Adrenaline Shopping

Yesterday, I was dragged to ZARA by one of my colleagues (let's call her Bambi for her doe eyes) in my lunch hour. I wasn't actually too keen on entering what I knew would be a grey zone of sale-leftovers-fighting-for-floorspace-with-not-yet-unpacked-autumn-wear and I also knew that I'd inevitably pick up some bargain or other and have to drown out the voices in my head shouting "Declutter!" with a capital D. Pick up something, I did indeed:

A beige waisted cotton jacket reduced to € 29 from an original € 99, perfect with several of my summer dresses. I had to earn this purchase the usual hard ZARA way, though. There were 6 or 7 of these jackets on a rack, all of them size "M" (no other sizes left). I tried on each and every one of them, not really surprised that some were so tight I could not close the button, some did not actually have a button attached to them, some were smudged with make-up, others had the security thingy attached to all(!) layers of sleeve fabric. At last I found one that fit and had a button that was only slightly loose.

Had the object of my desire not a) been drastically reduced, b) not really needed at all and had I c) not been just browsing idly in the first place, I would have been really annoyed.

They do this all the time!

I usually know my size (a German 36) and everywhere else I shop, clothes fit (unfortunately!) and trousers have just the right length. At ZARA and its Inditex siblings, though, you have to try on at least four different sizes until you find one that remotely fits you and when you think you've found one you can't rely on that for your next visit at all. The trousers are always half a metre too long, seams poorly stitched.

Women probably only shop there either because they take comfort in a mutual frustration-fest in the changing rooms or because they are driven by some primeval urge to hunt for the best bargain.