In one shop an old gal behind the counter was educating one of the younger generation on knitwear identification, declaring "It's a sweatervest...you know, like Rick Santorum wears!"
In another a gaggle of teen girls was clucking about trying things on. I paid no mind, immersed in digging through a row of milk crates partially hidden beneath a counter, prime territory for good book finds although today I was doomed to disappointment. One of their phones 'rang', in that way that sounds like either a boom box with blown speakers or someone with their Walkman headphones turned up way too high (he said, instantly dating himself).
Her friend asked rather breathlessly "what did he say?"
"HE SAID HE WANTS TO FCUK YOU IN YOUR ASSHOLE!" phone girl nearly shouted, standing about five feet from the prim 60-something woman manning the cash register.
This triggered a hysterical gale of girl noises, as they simultaneously sought the perfect blend of appalled hilarity. A consensus joke/excuse for their crass companion rapidly emerged-
"I'm sorry, SHE HAS A REALLY BAD CASE OF TOURETTES!"
"Yah! It's REALLY BAD!"
"She can't help it!"
"WHY DO YOU TALK WHEN YOU'RE TRYING ON CLOTHES, GAWD!"
I doubtless participated in similar ribald hijinks in my long-departed youth, but I like to think my taste level, or at least the quality of excuses, inhabited a more elevated plane.