Bikini Bottoms

This afternoon I went on the most horrific shopping trip. Ever. I hate clothes shopping at the best of times. One reason being the sheer vastness and rudeness of the people frequenting the shops. The second reason is the continuous removal and donning of your existing clothes. The third has to be the unflattering and hot lighting that is always installed in changing rooms. And the fourth and final reason that I loathe clothes shopping, is the many mirrors. Mirrors that show depict your semi clothed self, warts and all (rest assured I have no warts, but you know what I mean), at every possible and unsightly angle.

I love shopping for things, on the other hand. Things that don’t involve changing rooms or the words ‘you can only take 6 items in at a time’. Shopping for books, CDs, notebooks, an occasional handbag, that I enjoy. In and out of the shopping centre you go. Simple. Sorted. Time for a starbucks.

But this shopping til you drop stuff. I ain’t got time for that. Not these days, when time is of the essence.

At uni all we seemed to do was shop, splashing our student loans on out-out garments. I think this, over shopping, this go-to activity every week, wandering through town on the way to campus, this waiting around in queues for somebody else to try something on, it made me detest shopping.

It’s so time consuming. And disheartening. Why is it that any time you go shopping with a clear and ordered list, you’re able to find none of the items you came out for. You end up coming home empty handed, flustered and irritated due to the sarcasm of shop assistants.

And that’s what happened today. I initially slapped on a brave and determined face, setting out, hopeful in my quest to buy a handful of bikini’s for my Spanish holiday at the end of August.

Needless to say this was not the case. And despite riffling through the assorted bikini dregs that littered the racks of New Look, H&M, M&S, Dorothy Perkins, Next, Topshop, Oasis, Monsoon and even BHS and Evans – when things got desperate- I found nothing worthy of purchase. I have never seen such an array of bikini bottoms,  from bright luminous colours, to groovy patterns, splashes of Aztec here and there and even a few frills. But pardon me Mr Shopkeeper, where are all the tops? Why are there so many surplus bottoms hanging around in the world? Topless sunbathers would be happy as Larry by this outcome, but let me assure you, I was not.

Left overs

Left overs

I must have taken my clothes off a grand number of 10 times, and then put them all back on again, for no reason whatsoever. I literally wasted my whole saturday, huffing and puffing in shops, putting ill fitting swimwear on all afternoon.

So it looks like I’ll be skinny dipping this year. Unless I convert to this internet shopping craze that my office colleagues have so readily adopted. Maybe I’ll be just another contributor to the death of the high street. But when the high street has silly seasons and a lack of decent stock, I’m not that keen to preserve it.

Get your bikini-bottomed-butt into gear High Street, as far as I can tell it’s still July, so keep those boots in storage and order in some more two pieces. ASAP!

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