Tuesday, 19 August 2008

Changing Room Capers

Appealing to all the guys out there, you know what it's like when you add girls to shops. In other words – Kiss goodbye to your Saturday morning and we might as well include the afternoon to boot. We’ll be perfectly happy wandering around a shop that looks as if it should belong in a miniature model village for the best part of three hours. Guys on the other hand, most likely to go with the first item they set eyes on that somewhat resembles what it is they actually need (and why would they want to try it on? I mean that’s why we have clothes sizes right?). The pure luxury of just being able to wander aimlessly around a store and try on a whole pile of clothes which, to be perfectly honest, you have to real intention of buying is all part of the attraction for us shopoholic girlies and in fact an integral part of the experience. Just as is an equally enthusiastic, honest shopping buddie to accompany us on our travels, one who doesn’t happen to be the shop assistant. Now don’t get be wrong store workers are great when you need to pay or to set off on an ever lasting quest to find that must have in your size. But as my new best friend? No thanks.

When I’m in the changing room trying on possible purchases is it really a good idea to harass and hound me as well as plague me with extra unwanted garments? Now I don’t know if I’m just an oddity of the planet but when I’m standing in just my underwear with nothing but a flimsy curtain between me and every Tom, Dick or Harry that’s ever walked the earth, I rather you, yes you miss shop assistant, don’t blunder aimlessly in to ask “how ya doin’ ere then?” Already reasonably perturbed by this brash and uncalled for sales tactic, I’m about to make my excuses on principles alone (regardless of whether this piece of cloth around my neck is my dream dress or a glorified dustbin liner and there’s no point beating about the bush. In this case the latter option.) However simply getting a word in edgeways seems a lost cause as she precedes to guessitmate my size (2 sizes to large, no wishful thinking involved) and presents me with dustbin dredge version 1.2. Maybe my logics’s slightly off but if a customer doesn’t look to keen then maybe leave them be to make way another waitee for whom this maybe “it”? And if what they’re trying on is too big then surely we need to downsize instead of go up? Apparently not. Or maybe lack of common sense is now part if the job criteria. Nonetheless I dutifully try on the aforementioned article of clothing, partly as this could just be first day at work over excitement and partly as I really don’t appear to have a choice in the matter. I’ve barely got the thing over my ears before the dreaded question of how I’m doing looms through the curtain. No, in answer to your question I don’t feel fab. More like an underdressed tart to be perfectly blunt. Oh dear. You look mortally wounded. Quick exit anyone?

But in all seriousness if you want our possible purchases to turn into next weeks wear then recent changes in sales strategies may need to be rethought. So to all eager shop owners out there, maybe you should introduce compulsory cold showers to all workers. Long live browsing. . If I need your help I’ll ask.

Monday, 11 August 2008


I thought I'd try posting something a little different for a change so here is a poem I wrote a few years ago. No, this is not just a way of still posting without effort. Okay maybe it is. .

The raging fire, blinding and roaring,
Unforgiving merciless, reaching out clawing,
To expand his domain, ungraciously to feed,
His hunger for power, to express the need,
His lust for control, a burning desire,
To consume all before him in his searing attire,
A blackened wasteland left in his wake,
A smouldering desert, from which he did take,
The joy and the soul, the essence of life,
Left behind a land of bitterness, strife,
A desolate expanse, nothing less nothing more,
Than a city of ashes, glowing embers on the floor.

Jemma Collins, 14