Editor's Blog Jan 30th 2012
I went with a friend to the Cañada on Saturday to shop for some clothes and even though I had a big German breakfast, nothing could have prepared me, for what is the horror, of Hollister.
Don’t be fooled by the faded blue surf shack façade, or the totally random chandelier at chest level, its just eye candy bait for the Justin Bieber wannabes and, their equally vacuous girlfriends. Any establishment that refers to males and females, as Dudes and Bettys, deserve nothing but a Molotov cocktail through the window.
Not being one, to normally wear clothes with some bloke or company’s name emblazoned all over my attire, against my better judgment I went in at my mates persistent cajoling. He needed some sweat pants. (I could not agree more)
It was dark… very dark. Chart music was being played at an ear splitting volume with sounds of the sea mixed into the main track there was a smell of some rancid perfume hanging in the air like a miasma, punching you in the nose with a stinging jab every step I took deeper into that cave of terrors.
Standing in strategic areas around the shop, you would see tall skinny youths with the faux surfer look waxed hair, folding clothes onto the display units. Pale and good looking in the sparkly kind of new vampire way, I just wanted to punch them in the face, stop the bleeding in my ears and walk out.
After some 15 minutes we were finally at the check out, I was voicing my dislike for all that is Hollister at the top of my voice and even then, my voice was no match for the crap spewing from the sound system. (I think I ruptured my Larynx) My Mate looking at me and having a good ole laugh at my discomfort. He started paying for his sweatpants; I could not take it anymore. Like a rugby forward I ploughed my way out not even returning the vampires farewells.
I stumbled the last couple of meters onto the balcony finally free of the clutches of that rank shadowy cavern. I looked at the welcoming brightness of the shopping mall. Gasping for fresh air, my heartbeat began to return to normal. I looked down at my hand and saw it was holding one of them small paper bags with a T Shirt with some surfer nonsense and the Hollister cant get any bigger name festooned all over the chest, I’ve been hoodwinked by Hollister’s sales trickeries
Nooooooooooooooo!
