I was not happy visiting here. I don't need the sales associate hovering over me and watching me, following me in close proximity, asking me if I need her to hold what I just picked up. I was with my dad; I am not a teenager. I was wearing a laptop bag, so not something that can be opened without a large velcro ripping sound; there were no sneaky pockets on my green jacket. I can afford to buy pricey stationery, thank you. I told her straight, "I'm not going to steal anything, so you don't have to shop WITH me, okay?" She was like, "Oh, it's just for service." Uh, okay; serve me when I bring the stuff up with my big fat vegan leather wallet to pay for it. It's a store narrower than a high school hallway; I take three steps to the cash desk. You can watch me from there. I know my surpassing beauty something invites salivating and bewitched strangers to come and follow me to be in halo of my perfumed mystique, but be a bit subtle about it, seriously. Not going back. Spent an obscene amount of money at the gashapon hobby shop instead, but bought some stuff to make my point. read more