings? Dividing them into so many styles is just a way to swindle money from suckers.
"Go ahead and introduce them all," Sun Dasheng said noncommittally.
"All these types of stockings are priced the same for their respective tiers," the sales associate began. "The basic tier is 1,999, and the semi-luxury tier is 4,999."
After stating the semi-luxury price, she glanced cautiously at Sun Dasheng, hesitating to reveal the top-luxury price for fear of scaring him away. As an experienced salesperson, even she felt the prices were extortionate—treating the customer like a pig for slaughter. By only mentioning the first two tiers, if the customer found them acceptable and was willing to buy, it was a way for both parties to save face. It wasn’t the first time a less experienced associate had blurted out the top-tier price, causing customers to walk out on the spot. Even the ones who bought a pair or two, pressured by their female companions, never came back for more.
"Keep going. What about the top-luxury tier?" Sun Dasheng prompted, his expression completely calm.
Xiang Yiren, who was beside him, also noticed the sales associate’s hesitation. Clasping his arm, she chuckled softly. "Don’t you worry, just tell us everything. This man here is a big boss; money is no object."
Her tactic exposed, the sales associate’s face reddened slightly. She quickly bowed. "I’m so sorry!"
"It’s fine. Please continue," Sun Dasheng said, gesturing for her to straighten up.
Color returned to the sales associate’s face, and she began her introduction with renewed enthusiasm. "The top-luxury model is also a limited edition in our store. To purchase it, you not only have to pay the price of 9,999 per pair, but you also need to become a ’friend of our brand’ to even be eligible to buy it."
As expected of a luxury store; they all pull the same kinds of stunts. Ultimately, if you want to buy a limited-edition item, you first have to buy a bunch of their other miscellaneous products.
He looked over at Xiang Yiren, who was now holding the top-luxury pair, her eyes shining as she admired them, completely captivated.
Sun Dasheng was a bit speechless. What is the magic behind luxury items like these—bags, stockings, cosmetics—that gives them such a powerful hold over women? Do they genuinely like high-quality things? Or do they just like the exorbitant prices? Could you sell a woman a simple rock, as long as it was packaged nicely enough and priced high enough?
"If you like them, go ahead and try them on," Sun Dasheng said.
"Thank you, dear!" Xiang Yiren beamed, turning to head for the fitting room.
However, she was stopped by the sales associate.
"I’m sorry, sir," the woman said apologetically. "Our top-luxury models cannot be tried on." Seeing the displeasure on her customer’s face, she quickly explained, "Stockings aren’t like other clothes or hats. Once they’ve been tried on, they can’t be sold again."
"The sales staff are just worried that if you try them on and don’t buy them, the cost will be docked from their wages," a new voice chimed in from elsewhere in the store, seemingly explaining on the associate’s behalf. "It’s not impossible to try them on. Just buy them first, and then you can try them on, right?"
Sun Dasheng looked up to see the newcomer was Fan Yi, the woman he had just run into in the parking lot.
What are the odds of a coincidence like this? We just saw each other in the parking lot, and now we meet again just a short while later? Judging by her tone, she doesn’t sound like a customer. She sounds like she’s here to stir up trouble.
Before he could dwell on it, the sales associate hurriedly interjected, "Miss, that’s not what’s happening."
"Oh? Then why are customers allowed to try on the basic models?" Fan Yi’s retort left the associate speechless.
"Miss, our store has a policy," the store manager said, stepping in to defuse the situation. She sent the younger sales associate to attend to other customers, as this matter was now beyond her handling. "We have a daily quota for basic model try-ons. It isn’t as if they can be tried on without limit."
"Oh, is that so?" Fan Yi replied, her face a mask of disbelief.
Facing this sudden troublemaker, the manager fought the urge to tear her limb from limb. For the sake of a major client and a large sale, she forced herself to remain calm. With a smile, she turned to Sun Dasheng and said, "As the store manager, I have a daily quota of one try-on for our top-luxury models. You can let your companion go ahead and try them."
The words were beautifully delivered, but inside, her heart was bleeding. She had no such privilege. If the customer tried the stockings on and decided not to buy them, she would have to purchase them with her own money. She was taking a gamble.
Even the troublemaker, Fan Yi, was a bit stunned. This was the first time she had ever heard of such a quota. She had spoken with such certainty because she used to work as a sales clerk for Balenciaga, albeit at a different branch. Her provocative comments were simply a test to see if the man was genuinely wealthy or just a phony putting on an act to swindle women. After all, it wasn’t uncommon in modern society for men to rent luxury cars to deceive women. She had to confirm his actual net worth before she could tailor her approach.
This was a basic professional requirement for a mature woman on the make: be cautious and vigilant. She wasn’t like some naive young girl, new to the world, who could be easily swindled out of her money and body.