When I Was Rich, I Used To Shoplift
When I was 18 I had more money than I knew what to do with. I was not part of the elite super rich, but I came into a fairly large sum of money from a modeling contract. It was a lot of money for me at the time, around $20,000.
I come from an upper middle class background and I never had to worry about anything related to money. My parents paid for my college and our family vacationed in Europe, The Bahamas and The Caribbean during summer breaks. We weren’t rich rich, but I felt rich because I received anything I asked for and was given the opportunity to experience many trips abroad which greatly expanded my worldview.
I started shoplifting when I was about 17 years old. I didn’t need to shoplift. I had plenty of money. I didn’t know anyone who did this and I certainly wasn’t raised in a family that approved of illegal activities like shoplifting. This was before the internet, so I never heard about anyone shoplifting before. None of my friends shoplifted, either. I wish I could remember what was in my brain during that first shoplifting experience. Although I don’t remember the exact thoughts, I certainly do remember the feelings.
Let me take you back to that first day I shoplifted a suit from Saks Fifth Avenue: I was seized with a volcanic feeling of rebellion and taboo. My mind was bathing in endorphins and adrenaline that lived inside dark boxes that are never supposed to be opened. I was attracted to the idea that shoplifting was wrong. I also was attracted to the idea of getting away with something illegal. I believed that rules were for other people, not me.
I figured I’d better go all out if I was going to get away with stealing from a high profile store like Saks Fifth Avenue. I raided my mother’s closet and borrowed some of her gaudy fake jewelry. I put on tons of make up, high heels and gigantic earrings. I made myself look a lot older than I was.
I made my first stop at Neiman Marcus where I bought a small item, I think it was a scarf. I needed to buy one item so I could get a bag to fill up at other stores. I might add that at this point, the clothes were beside the point. I didn’t even consider what items I chose. In fact, I didn’t really want any of these clothing items and I didn’t need them, either. I was pumped full of adrenalin and higher than I’d ever been before, which was clouding my thinking, and making the clothing choices irrelevant. (I wasn’t high on any drugs, just high on the taboo illegal experience.)
At Neiman Marcus I got the scarf in the bag.
Then, I entered Saks with the Neiman Marcus bag. I picked out several suits and other clothing items, then headed for the dressing room. I filled up my NM bag with the Saks clothes then casually walked out of the store. I’m convinced that I got away with this because of my white skin color and the way I dressed.
As I eased out of Saks, still full of volcanic brain chemicals, I thought to myself, “This is fun. This is a game I’ll be playing again.” After doing this for a while, I definitely felt that rules and laws did not apply to me. I figured if it was so easy to steal then this indicated that Saks Fifth Avenue had a terribly weak anti-theft system. I blamed the store for being so vulnerable.
I quit shoplifting after I was admitted to an Eating Disorder Unit and heard a horror story from a bulimic who was caught stealing a package of cookies. I decided it wasn’t worth the risk to continue stealing. I figured I could get my highs in different ways from then on.
I no longer shoplift, but something of this obsessional nature still lingers inside of me, I’m afraid. Around 2009, I turned to shopdropping instead of shoplifting. Shopdropping is the activity of depositing your own art or products in real stores without first consulting the management. It’s the reverse of shoplifting. I decided to do this in order to give back what I stole in my teen years.
Here’s my documentation of shopdropping from 2009, from my Blogger site (Ev Williams’ prototype for Medium):
I’ve been shopdropping at tourist stores in San Diego for quite some time. I was in Little Italy a few weeks ago, at the Noel Baza gallery and spent some time chatting with the gallery owners. I told them about my postcard activities and shopdropping tendencies and they seemed amused. Then one of the owners told me I should drop some of my postcards into the gift shop of the Museum of Contemporary Art, then write a thank-you letter to the director. What would happen? Would the director ignore my letter? Write a response? Ask to carry my cards? Politely try to get rid of me? What would happen to my postcards after they had been dropped into the store?
A huge grin spread across my face and I promised him I would follow through with his idea.
Today marks the first day that my postcards are available at the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego’s gift shop which is located in La Jolla, California.
Here’s the thank you email that was sent to Hugh Davies, Director of MCASD.
Hugh M. Davies, Ph.D., The David C. Copley Director:
Thank you so much for accepting my Patron Saint of Postcards art series in the MCASD gift shop in La Jolla. It is with a great sense of gratitude that I write to you today as I have been diligently crafting these one-of-a-kind postcards for many years. You have truly made my year brighter. If I can be of further service to you, please don’t hesitate to ask.
Your Humble Servant,
The Patron Saint of Postcards
Leah Stella Stephens
I received an email yesterday from Hugh Davies, the director of the Museum of Contemporary Art of San Diego. It goes as follows:
Thanks for your letter and your cards.
Hugh Davies
Sent from my iPhone
As a side note, I’m glad Ev Williams decided to keep Blogger up and then create Medium.
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I love you for reading my stories,
Leah AKA, Stellabelle
