Happy London Fashion Week!! Don't panic, this hasn't transformed into a fashion and beauty blog, though I've read enough of those I could probably be pretty good at it.
As this blog keeps those of you who can't be here updated on the goings on in London and my life, you might be interested in this. Last week was the New York Spring/Summer 2009 shows, where designers show off their upcoming collections, thereby setting the trends for the next few seasons. This week (actually it started Friday) is the beginning of what promises to be a quirky week. Though this year's shows are smaller, yet another effect of the stellar economy we're currently experiencing.
In any case, I'll let you know of any sightings of hungry models or bored British celebrities. I doubt they'll journey over to my end of the city. We all know models won't read unless they're paid to.
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Monday, February 23, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Sweet Primark
There are things that I have had to do without while in London that have hurt me. Bagels is a big one. Another is new clothes. It is brutal living in one of the capitals of fashion and being unable to partake in the fun. Markets and shops abound adorned with gorgeously dressed mannequins, and fabulously dressed women walk down the London streets while I watch in envy.
This fashion fast is partly self-imposed. I don’t have room in my suitcases or my tiny room for my entire wardrobe. But part of it is a result of consequences. The British pound is worth twice as much as the Canadian dollar. Let that sink in a bit. Every price you see must be doubled. That hurts a bit. If I were making pounds it wouldn’t be so bad, as if you compare one to one, things aren’t that more expensive than Toronto. But adding the exchange makes you want to kill yourself. It really puts a downer on going to the Gap, Selfridges, Topshop or any other store here and seeing a shirt for £25, taking a moment, doing the math to realize that’s $50 for a top. Not worth it. Then there’s Primark.
Primark on Oxford Street
What is Primark you ask? A godsend, heaven, incredible, frustrating, unbelievable. All these words are applicable and none are exaggerated. Primark is similar to Forever 21 and H&M, a discount retailer that takes trends from the runways, shifts them slightly and then sells them for cheap. What’s special about Primark is that it sells it cheaper than I’ve ever seen—even with the exchange! Here are some of the stuff I’ve bought at Primark in the last four months.
All this glory doesn’t come for free. There are two problems with Primark. The first is obvious: quality. My friend Nicole once said it’s cheaper to wear Primark stuff once and throw it out than wash it and have it tear, rip, or deteriorate before your eyes. While not fully true, it’s close. Because you get sweaters for £4, they won’t be the best quality. I have a grey sweater (not pictured) that is 32% cotton, 30% nylon, 26% viscose and 8% wool, which isn’t bad, but it’s not going to last years. That’s why you have to be strategic about it. If you’re looking for a foundation item such as a white button shirt, you’re better off getting it at the Gap where it’ll last longer. But if you’re looking for a party dress, the trend of the moment for £8 is good enough. There are some exceptions. My red patent high heels are leather interiors which was a surprise.
Just one of many stalls'o'fun at Primark
The other downside is the crowds. I have never seen mobs like the ones constantly in Primark. Even on a Wednesday at noon, the line up for the dressing room is a few meters long. I once went on a Sunday afternoon, which was a huge mistake. But if you’re brave enough to navigate the crowds, and know how to work the trends, Primark can be your best friend.
This fashion fast is partly self-imposed. I don’t have room in my suitcases or my tiny room for my entire wardrobe. But part of it is a result of consequences. The British pound is worth twice as much as the Canadian dollar. Let that sink in a bit. Every price you see must be doubled. That hurts a bit. If I were making pounds it wouldn’t be so bad, as if you compare one to one, things aren’t that more expensive than Toronto. But adding the exchange makes you want to kill yourself. It really puts a downer on going to the Gap, Selfridges, Topshop or any other store here and seeing a shirt for £25, taking a moment, doing the math to realize that’s $50 for a top. Not worth it. Then there’s Primark.
Primark on Oxford Street
What is Primark you ask? A godsend, heaven, incredible, frustrating, unbelievable. All these words are applicable and none are exaggerated. Primark is similar to Forever 21 and H&M, a discount retailer that takes trends from the runways, shifts them slightly and then sells them for cheap. What’s special about Primark is that it sells it cheaper than I’ve ever seen—even with the exchange! Here are some of the stuff I’ve bought at Primark in the last four months.
All this glory doesn’t come for free. There are two problems with Primark. The first is obvious: quality. My friend Nicole once said it’s cheaper to wear Primark stuff once and throw it out than wash it and have it tear, rip, or deteriorate before your eyes. While not fully true, it’s close. Because you get sweaters for £4, they won’t be the best quality. I have a grey sweater (not pictured) that is 32% cotton, 30% nylon, 26% viscose and 8% wool, which isn’t bad, but it’s not going to last years. That’s why you have to be strategic about it. If you’re looking for a foundation item such as a white button shirt, you’re better off getting it at the Gap where it’ll last longer. But if you’re looking for a party dress, the trend of the moment for £8 is good enough. There are some exceptions. My red patent high heels are leather interiors which was a surprise.
Just one of many stalls'o'fun at PrimarkThe other downside is the crowds. I have never seen mobs like the ones constantly in Primark. Even on a Wednesday at noon, the line up for the dressing room is a few meters long. I once went on a Sunday afternoon, which was a huge mistake. But if you’re brave enough to navigate the crowds, and know how to work the trends, Primark can be your best friend.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
One Law I Could Live With
As you read this, I'll be back from Paris and back to the grind (read: school and life). I'm sure I'll have much to say about the City of Lights and many pictures to share. But just to whet your appetites, here's something you may want to ponder. Last July I was talking about the sales in Brussels. Well, according to the New York Times, they are legislated:
"These sales are the real deal. Under French law, retail stores are only allowed to run public sales for several weeks in January and July, and for two weeks sometime during the year."And they're even better than in Brussels.
"That marks opening day of this year’s winter “soldes” (sales), five weeks of frenzied bargain-hunting for the perfect Azzaro cocktail dress or the normally unaffordable monogrammed Noël bed linen — at between 30 and 70 percent off...
For foreign visitors, the best bargains are in clothing, although porcelain, glassware, linens, furniture, even wine and Champagne also go on sale. Pricey designer handbags and shoes are particularly good value, so expect long lines with cash-carrying, battle-ready Russian, Japanese and Chinese tourists outside Prada and Gucci."I don't see myself forking over my scarce Euros for Gucci or Prada, but I'll let you know what I end up bringing back across the Channel.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A Different Kind of Shopping
There are many differences between the British education system and the Canadian one. Different school year, marking is different even different terminology. But the best difference is the idea of shopping for classes. It was first introduced to me in Michelmas term (what they call the time from October to December). It's based on the idea that you should go to a class before you decide to invest 10 weeks, countless hours of reading and work and pounds to excelling in it. Teachers are fully aware of it too. The first class acts as their pitch to students: here's why you should take my class and why I'm awesome.
I have to say that I think it's a great concept. It is kind of ridiculous to choose a course based only on its title and professor. That's why here they make as much available as possible--timetables, class syllabus, due dates, reading lists, etc—all with the hope that it will help you make your decision. This concept benefits students to: if your students want to be there, they’ll try harder, do well and make for a more interesting seminar.
But sometimes the system breaks down. Case in point, last semester. I had to choose three classes. I ended up choosing "Presidents, Public Opinion and Foreign Policy," "Political Economy of South East Europe" and "From Nationalism to Fascism: Europe, 1880s-1939." Now according to the first class, "Presidents and Public Opinion" should have been the worst. I had already studied American history and I actually fell asleep during the introductory class. But this was not the case. This class is by far, no contest, hands down, my favourite class. The classes are brillantly structured and the professor is very engaging. Ironically, the class with the best introduction class—From Nationalism to Fascism—turned out to be the worst. The class is disorganized, the teacher is unhelpful and the concepts are sometimes too abstract for me to care about.
That’s why this week I’m shopping for another half credit class. I was supposed to take Varieties of Capitalism, but after a horrible experience with Political Economy of Southeast Europe, I’m thinking of moving away from political economy. I’ll let you know what I end up “buying.”
Image: jisc_infonet
I have to say that I think it's a great concept. It is kind of ridiculous to choose a course based only on its title and professor. That's why here they make as much available as possible--timetables, class syllabus, due dates, reading lists, etc—all with the hope that it will help you make your decision. This concept benefits students to: if your students want to be there, they’ll try harder, do well and make for a more interesting seminar.
But sometimes the system breaks down. Case in point, last semester. I had to choose three classes. I ended up choosing "Presidents, Public Opinion and Foreign Policy," "Political Economy of South East Europe" and "From Nationalism to Fascism: Europe, 1880s-1939." Now according to the first class, "Presidents and Public Opinion" should have been the worst. I had already studied American history and I actually fell asleep during the introductory class. But this was not the case. This class is by far, no contest, hands down, my favourite class. The classes are brillantly structured and the professor is very engaging. Ironically, the class with the best introduction class—From Nationalism to Fascism—turned out to be the worst. The class is disorganized, the teacher is unhelpful and the concepts are sometimes too abstract for me to care about.That’s why this week I’m shopping for another half credit class. I was supposed to take Varieties of Capitalism, but after a horrible experience with Political Economy of Southeast Europe, I’m thinking of moving away from political economy. I’ll let you know what I end up “buying.”
Image: jisc_infonet
Friday, December 12, 2008
A Walk on the Wild Side
I live in the Bloomsbury area of London, but Camden is only a ten minute walk away. It’s also the neighbourhood of Amy Winehouse, so I knew that a trip would be a walk on the wild side of life. It’s an area known for punk rockers, hippies, skaters and just generally being hard core.
We went for the Camden market where I’d read that you can get a lot of neat stuff (rain boots, purses, piercings, vintage clothing and jewellery, fruit or wooden furnishings). And I’m also a sucker for a good market.
Camden market on a Saturday morning is a bustling place. The main road is blocked off and people fill the sidewalks, street and market like plaque on artery walls. And there really were a lot of really fun stuff there. I saw a stall of pocket watches and for the first time in my life contemplated buying a pocket watch. I started thinking of all the things I could do with it and how cool I'd look with one. Needless to say I didn’t buy it. But I walked away with a beautiful teal purse that I bartered down to £12. I left the rain boots—the reason I’d originally gone to the market—as they were too wacky for me. There were some with little cherries and others with skulls and bones.
After perusing the stalls we crossed the street to what seemed like the “higher class section,” or the hippie area. Here we were bombarded with hand crafted woodwork and jewelery, aromatic incense and plush Indian textiles. It was all gorgeously set up and the goods were all quite impressive. The friend I was with is moving in with her boyfriend next year so we had fun decorating her non-existent flat.
When we’d had enough, we sat on the locks near some body of water and took in the sunshine. I marvelled at the fact that although it was October I wasn’t wearing a jacket and was actually comfortable.
On our way back to the main road we stuck by the water. As we were leaving we saw a bunch of teenagers, all dressed in black. Some were smoking cigarettes some not, but all were listening to loud rock music I didn’t recognize and teasing each other. A small group gathered around two pre-pubescent boys fighting, while the crowd cheered them on like betters at a cock fight (though I've never been to a cock fight, this is how I imagine it to be).
Walking through it was a surreal experience. I looked at my friend Erika and we both had that pained, slightly terrified look in our eyes, despite the fact that there were hundreds of people around and it was in broad daylight. And that these kids were 15 years old. Saying nothing I tried to scoot around the brawl as quickly as possible, but was accosted by a stray flailing arm that struck me lightly in the arm. I kept walking and kept my head down. When we were free of the kids Erika and I looked at each other.
“I’m not going to lie,” I said, “but I was a little afraid of those kids for a second.”
“Me too,” she said.
“Man, we’re getting old,” I said
We went for the Camden market where I’d read that you can get a lot of neat stuff (rain boots, purses, piercings, vintage clothing and jewellery, fruit or wooden furnishings). And I’m also a sucker for a good market.Camden market on a Saturday morning is a bustling place. The main road is blocked off and people fill the sidewalks, street and market like plaque on artery walls. And there really were a lot of really fun stuff there. I saw a stall of pocket watches and for the first time in my life contemplated buying a pocket watch. I started thinking of all the things I could do with it and how cool I'd look with one. Needless to say I didn’t buy it. But I walked away with a beautiful teal purse that I bartered down to £12. I left the rain boots—the reason I’d originally gone to the market—as they were too wacky for me. There were some with little cherries and others with skulls and bones.
After perusing the stalls we crossed the street to what seemed like the “higher class section,” or the hippie area. Here we were bombarded with hand crafted woodwork and jewelery, aromatic incense and plush Indian textiles. It was all gorgeously set up and the goods were all quite impressive. The friend I was with is moving in with her boyfriend next year so we had fun decorating her non-existent flat.
When we’d had enough, we sat on the locks near some body of water and took in the sunshine. I marvelled at the fact that although it was October I wasn’t wearing a jacket and was actually comfortable.
On our way back to the main road we stuck by the water. As we were leaving we saw a bunch of teenagers, all dressed in black. Some were smoking cigarettes some not, but all were listening to loud rock music I didn’t recognize and teasing each other. A small group gathered around two pre-pubescent boys fighting, while the crowd cheered them on like betters at a cock fight (though I've never been to a cock fight, this is how I imagine it to be).
Walking through it was a surreal experience. I looked at my friend Erika and we both had that pained, slightly terrified look in our eyes, despite the fact that there were hundreds of people around and it was in broad daylight. And that these kids were 15 years old. Saying nothing I tried to scoot around the brawl as quickly as possible, but was accosted by a stray flailing arm that struck me lightly in the arm. I kept walking and kept my head down. When we were free of the kids Erika and I looked at each other.
“I’m not going to lie,” I said, “but I was a little afraid of those kids for a second.”
“Me too,” she said.
“Man, we’re getting old,” I said
Friday, July 18, 2008
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away
I found them. The perfect shoe. I've been looking for them since June: bronze gladiator-style sandals, not too many straps, not too high up the angle, not too expensive. I found them yesterday in Sfera. I tried on the left one. Good fit. Perfect shoe. Check. On sale for 20 euros. Check.
So I ask the sales man for the right one. He looks at me quizzically. "Don't know," he says, in broken English, as he scans another size 38 single right foot shoe. "Not there. Sorry." That's it.
My heart sinks. It's fate. I'm not meant to have this shoe.
So I ask the sales man for the right one. He looks at me quizzically. "Don't know," he says, in broken English, as he scans another size 38 single right foot shoe. "Not there. Sorry." That's it.
My heart sinks. It's fate. I'm not meant to have this shoe.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
You know it's summer when...
July means a lot to different people. To young children, it means no school, endless days of wreaking havoc, popsicles and climbing trees. To students, it means working 9-5, driving with the windows down blaring music and weekend parties with friends. To me, July evokes sunshine, the smell of sunscreen, heat that reaches the thirties and lazy weekends. To Belgians, it means rainy days (nothing new there), slightly higher temperatures (hello low twenties instead of high teens) and great sales. That’s right, you read right. Sales. As in shopping. And it’s not just in Belgium. It’s continent wide. And everyone knows about it. Cassandra has been telling me since May that if we were going to Paris, it should be in July to take advantage of the sales. A friend of mine works at the Canadian Mission to the EU, and he says the Canadians there have been telling him the same. So today I checked them out. Me and a few hundred of my closest friends. Holy moly, there were a lot of people there. It wasn't as bad as Christmas shopping in Toronto, but I had never seen so many people shopping before. In some stores the lines for the cash were 10 people deep. Obviously, the July sales are a big deal.
Anyway, so I went. I didn’t want to—I’m on a self-imposed spending strike for the next two weeks and I was determined nothing would lure me off that picket line. But I was bullied there by two guy friends (forced to shop by men, doesn't sound real does it?) and so I went, rather unwillingly.
And oh, the beauty. They took me to the shopping street in Brussels, Rue de Neuve, where store upon store stood facing each other in a row of beauty: Esprit, Mexx, Promod, We, United Colors of Benetton, H&M (there were five, though I only visited two) and many more. Each had beautiful window displays with stunning clothes but the most alluring of all were the massive signs that read “-50%” and “sale” in three different languages. I spent two hours perusing that street, going in and out of stores and trying things on—sometimes against my will. I was a hard sell, too. My friend Dave would hold an item up for my inspection and like an American Idol judge, I would instantly deliver my verdict: no, yes, too fancy, don’t like the colour, not wild about the pattern etc. I promised myself I wouldn’t cave unless I found something that I loved. I’m glad to report that I didn’t buy one thing. But here are some of the more interesting finds.
This is a fun shoe. I understand it’s part of the whole gladiator trend and I’ll get ridiculed mercilessly for them (let the comments flow). But they’re pretty versatile and for €15 if I wear them from now until September (when I’m in Portugal) I’ll get my money’s worth.
The next one is a coat. I know many of you are thinking, “A coat? In July?” But this is for the fall in London. It’s a bit of a rain coat. The one I’m thinking of is from H&M but for some reason I can’t find it online (that’ll teach me to take pictures in the store). So, imagine this neckline (the big, scooped overflowing kind), with this jacket (except with a single row of black buttons and a little less A-line, in this colour.
Again, I know what you’re thinking: It’s yellow. And not a demure, eggshell yellow; sunbeam yellow. I was skeptical too. But after I was bullied into trying it on, it really grew on me. My reservations come from two areas. One, can I work yellow? I’ve always shied away from yellow because I feel like it’ll wash out my very white complexion. But the bright yellow pops. But does it make me look like Paddington Bear? Two, the collar. It’s quite large. I don’t have a problem with it, but is it distracting? It’s €30 but I’m going to think about it and maybe it’ll go down to €20.
Then there’s this purse (purses are my personal kryptonite). The one I want is from Mexx not Coach but this is the closest I could find. The one I was looking at was larger (taller and a bit wider--it can hold a clipboard), has thicker straps, is made out of a plastic and leather feeling material (more durable) and is green and brown with a buckle in the middle. It’s off-the-shoulder and therefore would be a good school bag. Right now it’s €30, but I hope if I go back next week it’ll be €20.
Anyway, so I went. I didn’t want to—I’m on a self-imposed spending strike for the next two weeks and I was determined nothing would lure me off that picket line. But I was bullied there by two guy friends (forced to shop by men, doesn't sound real does it?) and so I went, rather unwillingly.
And oh, the beauty. They took me to the shopping street in Brussels, Rue de Neuve, where store upon store stood facing each other in a row of beauty: Esprit, Mexx, Promod, We, United Colors of Benetton, H&M (there were five, though I only visited two) and many more. Each had beautiful window displays with stunning clothes but the most alluring of all were the massive signs that read “-50%” and “sale” in three different languages. I spent two hours perusing that street, going in and out of stores and trying things on—sometimes against my will. I was a hard sell, too. My friend Dave would hold an item up for my inspection and like an American Idol judge, I would instantly deliver my verdict: no, yes, too fancy, don’t like the colour, not wild about the pattern etc. I promised myself I wouldn’t cave unless I found something that I loved. I’m glad to report that I didn’t buy one thing. But here are some of the more interesting finds.
This is a fun shoe. I understand it’s part of the whole gladiator trend and I’ll get ridiculed mercilessly for them (let the comments flow). But they’re pretty versatile and for €15 if I wear them from now until September (when I’m in Portugal) I’ll get my money’s worth.
The next one is a coat. I know many of you are thinking, “A coat? In July?” But this is for the fall in London. It’s a bit of a rain coat. The one I’m thinking of is from H&M but for some reason I can’t find it online (that’ll teach me to take pictures in the store). So, imagine this neckline (the big, scooped overflowing kind), with this jacket (except with a single row of black buttons and a little less A-line, in this colour.
Again, I know what you’re thinking: It’s yellow. And not a demure, eggshell yellow; sunbeam yellow. I was skeptical too. But after I was bullied into trying it on, it really grew on me. My reservations come from two areas. One, can I work yellow? I’ve always shied away from yellow because I feel like it’ll wash out my very white complexion. But the bright yellow pops. But does it make me look like Paddington Bear? Two, the collar. It’s quite large. I don’t have a problem with it, but is it distracting? It’s €30 but I’m going to think about it and maybe it’ll go down to €20.
Then there’s this purse (purses are my personal kryptonite). The one I want is from Mexx not Coach but this is the closest I could find. The one I was looking at was larger (taller and a bit wider--it can hold a clipboard), has thicker straps, is made out of a plastic and leather feeling material (more durable) and is green and brown with a buckle in the middle. It’s off-the-shoulder and therefore would be a good school bag. Right now it’s €30, but I hope if I go back next week it’ll be €20.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
My First European Shopping Spree
I cracked. I couldn’t help myself. It was bound to happen. It’s been about a week and a half and I have not bought any new clothes. We’ve had two free days and countless nights to unleash our Euros on unsuspecting European stores. But I have refrained. I have been prudent. You see, there are some people here only for the tour, while others are here for the tour and accompanying internships. But I’m here for exorbitantly longer. I can’t afford to waste money on things like shopping sprees to H&M, too many meals out, foreign beer or the like. And so I have resisted, expelling my Euros with considerable care. But even I have my limits. It happened on Friday, on a break from our presentations. Eurostat is the collector and disseminater of European statistical information. That’s all well and good, but the important thing to know is that it is located underneath a mall. So in twenty minutes (the time I had left after a quick lunch) I did some damage.
It’s really not that bad. It was all very reasonable—items that can be used for both the tour, internships and otherwise. And it was cheap too. I got everything for 50 Euros. That should ameliorate my guilt a little.
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