I am a proud third-generation Bloomingdale's customer and if I could move in or have my house re-decorated to match the black and white flooring, I would.

But even I have been keeping my distance from the department stores with the credit crisis (mine). Unless, of course, there's a sale. And I've noticed that not all sales are created equal.

While snapping up super-marked down cashmere sweaters at the pre-Christmas sale at Bloomie's earlier this season, my gal pal and I picked up on the sales gap right away: the men's sweaters were cheaper to begin with, and marked off even more. (That worked out well for my husband, not so much for me. I left the still quite expensive cashmere for myself on the rack. He got two.)

Another friend who was helping her BF shop noticed a similar patter at Macy's: menswear markdowns so low the silk and cashmere pullovers were practically cheaper than the lattes they picked up at Starbucks to fuel the spree. The women's department doesn't even have price tags that go down that low. Trust me, I've looked.

I have spent a large portion of my life finding good deals and become a seasoned shopper. It's a skill. My husband can design houses. I know how to shop. So why does he get all the benefits without any of the work?

OK, sure, I know I can find a $4 sweater at the bargain bin at Mervyn's, or drive to the middle of the desert to paw through off-season, deeply discounted threads from last year's "it" designer, or buy in bulk at H & M. But Macy's?

Maybe I don't have the right perspective. After all, in my mother's day, she wasn't allowed to wear pants -- and this was in high school. Maybe I should just feel lucky to get to choose whatever I want to wear, no matter the price. But is that what my sisters of the last generation fought for? Equality with a higher price tag? I know that feminism had a cost, I just didn't realize I'd be paying for it every time I shopped. Imagine pricing by sex for other necessities: What's next: men's and women's gas prices? His and her bar tabs?