[I wrote this about a week ago, I just never got round to publishing it]I did it. Against all my principles. I could say I was forced. But my friends really aren't that forceful. It helps I have a good 3 inches on the tallest of them. But I'm not helping myself with these ramblings.
So what did I do? What immoral act did I perform?
I went in to Hollister.
Ergh. I feel dirty writing it. Me, Jennie and Becky ventured across that imposing 'veranda' into the dark depths of the most unpleasant shop I have ever been in. I hasten to point out, we did not queue. I would have run away if anyone had suggested we queue, since there can be nothing more humiliating than standing in line, boosting this ridiculous shop's self-importance and creating to an artificial appearance of exclusivity for what has to be one of the most generic brands around.
Anyway, prejudices aside (ha, yeah right), I dared to cross that overcompensating threshold to experience the delights that presumably lay within. I can honestly say there were no delights held within. Well. That's not quite true. The people who work there are beautiful. Male and Female. However they do further the intimidation and falseness of the whole affair, so I can't really pretend they improve the experience. That is, assuming you can actually see them through the gloom of the shop - people wander round clutching random items of clothing looking for the rare spotlights randomly scattered through the shop, in an attempt to actually see what they will inevitably purchase (well who can blame them? If you go to all the effort of finding enough light in that place to check you've got the right size, you can't really decide against buying it) I remember smiling as one mother said to her daughter 'I'm not sure what colour this is' [I swear I did not make that up].
Do not go there and expect to breathe. For a start, there are so many people crammed into such a confined, poorly laid out space that what little air there is provides insufficient oxygen to go around. This is further accentuated by the absurd quantity of perfume that permeates your lungs the second you gasp in horror at the sight (or lack thereof) of the shop. How anyone can buy perfume in there I genuinely have no idea, since it would appear impossible to distinguish between anything you might wish to buy and the chemical concoction that fills your nostrils.
As you may have noticed, I'm not a big fan of the shop. You are free to shop there if you wish, but if you wear something that has their name or logo on, I may well disown you. But, as ever, it is a free country (:
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