18) LUCKY 214

We were drinking coffee in a public square, when we noticed a cavalcade of well-heeled Saskatoonians thronging past us. In the land of denim and plaid, it was quite a sight to see leather briefcase toting men and swooshing skirts on women. Intrigued, we followed them inside a local storefront and to our amazement stumbled upon a bankruptcy liquidation auction in process for one of the high-end stores on the downtown strip.

I have a pentient for shopping, the thrill of the hunt, yet nothing prepared me for the odyssey of the fashion auction. For EIGHT HOURS, we hunkered down and watched the locals bidding on bins of Hugo Boss ties and Versace suits. Befriending Sarah, a back-row bidder, and incidentally the best friend of the wife of the son of the auctioneer, we learned first hand how to score the best items.

There were coat racks, and framed posters, thousands of belts, socks, pants, shirts, ties, shoes. Items were first sold individually by size, the top bidder receiving the option to purchase the entire lot, or select items from the group before the second bidder had a chance to scan the merchandise and so on and so forth.

It was probably during a round of jeans in the 44" waist group, with no end in sight, that I went home to change and escape the bone-chilling air conditioning. I returned to find Ameera thrusting her little number 214 in the air with abandon, a pile of loot propped up on the chair before her. As the night dragged on, and cartons of food from the local Chinese restaurant 'Ding Dong,' cups from Starbucks and wrappers from A&W amassed on the floor beneath the fold up chairs, the professionals sipping from flasks of soup and unpacking sandwiches from coolers, that the camaraderie snowballed into outright enthusiasm and a little community was born from the depths of hunger, fatigue and a collective passion for consumerism. There was cheering and clapping, and advice on colour and size. Never had the act of shopping, even in the open market, ever been so communal; never had the validation of a purchase come from so many, so loudly, so immediately.

As $500 shoes were selling for $15, Ameera clambered upon a table and thrust herself into the melee to fight for gifts for her husband's pending birthday. My own big purchase of the night, a $1300 alligator bag bought for $100 produced a swarm of bidders who had missed the luggage round during a smoke-break and tried to ply their bartering skills to deprive me of my shopping glory - all no avail.

By midnight, with a box brimming with finds ($4000 of merchandise for under $400), we reluctantly headed out into the street. Joe, the auctioneer who had been at his microphone since 9am, without a bathroom break, without anything more than a few sips of coffee, was still full in voice, rolling the escalating prices off his tongue, a seamless string of numbers and words, the song of a true salesman: "Do I hear 15, 15, 15, that's right I said 15, to the gentleman in the back, 20, 20, 20 do I hear 20, street value of $400 dollars look at those colours, thank you at 20, and now 25, 25, 25, who doesn't want this for a Christmas gift, it might look good on you sir, thank you, at 30, 30, 30, and remember folks absolutely everything can be sold on e-bay at a profit . . . ."