Friday, March 25, 2011
That felt pretty good.
Last night, I went to a rather nice work do. To be fair, it wasn't a work do at all. It was a shopping spree.
Ted Baker is a high-endy, premium, very very naace American retailer. I don't usually shop here, it's a little too Kate Middleton** for my tastes.
However. Last night they offered my entire office a 20% discount on all their stuff at the King's Road branch. Including doors closing, so that the rest of the commoners stay outside. Plus drinks. Plus goodie bags.
Can you imagine. It's the closest to celebutante shopping I've ever experienced.
The one drawback, of course, was that they offered a wet bar next to the silk kaftan section.
Which means, martinis and other hard liquor concoctions were flowing all over the shop, and therefore many of us were falling victim to Post Drunk Shopping Dissidence.
I have a firm rule: If I'm going to shop at an expensive store, I'll only buy staples.
This means anything that's super trendy, has crazy patterns or shit all over it, or generally is something I'd only wear on the rare occasion is not on my shopping list.
The stuff I'll buy at a shop like Ted Baker are things like jeans, and one-colour skirts and tops. So that they go with everything and I can maximise and justify the expense.
If the shirt costs, say £180, then that means, with wear and tear of £1/day, I'd have paid off the shirt in 180 days. And I'd rather pay this off as soon as possible, so I'd need to wear it a lot. If it's a zebra print kaftan, then to wear it twice a week would be out of the question.
God know why or how I've to think like that. Anyway.
After a few drinks, you start to sidle up to the jumpsuit rack and catch yourself thinking, "Man, thish shuit ish fantashtic!" [I'm not Dutch, I'm slurring].
Then you buy the bloody thing and the next day open your cupboard and scream, "Gak! What is this thing that hangs here, and Jesus, why did it cost me 8 squillion quid?!"
Luckily, I was not blinded by alcohol or the pumping tunes coming from the DJ box.
The nicest touch of the evening, was the dude playing the violin and singing in the fancy change rooms. It was a treat for the ears, while I pulled off my humble Debenhams clothes to try on the wonderful triage of cloth I'd picked.
He was serending us while we got naked behind the doors. Now that is how I want to shop.
Oh and my 'staples' are rather nice too.
** If it seems I'm mentioning Kate Middleton a lot, you are not wrong. The Royal Wedding malarkey is jolly good fun over here on Mud Isle.