City Sports on Thayer is officially closed. This is devastating for me, as I’ve lived around Providence my whole life and relied on good ole CS for all my running apparel. It’s the end of an era. Last week, I made my final journey down to City Sports to take advantage of the super sale prices. I came back with a pair of pants, a shirt, and a mannequin leg.
I first walked into City Sports and was overwhelmed by the amount of people. Everyone was pushing each other out of the way to get Nikes, clothes were flying, and I think I saw a portal to Hell open in the floor. I stumbled into a rack with $90 Alternative Apparel sweatpants marked down to $24.99 and swiped them before an old lady with a bowl cut could. I’ve always wanted a pair of drop-crotch pants. They wouldn’t have looked good on her anyway, so I was doing society a favor. I then found an orange Oiselle running shirt, originally $28.99, marked down to $14.50. I rejoiced in the bargains I had found.
Any other day, I would have checked out at that moment and left happily with my purchases. But something felt different this time; my duties in City Sports seemed unfinished. My heart guided me up to the second floor. I walked slowly up the stairs, not sure what to expect. When I reached the landing, I found what my heart needed.
A mannequin army. The dynamic was clear: all the soldiers were standing around like chickens without their heads while their captain fiercely looked into the eyes of whoever came up those stairs. The mannequins were $80 a pop, and believe me, I considered it, but I could buy, like, 16 teas at Tealuxe with that kind of cash. All I knew was that I needed to go home with something from the second floor.
A quick scan of the room revealed boxes of hangers and shelving on the back wall filled with $3 mannequin legs of all shapes and sizes. Tan legs, blue legs, clear legs, tall legs, short legs. Alas, I understood my destiny. I was supposed to buy a mannequin leg during my last trip to City Sports on Thayer.
Now, I don’t know a lot about mannequin legs or their pricing, but I’m taking Intro to Economics so I’m basically an expert on all things finance. A quick cost-benefit analysis revealed what a great deal I was getting. My mannequin leg, dubbed Legolas, can be used to model a cute shoe. It can serve as a reminder not to skip leg day. I can say “my leg” like that guy in Spongebob. I can turn it into a Holiday Leg, or make it a Christmas Leg instead of having a Christmas tree. Heck, I could even create that lamp from A Christmas Story if I wanted to.
Legolas is shown here modeling a vintage Ariel sock and a snowman hat.
I went to the cash register and placed my pants and shirt on the counter. I put the leg down, looked the cashier dead in the eyes, and said, “I need this.” He asked me if I wanted my leg in a bag, and I told him I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Image via, and Sam Crausman.