Retail Freak Out
Why do I brave Oxford Street, when I know how much it freaks me out? It is England's largest high street and as a phenomenon of consumer madness and cultural downfall it really can't be beat. It is a spectacle in itself.
This is an old image of Oxford Street I culled off Google, as you can tell by the Routmaster bus, now retired. *Sniff* I miss the Routmaster, I do. As I miss the WEE-OO WEE-OO WEE-OO police sirens. But I digress.
I admit I love the Oxford Street TopShop. But only at 10 am when they first open, preferably on a weekday. The shop mannequins are dressed in surprising juxtapositions that inspire me, and things there come in my size (often just barely, though, alas. I have heard that Top Shop has a Plus range, but I have not seen it. It seems to evade me. Surely it must be in the flagship store?) I often complain about stores like Target, etc. not having an equivalent here, but I can honestly say there is nothing like TopShop in America. Which is maybe why it's swamped with tourists and locals ALL THE TIME. Once I asked one of the workers there how she dealt with the stress of it all, when one could hardly move because of the crowds. She laughed and said, "Today is a GOOD day." The patience of the retail workers on Oxford Street is unmatched!
But yesterday we found ourselves in the block-long Primark store. Aieeeeee. I have tried to shop at Primark. Everything I have purchased from there has fallen apart or just not worn well, except for a pair of socks. This Primark was the most insane retail environment I have ever seen. A city block of white space filled with metal racks, peppered with shoddily clad mannequins. Piles and piles of things everywhere that shoppers had carried around and discarded. And massive crowds. People bumping into each other and pushing. So many people you couldn't get by some aisles, all of them with baskets full of sweatshop clothes. They were standing in lines of over 100 people deep at every till point, in queues that snaked back on themselves 4 or 5 times. For what? To pay £2 for a camisole. £8 for a sweater. £4 leggings. Yeah, the prices are low, but it is truly the fast food of clothing.
I don't believe there is an equivalent for this in America. My solution to cutting back on sweatshop clothes was to buy second hand, which was really easy and cheap in the US. There aren't really any thrift stores in Britain. Charity shops in the UK take last season's discarded Primark crap and mark it up to more than it cost originally because it's for charity. Second hand bargains don't exist. If something is well made and nice it will be put in some charity shop "boutique" with a £30 price tag.
Primark is cheaper than buying second hand. Honestly, though, I have never seen clothing so badly made. It is irrational, but when I look at the mounds of shoddily made merchandise my thoughts turn to the rising amount of TB in sweatshops and child labor. I notice I don't have these realizations in other shops that are not so primal. I am a hypocrite. And maybe I am a snob. I don't have that much room to store clothing and it's made me really fussy. If it's going to take up space in my super tiny wardrobe, it better be decently made and wearable, things that most Primark clothes are not.
Since moving to England I have had retail freak outs quite often. Being in a new country forces you to break all your old habits, everything seems odd and impossible. In a crowded place like Oxford St. people are swarming around the merchandise and I'm standing back going OH GOD IT'S ALL SO UGLY. THE PEOPLE AND THE THINGS ARE JUST GROTESQUE. I can't participate and I don't even know why I'm there, why I thought it would be fun to buy something new. I start to see it all as some Hieronymus Bosch-esque spectacle.
I realize how much I need magazines like Adbusters and artists like Sue Coe.
Triumph of Fundamentalism, by Sue Coe
Without them I would be alone in my disorientation, shock and shame.
This is an old image of Oxford Street I culled off Google, as you can tell by the Routmaster bus, now retired. *Sniff* I miss the Routmaster, I do. As I miss the WEE-OO WEE-OO WEE-OO police sirens. But I digress.
I admit I love the Oxford Street TopShop. But only at 10 am when they first open, preferably on a weekday. The shop mannequins are dressed in surprising juxtapositions that inspire me, and things there come in my size (often just barely, though, alas. I have heard that Top Shop has a Plus range, but I have not seen it. It seems to evade me. Surely it must be in the flagship store?) I often complain about stores like Target, etc. not having an equivalent here, but I can honestly say there is nothing like TopShop in America. Which is maybe why it's swamped with tourists and locals ALL THE TIME. Once I asked one of the workers there how she dealt with the stress of it all, when one could hardly move because of the crowds. She laughed and said, "Today is a GOOD day." The patience of the retail workers on Oxford Street is unmatched!
But yesterday we found ourselves in the block-long Primark store. Aieeeeee. I have tried to shop at Primark. Everything I have purchased from there has fallen apart or just not worn well, except for a pair of socks. This Primark was the most insane retail environment I have ever seen. A city block of white space filled with metal racks, peppered with shoddily clad mannequins. Piles and piles of things everywhere that shoppers had carried around and discarded. And massive crowds. People bumping into each other and pushing. So many people you couldn't get by some aisles, all of them with baskets full of sweatshop clothes. They were standing in lines of over 100 people deep at every till point, in queues that snaked back on themselves 4 or 5 times. For what? To pay £2 for a camisole. £8 for a sweater. £4 leggings. Yeah, the prices are low, but it is truly the fast food of clothing.
I don't believe there is an equivalent for this in America. My solution to cutting back on sweatshop clothes was to buy second hand, which was really easy and cheap in the US. There aren't really any thrift stores in Britain. Charity shops in the UK take last season's discarded Primark crap and mark it up to more than it cost originally because it's for charity. Second hand bargains don't exist. If something is well made and nice it will be put in some charity shop "boutique" with a £30 price tag.
Primark is cheaper than buying second hand. Honestly, though, I have never seen clothing so badly made. It is irrational, but when I look at the mounds of shoddily made merchandise my thoughts turn to the rising amount of TB in sweatshops and child labor. I notice I don't have these realizations in other shops that are not so primal. I am a hypocrite. And maybe I am a snob. I don't have that much room to store clothing and it's made me really fussy. If it's going to take up space in my super tiny wardrobe, it better be decently made and wearable, things that most Primark clothes are not.
Since moving to England I have had retail freak outs quite often. Being in a new country forces you to break all your old habits, everything seems odd and impossible. In a crowded place like Oxford St. people are swarming around the merchandise and I'm standing back going OH GOD IT'S ALL SO UGLY. THE PEOPLE AND THE THINGS ARE JUST GROTESQUE. I can't participate and I don't even know why I'm there, why I thought it would be fun to buy something new. I start to see it all as some Hieronymus Bosch-esque spectacle.
I realize how much I need magazines like Adbusters and artists like Sue Coe.
Triumph of Fundamentalism, by Sue Coe
Without them I would be alone in my disorientation, shock and shame.