Oh no THE SALES. I hate the frisking sales - I go weak at the knees whenever I hit foreign soil and I go past Zara and see the mannequins with the paper bags on their heads. I know this means, sharp elbows, queues for Africa and peach coloured tee shirt dresses with strange cut outs on every hanger. But this was the sale to end all sales. For a start the goods on offer were actually 'real things' things that you'd actually want to buy at normal prices and then on top of that they didn't cost as much AKA CHEAPER ie like a lot cheaper. I saw a pair of Maison Margiela sneakers that Abbey and I had coveted in Harold's - ON SALE. The downside though was the queues. Queues to try on. Queues to pay. Queues to get on the escalators. And even queues to get into the queues. There were a lot of face masks and polite bowing to deal with as well which slows everything down. I panicked and waited 40 minutes to pay for only 1 pair of shoes and then as I made my way out - I saw a dozen things I should have bought but by then Nigel was starting to feign an angina attack so I had to whisk him into Starbucks for a cuppa chino.
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