How Target Became My Happy Place

Target used to be just a place to me.

It was a place my brothers and I went when we were bored: "Hey, you want to go poke around at

A future TargetExpress. Now you can live even closer to a Target than I do!

Target?" and it was a place to buy toilet paper and toothpaste.  Over the years they have undergone major re-branding and are now the go-to shop of basic bitches everywhere. But I missed a lot of those years (and designer capsule collections) when we moved to Ohio.


The Target we lived closest to was outside of my anxiety disorder dictated driving radius. It was located in a popular shopping center with busy intersections. It was just beyond the local Walmart that was certainly within my radius and had a more direct route. So if I needed something the drugstore didn't have I went there instead of Target.

I would pull into the parking lot, sit for a minute and collect myself, (even the drive to Walmart was a bit nerve-wracking). I would take a deep breath and stare wistfully beyond the trees thinking: "If I was stronger, braver, and a normal person I could make it to Target." Then I'd snort: "Yeah and spend more money too! You're safer here in Walmart where there is no Starbucks." Slowly I became accustomed to life without Target. It certainly was not my happy place.

We now live so close to a Target it is practically in our front yard. To be honest we are a little too close if you ask David about how this has affected our budget. But (in part) I wanted it this way.

I knew when we moved I would be battling my anxiety. My anxiety unchecked could paralyze me and trap me in the house so I specified to the real estate office that we needed to be close to basic amenities. The amenities had to be accessible by a road that is not a freeway.

I also knew that in the summer it's approximately 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit (5537 Celsius for you Canadians) here in Texas. I had nightmares of battling it out on the congested freeway in the heat trying to get a simple gallon of milk. So we bought the fixer-upper near the Target.

It was in that first hellish week I spent in Texas that Target became my happy place.

If you believe "Corporations are people, my friend" as Mitt Romney once proclaimed, then Target became my best friend. Target was there for me when I was alone, terrified, and in need. If it wasn't for Target I don't know what would have happened.

I needed Target because Target told me everything was going to be okay: the world still turns, people still need $5 dollar solid color v-neck tees. I signed up for Cartwheel because Target told me it was the best thing I could do for my wallet.

Cartwheel was great because not only did I need to re-stock a house with cleaning supplies, I also needed food. I had a cat to take care of so I needed to dig my heels in and persevere.  My Aunt, Uncle, and best friend were here for the worst weekend but I needed someone daily. That person was Target.

Let me tell you: it was magical.

Target was bright, clean, and air-conditioned. The employees would smile and chat with me. When I walked down the frozen food aisles the lights triggered by sensors would turn on in the cases and it was like living in a musical.

I could buy a latte! I could look at shoes! I could stand next to a fellow shopper and squeal: "Oh these are cute!" and she would say: "I know, right!" There were times when I felt so tired and desolate I thought I would break down in tears right next to the vacuum cleaners. But I willed myself not to because I didn't want Target to see me like that.

We talk a lot of trash about how evil corporations are because they certainly are sometimes. But there is one thing corporations know how to do: provide a consistent experience and product.  A customer can step into a Target in any part of the country and immediately feel at-ease and confident. Isn't that what friends are for?

Victoria Beckham celebrates the launch of her Target line. A friend of Target is a friend of mine!