Years ago one of Baltimore’s big department stores — this was way before my time — was Bernheimer’s. They started out in a smallish Victorian building and later built a gorgeous, five-story colonnaded palace in Fayette street, finally building a gigantic but bland store building at the Busy Corner. The new undertaking was a little too much and seems to have bankrupted the store; it didn’t last five years after the new construction and the two combined buildings became the May Company’s main flagship Baltimore store.

The thing with Bernheimer’s was that, although it arguably had one of the most beautiful store buildings in the city, it was considered tacky. Their wares, apparently, were perfectly nice but inexpensive and it just didn’t have the cachet of Hutzler’s or O’Neill’s. The populace couldn’t deny its Teuto-Marylandish tightfistedness and people shopped there anyway, but started asking ask the delivery wagon to stop around the corner rather than in front of the house, so that no one would know they’d been shopping at Bernheimer’s. Mr. Bernheimer retaliated by having all his trucks painted with the legend “What This Truck Is Delivering Has Been Paid For,” reflecting his no-credit policy.

Cheapness is still rather a matter of pride in these parts; the New Yorker puffs up with glee over the multi-figure price tags of Saks and Barney’s (what is it with those stores anyway? I’ve only ever seen absolutely trashy things in either) but the Baltimorean, complimented on a new dress, will smugly point out that she got it for half price at a Hecht Company clearance sale (sadly, the only thing resembling a department store that we have left).

And so it should come as no great surprise that we’ve welcomed Wal-Mart with open arms. I’ve been anti-Wal-Mart for quite a while now. They’ve sucked the life out of more small towns than the Depression did. Wal-Mart is an absolutely soulless, heartless organization masquerading, with its relentless smiley face, as everybody’s pal.

But God save me, they’re cheap. And, surprisingly, they recently built a store inside city limits. So how could I stop myself from going to Wal-Mart periodically? I mean, last week I actually got two fairly presentable casual shirts for $3.00 apiece, and shampoo for 79¢. It’s irresistible!

Except, that is, for the people that shop at Wal-Mart. If the crowd there is indicative of those who shopped at Bernheimer’s, I know why they went out of business. I found another reason to like Wal-Mart: every time I go there, I am easily the best-built and most aristocratic person in the store. It doesn’t matter whether it’s the one in admittedly déclassé South Baltimore or the store in comparatively tony Hunt Valley. Those stores are an absolute beacon for every overweight high school dropout between the two oceans, and I always feel very good about myself after looking at these people.

On that same Wal-Mart foray last week I saw what I now consider to be the ultimate Wal-Mart shopper. I know that her name was Darlene because her skeletally-thin boyfriend/husband/brother called her that. Darlene probably weighs in at about 250 lbs., which would be fine if she were a little taller than 5'4". When viewed she didn’t seem to have washed her longish hair in recent memory. In light of all this, she had elected to wear a tank top and stretchy jeans. Airbrushed across the... well, there’s no nice way to put this... ass cheeks of the stretchy jeans was her personal statement of self: “BOOTYLICIOUS.”

I’ll still go to those stores occasionally because they’re amazingly cheap, but I think I will start asking for unmarked bags. And if they ever start delivery service, I’m certainly going to have them park around the corner.