People in Sydney seem to be VERY excited about the opening of Zara today, which is, for those who couldn’t care less, a clothing store. It originated in Spain. It’s not a very exciting clothing store if I’m honest. Spain has produced some much better things in its time, like… well… paella. But still, the twitterati’s going crazy over the launch, happening tonight for those who are invited.
Apparently I’m on the list, but to be perfectly blunt, I’d rather go home and iron the clothes I’ve already got than trek all the way over there and fight the clones in order to buy even more. Is this a sign that I’m getting old, do you think? Or is it just that shopping in Sydney bores the shit out of me?
In England there’s a Zara on pretty much every high street. I don’t remember it being as fashionable as TopShop, as cheap as Primark or as quick to sell out of stock as New Look, but I do recall it having a very nice range of t-shirts. I bought a hoodie from Zara once, with little dogs and bones all over it. I can’t wear it now, because I made the mistake of wearing it on a rather unfortunate trip to Jaipur and my friends and I had a horrible time wading through pig-shit in Jaipur, feeling very cold and sorry for ourselves. I can’t wear it without remembering the misery associated with pulling it around me tightly, watching semi-naked Indians pissing in the middle of roundabouts, and wishing myself away from the nasty train conductor who halted our trip to the Taj Mahal by attempting to scam hundreds of rupees out of us.
Anyway, it seems like everyone else is itching to race down there tonight and blow a wad of cash on looking like everyone else. I just don’t understand it!
I used to love shopping more than life itself. It used to be the perfect route to total escapism, especially in Dubai. Here however, trawling through the shops is a royal pain in the arse. Everything I’d deem as worthy of a place on my wish-list is either cheap shit disguised as something expensive, or something nice that’s still ridiculously overpriced. Shoes are the worst. I see shoes here all the time, priced at $80 – $100 that I’m sure would cost less than 20 quid on the London high street.
Allegedly, in this new 1400 square metre Zara, there’s a specially designed range of clothes for the southern hemisphere, which depresses me even more, really. Maybe if I knew I could expect a taste of home… something akin to what the rest of the world are enjoying in the name of fashion, I’d be more inclined to get involved. As it is, I can’t help but think it’s exciting the people of Sydney because there’s not much else in the way of clothing to give a toss about. Or maybe some people need to get out more.
I actually rather like my friend’s tweet on the topic. Behold: “It’s only a Spanish frock shop, not the second coming of Jesus Christ.”