Keep Calm and Remain Stationary…

I don’t need my iPhone display to tell me that September is upon us. You can feel it, see it and even smell it in the air.

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If July and August were all about shell collecting for me, then September brings the conker harvest. Memories of going to school with a carrier bag full of conkers and chucking the contents across the playground with an accompanied, “SCRAMBLE!!” (Wouldn’t happen today – the bags are 5p…)

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Of all the seasons, Autumn is my favourite as it reminds me of walking to synagogue with my dad to celebrate the start of the Jewish New Year. On our journey, we would look at the change in scenery, spot figs on a neighbour’s tree and I would collect conkers, storing them in his prayer bag to add to my collection at home. (Conkers, not prayer bags…)

You can just ‘smell’ autumn in the air – if I was cryogenically frozen a la Woody Allen’s ‘Sleeper’, I could easily sniff out Autumn.

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A futuristic conker

It may also be because there is another distinct smell in the air – that of parental relief that the kids are going back to school, quickly followed by the whiff of panic that a lengthy list of items needs to be bought from the uniform shop and stationers.

With a queue to rival that of ‘Thunder Railroad’, including ticketing and barriers, unfortunately the uniform shop ain’t no Disneyland. And there’s definitely no option to buy fast passes. (I would if I could.) Everyone is treated equally and there is no favouritism.

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There is a method of course…

Step 1 – Make a fucking list

Seriously – it’s uniform shopping 101. You have a line of bored, angry, frustrated, irritable people, many of them who would choose the returns queue at Zara over this shit. Make a list and make your time in the shop as quick and painless as possible.

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During a quiet period

 

Step 2 – Muster up lots of patience

As Axl Rose once sang, this patience needs to be doled out in bucketloads.954d455cd24bfa8eeac06c668042940d.jpgPatience with your kids, for other hapless parents and also for the poor staff dealing with your precious darlings who are arguing over the length of their skirt, itchiness of their jumper and the ridiculously oversized track suit.

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“It’s fine. You’ll grow into it.”

However, my patience wears thin when you consider that the usual staff count will have been bolstered with ‘holiday staff’. Under normal circumstances, I’m fully willing to give people a chance, but not the uniform shop. I have no shame in offering up the risky-looking temp staff member to the person behind me in the queue. I would much rather wait another few minutes for an experienced member of staff.

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The above rule also applies when it comes to buying school shoes. My youngest is ‘full of personality’ when it comes to shoe shopping and only one staff member will be able to fit her with minimal fuss. (She knows who she is.)

Armed with a supply of coppers to keep them occupied at the swirly-whirly helter-skelter charity box, I patiently wait until I get ‘my person’. Job done in just a few minutes.

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‘The Money Spinner’. (Trademark name fact fans)

 

Step 3 – Choose your branding wisely

Whether you go for sew-in, stick-in, stamp-in or reckless Sharpie daubing, the choice is yours when it comes to labelling it all. I have one friend who goes supersized on her sew-in labels, meaning her kids’ items can be identified from Mars.

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Personally, I opt for a mixture of all the possibilities listed above, but just know that I have it on good authority from a teacher friend of mine, that they’re more likely to hand back the easily identifiable stuff, than a biro scribble that has faded in the wash.

There is just so much to do, and we haven’t even covered my favourite part of it all – the stationery.

Much like new toiletries for holiday, there is nothing like filling a new pencil-case with smelly pencils, ridiculous rubbers and highlighter pens that never seem to be used for highlighting anything, just drawing emojis.

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I take it as a time to replenish my own home-stock – new sticky tape, glue, pens, post- its…all of which have depleted over the holiday with the amount of arts, craft and the slime factory which was shut down months ago, but I believe is still operating via an underground cell.

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The joy of throwing out the pencils that no matter how many times you try to sharpen them, the lead gets stuck in the sharpener. Or the pen that has no lid and has inked up the entire inside of the pencil-case. Colouring pencils that are down to the nub.

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And if you were ever in doubt of the correct spelling of the word ‘stationery’…

Stationery – it has an ‘e‘.. as in ‘envelope’. Which is a form of stationery.

(And yes, the use of ‘a’ in the word ‘stationary’ in the blog title is deliberate.)

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And proud of it

Good luck to everyone starting new schools. (Particularly those with correctly labelled stuff.) xxx

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes….

I would’ve liked to have called this post ‘Changing Rooms‘, but was worried you’d be hoping for home improvement tips from Handy Andy and Lawrence Lleweyn Bowen.

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Fixing and florals

I’m talking actual changing rooms, in a shop. For the most part, I try to do everything online as I just find it more efficient (and I’m all about efficiency), but from time to time I like to have a ‘shmy‘. Shmy is a wonderful word of yiddish origin (I think), which essentially means ‘to browse, have a looksie, without necessarily having something in mind that you’re looking to buy.’

I’m sure there have been a hundred blog posts about these horrific confined spaces that we voluntarily enter into, but here’s my observational two bobs worth…

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1. The Gathering

Once I’ve lacerated both arms and almost cut off my circulation from holding existing shopping bags, my handbag and potential purchases, I finally make it to the changing room.

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Serious arm damage

I long for the service you get in the States: “Hey, would you like me to go on and start a fitting room for you?” (Yes please, I just may need a reminder of where it is.)

 

2. How Many is Too Many?

Some shops’ changing rooms have a five items or less policy, some take you up to ten. I like the ones where they are completely unmanned and you just stroll right in armed with the entire store’s ‘nueva colección’. Basically stuff you like, stuff you know won’t suit you but someone was wandering around holding it and stuff you want to try because your favourite blogger said it was ‘the’ seasonal piece and it’s sold out everywhere.

The issue with the number tags they allocate against your item is when you start swapping stuff in and out. So, unless Carol Vorderman is manning the changing room, you’re leaving there holding six items, giving back a tag for ten items and there are three excess hangers on the floor, that may or may not have been there previously. (Either way, you’re made to feel like a shoplifter.)

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Scene of the crime

3. Curtain or door?

I must admit I like a door, preferably with a lock. Curtains don’t tend to close all the way and it plays havoc with my OCD, whilst I faff about trying to get it central enough to hide my modesty.

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The one on the right’s killing me

I also like to be positioned near enough to the rail of swap-in potentials. This means you have the ability to do the ‘peek-round-in-your-undies-with-the-curtain-wrapped-round-you’, politely asking staff if they’ll pass you the red top with the frilled sleeves. (And no, you’re not keeping the frayed hem jeans.)

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“Have you got this in a size 10?”

4. Added Extras

A stool, or even better, a chair is a nice touch. A shelf is always useful too. Big fan of the buzzer to alert staff that you need another size or just to ask their opinion without having to do the head poke.

A mirror is a given – preferably a flattering one. And shame on you Selfridges – some of your departments have changing rooms WITHOUT A MIRROR!! I don’t to share a mirror with a Russian model.

Plus, stepping outside is always a risk, especially when you need a particular item in a different size and the person right next to you has the only one left on the shop floor/in the entire country. *prays they abandon it upon exit*

Hooks, double hooks, rails… chuck it all in. The more hanging space the better.

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New Look hook situ, if you’re interested.

5. Order! Order!

The likelihood is, you’re shmying in your active wear and wearing the most unflattering sports bra. (And that’s just the men.) So, if you’ve got a variety of things to try on, strip off and do it properly – the floaty Vitakin dress is never going to look right with gym leggings and a battered pair of Asics poking out the bottom of it.

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Strong look

7. What’s That You Say?

You hear all sorts when you’re in a changing room:

…Crying baby and nappy definitely being changed (yuk) – Primark 

…Click of iPhone camera. Someone definitely taking multiple shots of themselves in different outfits and sending to a friend. I know this for sure as I heard them follow up with a phone call to said friend, demanding an immediate opinion – Topshop

…Teens discussing whether to get the black vest top for £2.99 one or the white one – New Look

…People taking calls and pretending they are at work/just not shopping in general – Zara (for the record I hate their changing rooms – they’re so tiny that your nose is almost against the mirror, so you’ve little choice but to swoosh back the curtain for a proper look in the big mirrors outside.

“I”m busy, Doll. Will call you back in a minute, I just need to finish something.” Me, today, Brent Cross, Fenwick changing room, on phone to husband dearest, taking photos of myself, Whatsapping to stylist friend. Standing, sitting and jumping up and inspecting from every angle. And if I like the item, I will of course take a ‘fresh one’ from the shop floor.

Oh come on, you know you do it too…

You’re a Hard Habit to Break

My family have a ‘whistle’. A code. We do ‘the whistle’ and we know we are in the vicinity of each other in public areas. To be fair, my dad was the originator –  I think it began as a ‘call’ for our cat ‘Tiddles’ when it was time for his ‘Whiskas‘. However, over time it became the family call-sign.

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Here, Kitty Kitty…

It signalled Dad’s return home from work, whereby I would eagerly race downstairs and shake his Evening Standard open in the hope of a Walnut Whip falling out, which was usually on a Friday.  Mid-week I might get a small paper bag selection of a white chocolate fish and chips, a foam banana and a squishy mushroom. Penny sweets = simpler times.

‘The whistle’ has forged its way into my own family, although the kids find it hard to get the exact tone right, especially the youngest who is still struggling with whistling full-stop. A replica high-pitched ‘wooohhhhh-hoooohhhhh’ is sufficient to get the ‘call sign’ out though.

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What’s your call sign?

In a busy shopping centre, or in a public toilet it’s super useful, particularly as I have kids entering the ‘Mum, you’re sooooo embarrassing’ stage:

“Are you still in the toilet, darling? Did you put paper on the seat?”

This vocal check is apparently unacceptable to my eldest whereas ‘the whistle’ is fine and thankfully met with a responding ‘wooh-hooh’, so I least I know she is still in there somewhere.

So that’s how it goes – at busy airports, theme parks, on a packed train, on holiday.

To me, there’s nothing more special that watching a loved one who is unaware that you’re present. I love seeing that instant recognition upon on their faces upon hearing ‘the whistle’ when they click that a key member of their crew is close by.

So this is one of my habits. My ‘thing’ which I brought to the family table. When you live with others you tend to adopt each others ways – my youngest now says ‘anyway’ a lot, as apparently picked up from my use of the word. People have even started to comment that my husband and I have have begun to resemble each other. (His boobs are thankfully smaller than mine.)

I’m not saying I surround myself with a bunch of circus freaks, but all we have our weird ways, habits, nuances. Am listing a few anonymously for fear of losing friends and alienating people….

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See if you can recognise yourself in any of them:

…saluting an ambulance.

…speaking directly to magpies with the whole ‘Hello Mr. Magpie, how’s your wife and kids?’

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Where’s your mates at?

… the need to peruse a menu online before eating anywhere.

…feeling genuinely upset if someone else cleans out the lint drawer of the tumble drier. (ahem…)

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*Must peel away in one swipe for maximum satisfaction*

…the inability to eat a biscuit like a normal person – jam sandwich creams get prized apart, marshmallow teacakes get dissected and my heart goes out to a Tunnocks caramel.

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… having to touch a plane exterior upon boarding. (Okay so that’s me, but you know that from reading previous blogs, so pointless me hiding it.)

…can only buy things in pairs, ensuring you never run out of something. Deodorant, fabric conditioner, Diet Coke, bin liners.

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This is her utility room. Joke… (ish)

…never walking on cracks on the pavement. (Standard. Who DOES that?)

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nB. Not my actual shoes. (Although ideal for crack-avoiding)

…won’t walk under signs. (It ruins your sex life, apparently. Watch people avoid them whilst wandering down a road. It’s hilarious)

…saying ‘Wed – nes – day’ in your head when saying or writing ‘Wednesday’

…no carbs after 7pm. (Definitely not me and I know some of you adopt the 6pm cut-off.)

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…enjoying carrots cooked, boiled, roasted, chopped. But if you grate them, forget it. (Also me.)

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Shouldn’t be allowed

…won’t dip into the new eye cream, moisturiser, whatever is in the pot, until the protective lid bit that has excess product on it has all been used up. (Would you believe it if I said this is me as well?)

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Lid product is life

…if you buy something online and it’s no good, no matter your plans the next day, IT MUST BE RETURNED!!! There are no exceptions even if it means dragging the kids to Brent Cross at 7:30 at night. Yes, even if it’s Zara.

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Photo credit: AAP IMAGES

…morning alarm can’t be set for ‘on the hour’ or ‘half hour’ (Yes. Me)

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Alarm bells ringing…

…will never wear an item of clothing again until it’s thoroughly washed should it have made direct contact with public transport. Nor would I they sit on their lovely, clean bed in said clothes.

Anyway…

Let’s not put a label on it…

Much of my youth was spent getting the 113 or 183 to Harrow Town Centre to hang out with my friends wandering in and out of shops like Dolcis, Tammy Girl and C&A.

I love learning about words and meanings (see previous blog about DHL) and often still call H&M ‘Hennes’ (Hennes & Mauritz). I’d never really thought about what C&A actually stood for. Someone – I think possibly my dad – told me that it was to help you work out which way round to wear your knickers. (Work it out for yourself…)

C&A may have long since closed down, (bar the one in Marbs in ‘La Canada‘) but the whole idea of labels and which way round things go has always stuck with me.

I recently went to fangirl Sali Hughes and Caitlin Moran at Stylist Live! who were talking about the ‘Power of Female Friendship‘. As most female chat tends to wonderfully tangent from its course, they hit upon the subject of which way round to wear your tights.

 

Sometimes, not always, tights have a label in them at the back which usually indicates size and/or denier. It also gives you a pretty clear indication that said label should be bum-side. Then, out of nowhere, you get a pair with no label at all. If the feet aren’t defined in any way, how am I supposed to know where to put my bits? I like direction!

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There’s not even a gusset?

 

It won’t surprise you to know that I can’t wear things inside out and will start again if I miss out a belt loop on my jeans. And if faced with the below dilemma, my eczema flares…

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Pass the Hydrocortisone 1%…

One Friday night – known as ‘CSD’ in my house (Clean Sheet Day), I was just drifting off to sleep when I realised there was something not quite right with the duvet. Head-end, I could feel the duvet label – my new cleaner hadn’t read ‘the manual’ properly…

“Doll, wake up.”

“Why?”

“The duvet is in the wrong way round.”

“What are you on about? It’s fine.”

“No, the label is by my chin. It’s supposed to be at the bottom. On your side. It also means I’ve got the bit where your feet have been.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

*Ignores husband and begins unbuttoning duvet*

 

When I buy a new top, one of the first things I do is perform a ‘shirtcumcision’.  I’m as pedantic as they come about hanging stuff up properly, but actually making use of hanger loops is a step too far, even for me.

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See? Even she can’t be arsed

Don’t get me wrong, I totally see the benefit of those loops in store. Nothing irritates me more when you so much as breathe near a top you’re interested in and the stock pathetically crumples to the floor. In that instance, I’m all for hanger loops to make the top look all lovely and attractive to the customer. Same concept as the wire twisty things that imprison Barbie dolls.

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Hell

These clothing loops also put me in a predicament because I am one of those people that likes to re-hang their stuff up upon leaving a changing room. Trouser legs pulled out the right way, tops not left inside out –  I am a re-hanger. I couldn’t bear to have someone think I was a messy cow at home.

Whilst still on the label thing, it seems an apt time to discuss the ‘Zara’. There are novels shorter than their care labels so unless you want the sensation of a tarantula next to your body each time you wear the item, I’m snipping.

The thing with labels is, I’m a genuine do-gooder if I see someone with their label hanging out of their clothing. Nothing worse than trying to rock your ‘Alaïa‘ when you’ve got your ‘Atmosphere’ label sticking out. (No shame in a bit of Primark.)

Some are beyond redemption. I’m talking about the ones who only manage to pull off the card bit of a label, but happily leave the scratchy, irritating plastic kimble bit behind. WTF?

I’ve come to realise though, that there are room for all sorts. I was with a friend the other day and pointed out that she still had the white pricing label on the bottom of a pair of fabulous shoes and did she want me to remove it for her.  She looked at me like I was a freak. I looked at her like she was a freak. We hugged. We’re fine about it.

All that aside,  just know that I’ll be the one with the white spirit, cleaning every bit of sticky residue off the soles of my own shoe collection.

(Oh, and C&A stands for the founders, ‘Clemens & August’. Not C*nt & Arse.)

 

Mummy Pig Goes to Prison

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If you need me, I’ll be at HM Prison Bronzefield.

Seriously, one day, I fear the nice staff on the tills or the online end of my favourite shops will politely yet firmly ask me to step aside whilst security take me ‘out the back’.

I am a ‘serial returner’, often knowing that the item will inevitably be returned. Poor size, poor quality, poor performance. Whether it’s for me, my kids, my husband or my home, in order to be a keeper it has to be perfect and sometimes I will only know that once I’ve got the item home. The amount of duplicate sizes of things I buy for my kids is insane. Or normal it would seem, as friends seem to experience much the same.

I am a Libran through and through: ‘kind, gentle and lovers of beauty, harmony and peace’. Sounds good so far but: ‘one of the most difficult things for a Libra is to take a decision. When faced with a choice, it is very tough for them to select what is best for them, which can become a big hurdle in their path.’  Yes, I know. First world problems and all that.

Yup. That’s me. Indecisive as hell, swinging like a pendulum as to whether I am completely sure about something, especially when there is such a broad choice. (Over 10 years into my marriage, he is definitely beginning to grow on me. Plus, he is well past his return date and I know my Mother in law wouldn’t take him back.)

I shred all useless receipts – and by useless, I mean I’m definitely not returning it/them. A box of red Lindor for example. Hardly going to have an issue with them now am I?

Stationery, supermarkets, restaurants. Those kind of receipts will usually be shredded. I’d love to say I check them off against my bank statement one by one like a fastidious friend of mine, but it gets to insanity point and takes me way back to University days in Manchester when the itemised phone bill would come in. My 5 housemates and I would sit round that farshtunken kitchen, as if we were FBI agents going through classified intel looking for clues. In reality, we were just cross-referencing who was racking up the lions share of calls, circling the ‘unidentified numbers’ and subsequently calling said number to discover who had made the original call. It was a false economy as we would inevitable do the it again next bill, querying the same number. All to save a couple of quid. (Although in fairness, £2 got you a round of snakebite n’ black in the 90s.)

“Hi, who do you know living in Mabfield Road, Manchester?” It wasn’t all fruitless – one call to a Birmingham number resulted in a marriage. True story.

So what of the ‘to keep’ receipts?

Well, these get removed from my wallet, kept in an interim clear plastic wallet, until they can be properly dealt with and filed in this receipt storage book (Hurry. There’s only 4 left according to Amazon.)

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She may not look a beauty, but this receipt storage book is flawless to me. (It’s the accountant’s daughter in me.) There is also a whole shelf of lever arch files and folders for instruction manuals, guarantees, warrantee and assembly instructions. Sometimes I may be a little too steadfast – am I really going to need the installation manual for my hob and downstairs loo? Unlikely. (Will keep for a while longer, just in case.) If something breaks, tears, shrinks, malfunctions or falls apart, I am ready with the receipt, guarantee, or Allen key that came with it. (My toolbox is a whole other blog post.) I don’t have time to search – a return needs to be made immediately, especially if it is dangerously close to the within ‘xx days’ return policy. So far, the system has yet to beat me. Even on out of guarantee items. Some people excel at parking ticket loopholes. Stores are my thing.

But not all returns are made the same.

I’ve highlighted a small selection of frequented shops. Feel free to comment with your own experiences and tips:

H&M (They do the best homewares which people often overlook. In my basket amongst kids leggings and plain white t’s, I often sneak in a few candles, bowls and napkins to add finishing touches to my home)

When returning an item, you think you have got off lightly with just one signature so you pass the pen back to the till person. But hold on. Not so fast. They operate a TWO part signing, including name, address and another signature. I am now ‘au fait’ with the fact that I don’t need to write out my full address – just the postcode is sufficient. (And good luck reading my handwriting.)

In general I can’t bear returning things to H&M – the queues can be vile (ditto some of the queuers). If I have no choice, them I try to return things to the Menswear section as it’s normally quieter. If you’re local to Intu in Watford, the upstairs bit in H&M is a brilliant hack as it’s normally really quiet. There’s no lift or escalator available so all the parents with buggies (who are generally the bulk-returners) can’t access this level. Hurray! I’m not being mean here. I used to be one of those people. However, I am now ‘BF’ (buggy-free).

If you ordered from H&M online then an alternative return service to the post office or to store, is to use the free (unless otherwise specified) myHermes service. They deliver and collect for stores including H&M, New Look, Next and that one I can’t pronounce, Vertbaudet. The first time I got a text to say ‘Your Hermes delivery is on the way and will be delivered between 15:00-16:00’, I honestly thought I was about to receive an extremely generous birthday present from the husband in the form of a Hermès Birkin bag. Ah, but not so. Hermes/Hermès. Such a subtle yet enormous difference.  (And yes, it took me about 6 attempts to get the accent grave over the ‘è’ from my laptop. At least on my iPhone is does it automatically.)

But no, Hermes ‘sans accent’ is a great courier service that delivers stuff you order online and then if you don’t like it, they come and collect it at a time that suits you.

Round my way, there is a lovely man called Barry that covers the local area. Everyone knows Barry. He’s like Postman Pat but without the cat. A local friend said she had a different Hermes delivery man, called Gary. She described him. His car. His bluetooth earpiece. The shorts he wears in all weathers.

Nope. That’s Barry. You’ve just been calling him Gary.

 

M&S (linking to the BEST diffuser out there IMO – come sniff my downstairs loo)

Not much to say here really except, whatever you do, don’t return to store. You have far better things to do with your time. You may think you have got there as the store opens. You may think you will be first in line for customer returns, but somehow, through clever store design, you turn the corner to the customer services department and WHAM! Straight into a line as long as 30 Colin the Caterpillar cakes. It’s not worth it. Collect+ is the way forward. If you order online – and have it delivered usually next day to your local store (even ‘Simply Food’ stores), just pack up your ill-fitting vests, tops and cigarette trousers that looked quite ‘Marant‘ online but much more ‘Matalan’ in the flesh. Then, find your local Collect+ store by postcode and just drop it off. Easy as M&S Steak Pie. (FYI, I love Matalan – they have some brilliant finds especially for my daughters, so no offence meant. Purely for comparison purposes and I’m gunning for the .)

 

Boots (taking you through to ‘Mummy’s special carrots’ as my youngest refers to them…)

My local branch is unfortunately quite small and lacking in range, but sometimes even by visiting a larger store I find I’m still short of something specific. Online ordering. It’s brilliant. Everything I need. And more. Plus there’s advantage card points. Offers are much easier to spot and click straight into your online basket rather than getting to the till in store and being told it’s ‘buy one get one free on toothpaste’.  Who can be bothered to weave their way back through the store? I normally go for the self-service tills, aiming for the thrill of a fuss-free transaction with no ‘unexpected items in the baggage area’. A rare but fulfilling experience. Much like M&S, you can order to any local Boots store and expect a text within a couple of days to say your order has arrived in store. All packaged up in a nice box, so no-one has to see your super plus Tampax carton poking out of your carrier bag. (Sorry, ‘bag for life’.)

 

Next (I want this for the Summer  – all 6.5 days of it if we’re lucky…)

Pretty on the money I’ve got to say. Returns are piss-easy. Just be careful you don’t make the mistake I recently made. Each item has a unique barcode. They don’t even need your original receipt anymore as they can tell if the order was made online, bought in-store, gift card, stolen (!) and then match it to the payment method. Unfortunately one item I was returning was a gift that I wanted to exchange. The payment went back to the gift bearer. Let’s hope they don’t check their receipts as fastidiously as I do…

 

Z

Zar

Zara

Sorry, I just can’t.

Ok. I’ll try. But only because I want to help others.

Zara (these I want for when the weather gets warmer)

Once the balance of ‘sale vs new collection’ is restored to a more sensible ratio, you can really see all the lovely things they have to offer.  (As opposed to a tiiiiiny corner with a couple of new tops and a pair of black palazzo pants, completely hidden by rail upon rail of sale mayhem.)

Zara is lovely. Zara has such nice stuff. Zara have finally added a ‘refund and exchange till’ to most of their stores. It used to be that you could duck into the back of the not-too-busy kids department for a swift return, but I think everyone cottoned on to this and as a result, Zara now staff it with the most miserable and moody staff members they can possibly find. This is how I imagine their interview process:

“Show me moody…”

“Show me miserable…”

“Show me your most audible ‘tut’… ”

“Show me your stapling skills…”

Some say don’t bother turning up to Zara for an exchange without proof of purchase or a gift receipt. I beg to differ. See me after the blog for more information. (You CAN beat the system. Trust me. I have intel.)

Instead of store purchases, online is pretty good but can take up to 3 weeks to arrive so it’s a risk you have to take, but be warned – I once got caught on an E&R trip (exchange AND return). Multiple receipts, frazzled staff member. It was a fiasco. And then she ran out of staples. I thought the girl was going to faint. Enough with the staples Zara. One receipt. With all the information on it. Come on Zara. You can do it… Take a leaf out of River Island‘s book – they seem to have it sussed. (And you still get a paper carrier bag)

 

The White Company (some say the kids nightwear shrinks. Wash it properly and I beg to differ. It’s beautiful, pretty, long-lasting and I always bag PJs in the sale for my girls)

If you’re paying full price, you’re obviously a tourist. I reckon I could re-paper my lounge with the amount of loyalty cards that pop through my door. You are probably carrying 3 out of date ones in your wallet. Yes. You. Bin them. And the WHSmith 20% off card from Christmas. Or is it of sentimental value?

Kudos to the White Company on their smiley staff, lovely range and serene stores, but 9 times out of 10 customers are buying items as gifts. That’s a sh*t load of tissue paper, wrapping, sticking and ribbon-tying in front of you in the queue. Even the staff apologise to you with their eyes for the long wait. Online all the way for me.

 

A recent trip to America and I have to say, they’ve got it right in their stores:

  • Staff members wandering around with handheld devices, taking card payment from people waiting in the queue
  • The ability to return an item at ANY till point within a department store
  • Plus, FREE CARRIER BAGS!!! Although, I’ve got to say, through habit, it’s been heart-warming seeing the array of bags for life that us environment-aware UK citizens are keeping on us, not to mention the Lakeland trolley bags in the boot of my car that I love to whip out.

On the flip-side it kind of makes me miss my Maclaren buggy and all its super useful bag-hanging properties. But then, how would I get to the upper level of H&M…?