Need a fresh look?
A few months ago I went on some demented rant about how much money I was spending on clothes. Not that I'm regretting spending the equivalent of a small fortune of some former eastern republic on Spanish designed pret a porter, not for one minute.
It's just that, I kind of forgot to get myself a nice new coat. And now that it's getting chillier than Jade Goody's BB exit, or Danielle Lloyd's telephone for that matter, I'm left in a kind of strange position where I am desperately looking around for a particular item of clothing, and I can't, for the life of me, find it.
You would think, wouldn't you, in the city that so spectacularly celebrates the coming of the frost, that there would be an abundance of well priced, qualiity merchandise designed to keep snowflakes off the Armani, whilst decreeing to the world that the wearer has almost enough style to teach those Wags a little thing or two.
But no, I just cant find what i'm looking for.
I have tried Selfridges, every big chain including Zara, even spent a good couple of hours in every boutique in the Marais in Gay old Paris on the weekend. Even they don't make coats any more apparently.
So last night I buried my hatchet of hatred against Harvey Nichols and everything Knightsbridge and took a stroll through the overpriced, over cologned and uber rude collonnades of the most overrated shopping strip on the planet.
OK, so I just don't like Havey Nicks, the ceilings are too low. And the fact that every pooflette you'd find at GAY on a thursday night works there and thinks that their shit dont stink because they work there, just makes me see red and pink spots.
And then they didn't even have any coats either. So they suck double.
Then I went into Zara, which, as far as Zara stores go, is a pretty good one. The whole first and second floors are the womens lable, and HARK! racks racks and racks and racks of funky winter coats.
Up on the third floor however, the marvellous groovy wintercoat song went a little off key. One floor of men's label, sharing half the space with the Zara CASA and not a SINGLE coat anywhere. I actually walked around the floor 3 times, just in case my contact lenses weren't working for some reason leaving me with a white out where that fawn coloured wool coat was meant to hang, but I just kept bumping into the glass display and knocking wicker candle holders onto the floor (bad idea anyways..)
Strike two.
So then there was Harrod's. (Dramatic Pause) I HATE HARROD'S even MORE than I hate HN's. It's always CHOCKER BLOCK packed full of ageing women with hundreds of bags wandering aimlessly through halls that have absolultely NO logic as to what they're selling in them, thereby confusing the old ducks even more.
It's like Mr Al Fayid has just organised the whole store alphabetically, or around the shrine to Diana or something. I dont know. Who can explain how you can go from the Lanvin counter to the Lamb butcher in six steps? And there's this incipid stench of women's perfulme that permeates into everything. I smelled of it for hours afterwards, even after I had showered in Domestos. Seriously.. I woke up this morning, and when i went for my morning toilette, it smelled like Chanel no 5.
Anyhow, once I found menswear after having walked all over the ground, first and second floors, I actually DID find the coat that i wanted.
It was £800.
FUCK.
It's just that, I kind of forgot to get myself a nice new coat. And now that it's getting chillier than Jade Goody's BB exit, or Danielle Lloyd's telephone for that matter, I'm left in a kind of strange position where I am desperately looking around for a particular item of clothing, and I can't, for the life of me, find it.
You would think, wouldn't you, in the city that so spectacularly celebrates the coming of the frost, that there would be an abundance of well priced, qualiity merchandise designed to keep snowflakes off the Armani, whilst decreeing to the world that the wearer has almost enough style to teach those Wags a little thing or two.
But no, I just cant find what i'm looking for.
I have tried Selfridges, every big chain including Zara, even spent a good couple of hours in every boutique in the Marais in Gay old Paris on the weekend. Even they don't make coats any more apparently.
So last night I buried my hatchet of hatred against Harvey Nichols and everything Knightsbridge and took a stroll through the overpriced, over cologned and uber rude collonnades of the most overrated shopping strip on the planet.
OK, so I just don't like Havey Nicks, the ceilings are too low. And the fact that every pooflette you'd find at GAY on a thursday night works there and thinks that their shit dont stink because they work there, just makes me see red and pink spots.
And then they didn't even have any coats either. So they suck double.
Then I went into Zara, which, as far as Zara stores go, is a pretty good one. The whole first and second floors are the womens lable, and HARK! racks racks and racks and racks of funky winter coats.
Up on the third floor however, the marvellous groovy wintercoat song went a little off key. One floor of men's label, sharing half the space with the Zara CASA and not a SINGLE coat anywhere. I actually walked around the floor 3 times, just in case my contact lenses weren't working for some reason leaving me with a white out where that fawn coloured wool coat was meant to hang, but I just kept bumping into the glass display and knocking wicker candle holders onto the floor (bad idea anyways..)
Strike two.
So then there was Harrod's. (Dramatic Pause) I HATE HARROD'S even MORE than I hate HN's. It's always CHOCKER BLOCK packed full of ageing women with hundreds of bags wandering aimlessly through halls that have absolultely NO logic as to what they're selling in them, thereby confusing the old ducks even more.
It's like Mr Al Fayid has just organised the whole store alphabetically, or around the shrine to Diana or something. I dont know. Who can explain how you can go from the Lanvin counter to the Lamb butcher in six steps? And there's this incipid stench of women's perfulme that permeates into everything. I smelled of it for hours afterwards, even after I had showered in Domestos. Seriously.. I woke up this morning, and when i went for my morning toilette, it smelled like Chanel no 5.
Anyhow, once I found menswear after having walked all over the ground, first and second floors, I actually DID find the coat that i wanted.
It was £800.
FUCK.
posted by Eddie Knittster at 6:40 pm
2 Comments:
Just had to comment on the coat saga
There is a very strange thing about this country.... we know its going to get cold so we decide to start selling winter coats in August. BUT by November when it IS cold... the shops stop selling coats.
WHY I hear you ask
One reason and one reason only.... us Brits aren't happy unless we're bitching and complaining so the shops make sure that all the coats are gone by the time we REALLY need them and then we have a proper reason to COMPLAIN. Job done.... we're happy as an entire nation because we're cold, coatless and miserable.
You'll soon learn the reasons for these things. :-)
Love and hugs.
Robin
ed,
what happen to pondering the weighty stuff?
who is this slave to fashion - do i know this idot?
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