This last week has been a crucial test of will power for me. I have been gradually weaning myself off my beloved brands this past few months, and feeling more confident about the general outlook post-bonfire. Then the sales hit. Huge reductions on famous brand names. Prices slashed across the store. The powers that be have turned the branded tractor beam up to 9.5 (just below the full 10 of Christmas) and I am being dragged towards Selfridges against my will.
Actually, it's my own damn fault. A consummate professional shopper, I have managed to get myself on the mailing lists of all my favorite names; Burberry, Heals, Liberties etc, so that I get personal invitations to preview sales and 'special valued customer' evenings. Invites to some sales, like Vivienne Westwood's are notoriously difficult to obtain, and I would often attempt to crash the party, or piggyback in with incredibly lucky holders of the golden tickets. Receiving those invite cards through the post would tell me that the brand still loved me, still needed me, still wanted me; a reward for the devotion I had offered after all these years of spending.
At the peak of my insanity, I would get up obscenely early and queue outside certain stores waiting for the sales to start; you had to, otherwise the best stuff would be gone by the first afternoon. Over time I came to recognize the same people in those queues, and I would feel a curious sense of camaraderie with the others (which would evaporate as we fought over the one remaining Eames chair and footstall).
Serious shoppers would dress for the event. Just as big game hunters would nail deer heads to the wall of their study, we would drape hard to find, sample-only gear across our backs; vintage 'pieces' that were highly prized, but unlike the mugs on the high street, we never paid full price. That was the point; we were special, we were 'in' with the brands. Regular shopping was for tourists.
This year sadly, I'm out of the game entirely. Hundreds of essential items at low low prices are slipping away, as I observe the self-imposed exclusion zone around town. Right now, someone is rummaging through a rack of Ralph Lauren shirts, putting their dirty hands all over stuff that has MY name on it. Stuff that would add new dimensions to my life, new levels of happiness, new ways to express how cool and confident and successful and satisfied I am. The football, coupled with the nice weather have managed to lure the British public away from the high street this summer and the shops have been hit hard, so these sales are going to last well into the Autumn. Ah well, I guess I'll live. Come the end of August, it'll only be fuel for the fire.
4 Comments:
Hi Neil,
What will happen if somebody bought you a luxurious branded gift after the burning?
Hello
well I guess I'd have to pass on the gift to someone else... create a recyled present box in my flat. As a child, I used to be really embarrassed when my Mum would do just that, but now I see the wisdom of her ways. You just have to enusre you never recycle a gift to the person that originally gave it to you.
Anyway, who would be so cruel to do such a thing?
I just gave away a really beautiful, expensive jacket to someone yesterday, in return for some invaluable work and advice (like a high-end bater system). It pained me to give it away, and i'm sure i'll miss it in the future, but in some way I feel liberated. The things you own end up owning you, to quote Fight Club.
Hello Neil,
How green of you to recycle the brands, let hope your resolve does not slip when christmas comes knocking.
Maybe you could write a second follow up book. Post burning, too see if you stick by your new found principles.
Hello Neil,
Please read the new book Fashion Bablyon, It blows the lid on fashion brands and how they have sticth up the public for years. For example some top fashion house have gone vintage shopping cut the out the old labels and stuck the clothes on the catwalk.
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