The tags turned inwards

A small boutique in Suez has a window full of dresses and not one price in it. Ask the owner why and she seems surprised by the question. We do not do that here, she says. People come in and ask.

Many do not come in. Some worry the dress costs more than they have and would rather not face the embarrassment of asking. Some are passing with ten minutes to spare and no reason to stop. The window shows them something they want and gives them no way to know whether it is for them.

The interesting part is not whether prices in a window are a good idea. It is her answer. We do not do that here. As if it were a law, or the weather.

It was a choice. Her father ran the shop before her and never priced the window, perhaps for a reason that made sense then, perhaps for no reason at all. She took over the shop and the habit came with the keys. She never sat down and decided against prices. But by never deciding, she decided anyway, every morning she dressed the window and left the tags turned inwards.

Most of what we do on repeat is like this, from the hour we open to the way we answer a complaint before we have heard the end of it. These things feel like part of who we are. They began as choices, often ones nobody remembers making.

That is the hopeful part. If a habit is a decision, it can be made again. Not out of guilt about the old one, just with open eyes this time.

Every morning she leaves the tags turned in, she is choosing again. She simply has not noticed that she gets a vote.