Icing

I totally get that Icing is intended for the high school aged crown, but does that mean I should be shamed for actually shopping here at the ripe age of 30? If so, then bring the shaming on. I don’t know what it is about this place, but I love it. I love the ginormous selection inside the tiniest 4 walls one could have built to house said selection.
Walking through here, I always feel like bull in a china shop. Seriously. I’ll spot a necklace and turn to it, my purse handle will get stuck on a rack of hot pink and green earrings and things start falling. I’ll turn to pick them up and my jumbo-​sized elbow will knock over a basket of clearance rings. Needless to say, whichever Icing store I go to, the staff is never too excited to have me on the premises. Whatever. Eat it. So I’m ancient to the part-​time working high school gal behind the counter and totally encroaching on her space. I could care less.
I always find some fabulous necklaces here. Earrings and bracelets– meh I could take or leave them– usually the latter of the two. I love the head band and hair adornments as well. Everyone, no matter what age (yes, I’m talking to you 16 year old, eye-​rolling, twit behind the counter) can appreciate, own and wear fabulous flowered or feathered bands to dress up a hair style.
Let it be known that I heart the Icing, just not its employees or the youngsters that are always inside the space when I seem to enter. So, I propose we make a «senior-​citizen-​day» or sorts. That’s right Icing. I say you make one day a week OUR day. Ban the youngsters and let us come in and peruse the selection. We may be older, but we have credit cards and can do a lot of damage with them.