Today’s Opinionist comes to us from local freelance writer Lisa Gschwandtner.

DC is frequently described as “Hollywood for ugly people.” People who live here tend to resent this characterization. I am not one of those people. Before I came to DC, I lived among the fashionable and the glamorous in New York, and I can say this: You can’t compete with the 20-something girls employed by Conde Nast publications whose outfits belie their $30,000-a-year salaries. Don’t even try.

Coming as I do from humble fashion roots, DC is much more my speed. In my hometown of Stafford, Virginia, the Spotsylvania (“Spotsy”) Mall was virtually the only place to shop. Its most upscale department store was a Southern chain called Leggett’s (now known by its equally inexcusable moniker, “Belk”). We had a Sears, of course, as well as its cheaper, tackier cousin, Montgomery Wards. The locals had such affection for the latter store that children grew up calling it only by its nickname, “Monkey Wards.” When this giant among suppliers of polyester-blend materials finally fell to its knees — done in by a flashy young upstart called Wal-Mart — the local newspaper announced the store’s demise with all the reverence of a 21-gun salute. By the time I was in middle school, the Spotsy Mall broke through the style barrier by acquiring both a Limited Express and a GAP in a single calendar year. Then Hecht’s came along. Bewildered mall-goers gathered at the Chic Wig. Who would be the next to go? (Please, God, not the Casual Male Big and Tall.)

My mother still buys underwear and nightgowns at Belk, but she has the good grace to recognize how low she is stooping. A few weekends ago, she called to invite me to Tyson’s Corner. She needed clothes that she could wear outside the house. I met her at Bloomingdale’s, and we inhaled lunch the way marathon runners knock back cups of water. When you have to drive more than forty minutes to buy an even remotely flattering pair of pants, every second counts. Riding the escalators, we surveyed the bright colors, the mirrored surfaces and shining lights. “When you come up here to shop,” she mused, “you realize just how crappy everything in Stafford is.”