7/31/09
Today we were taken to the Victoria Albert museum for the third damn time, however this outing called for a look at the British neoclassical period. The tour guide was quite enthusiastic about their upcoming exhibit on ceramics, and let me tell you I’m positively quivering with excitement. When shown a flyer, I felt rather sick looking at the extensive clipping masks used to cut out the various artwork (If you see me wearing those shirts that spell out words using the Mac command keys, you know I’ve officially lost it) and then I realized their crap graphic designer had repeated about half of them. If we had pulled that sort of bullshit in class, we would have been taken behind the back of Nesbitt and pelted with old ink cartridges, or put out of our misery Lassie style.
However, what I would really like to talk about, other than my bittersweet and tainted relationship with the Adobe Suite, are the magical differences between American and British retail. My flat is located around the corner from Kensington High Street, which is synonymous with shopping. We have a Miss Sixty, Uniglow, Karen Millen, Aldo, Marks and Spencer, Top Shop, etc. etc. The only things that really register with me are the H&M, Zara, American Apparel and Urban Outfitters. Karen Millen is one of my favorites, but isn’t that popular in the States, so I tend to rape and pillage the outlet right by my home in Massachusetts for cheaper. I want American Apparel to die a slow and painful death, and I’m not at all impressed with Top Shop, or its Kate Moss line. Funny how she sells out and gains weight at the same time.
Oddly, one of the better stores on the street is H&M. I don’t like to shop there in America, I feel like it looks cheap and if I need basics I’m not about to cheat on GAP. We’ve been through too much together. However, the one here is rather trendy and has everything for both the scene Eurotrash and classy/alcoholic British businesswoman all in one place. The men’s section looks rather dapper as well, and I started to browse for my brother (sadly, he would live in sweats if given the chance, and I have taken it upon myself to attempt to turn him into a socially acceptable human being) until I realized the little bastard didn’t deserve the exchange rate. DON’T GO TO BRANDEIS.
When I first discovered the Zara in center city, my excitement quickly turned into withering disappointment. This was not the shining beacon I had seen in advertisements, but rather a bunch of overpriced harem pants and awkward length dress jackets. On the contrary, the one here is quite amazing although out of my current price range. Even the GAP is trendier than the one at home, and leaves me shaking my head and cursing the heavens. The British can look well turned out on a low budget, something that takes a little more difficulty in the land of the free and the WWF. The only thing that we have one-upped them on is the Urban Outfitters, and after visiting the market at Brick Lane, I don’t even think I trust them anymore.
Brick Lane is where more of the “real” Britains go, to listen to their silly grunge and wear their silly mohawks and drink their silly pints before passing out in the silly gutter. The street art I have seen there is yet to be surpassed, and it gives the whole area a wonderful eclectic feel. There are quite a bit of vintage shops and boutiques and the Sunday market was a lot of fun. It’s a large covered area, with tons of booths inside all holding the clothing and jewelry of unknown designers, from the looks of it straight out of fashion school. It was basically what Urban Outfitters aspires to be, except cheaper because you can haggle with these poor poor students. I ended up dipping into my pot of Jew gold to pick up a dress and scarf from a tired Asian man. They were both one of a kind and hand made, and make me very happy. (Which sadly isn’t that hard) I ended up shaving seven pounds off the original asking price, and got them both for a total of twenty-three pounds when I could have easily blown over 100 for them at Urban. The rest of the market contained food vendors, and I celebrated with Chinese, considering I had been smelling it the entire day. I look forward to exploring the rest of the Brick Lane area. And by that I mean its bars.
On a side note, it’s rather hard to try and keep things in perspective and not blow unnecessary money over here. I know when I come back to reality (fucking Drexel) I don’t want my quality of life to go down because I decided to pitch a tent and camp out in the pubs. Even though I go shopping quite a bit over here it’s mostly for comparative purposes, and I rarely buy anything, go out to eat, buy my own drinks, etc. I know it’s far too late in the game for people to come visit me, but if anyone wants to visit London on a reasonable budget it’s totally feasible. Just understand you will be eating pure crap.
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