Wednesday, 27 August 2008

Abercrombie and Fuck You

When I heard that Abercrombie and Fitch had opened a store in London, I put it in the same 'huh' news catagory as 'the A1 past Hanger Lane is a bit sluggish today' and Jessica's status is '...' according to Facebook.

I vaguely knew A&F to be a Gap-ish like clothes shop in America that people seem to love, even though as far as I could work out it sold either bland as fuck clothes or highly branded bland as fuck clothes.

Yesterday however, I happened to be in the area, so decided to visit the London A&F store. Within two seconds of entering it shot up from being a thing I had sort-of-heard-of-kind-of to being my official Worst Shop in London and Possibly Ever. - a title snatched away from Halfords in Friern Barnet Retail Park with considerable aplomb.

Where to start? Oh, well as you enter, you can queue to have your photo taken with a shirtless male hunk and keep the polaroid to show all your friends back home. Why? So you can tell them you shagged him? So they can be impressed that you stood next to someone with a six pack? Because some of his fitness might rub off on you and make you look less like a fat tourist in a straining pair of chinos and sweat drenched 'I heart London t-shirt'? *shudder*

This isn't apparently just a random act of whoring: A&F is known for it's good looking staff and presumerbly being pimped out to hormonal girls is part of the job description. I did wonder about this alleged hiring policy, as it appeared to be very much in action in the London shop and surely smacks of discrimination if true. Is anyone who reads this really fat/hairy/muslim/tattooed/all of the above? Please apply and let me know how you get on.

Anyway, inside. You know what I hate more than bland as fuck branded clothing in a million different pastel colours? I hate being lost in dark crowded nightclubs while shit trance music thumps so loud I can't hear my own angry thoughts.
Random? No, no, no, THIS is Abercrombie and Fitch, London. Confusing, as A&F is what one is supposed to wear to a chase a labrador across a beach in the Hamptons with your wholesome looking boyfriend, so the Ministry of Sound get up is beyond infuriating.
They even have two of their Stepford employees dancing on a balcony as if to say 'Hey, this is really fun! I always like to rave it up in the middle of the day wearing stonewashed bootleg jeans and a cornflower blue vest top!'.

It's a wonder the staff get time to actually fold jeans in between being groped and pretending to be 'aving it large', but I gather it's actually an honour to work in A&F as it means you are 'fit'. Fit and presumerbly also as thick as two short planks to allow yourself to be exploited in such a manner for £6.50 an hour.

Shops like A&F with concieted good looking staff (Urban Outfitters is another prime example) also irk me, as until a few years ago, I would be seriously intimidated about going in them, actually being worried about what the staff would think of me. Fortunately, now I am not just confident enough in myself to know I am as 'fit' as them, I also don't fold t shirts for living and could buy that whole pile of muthafuckin' folded Micky Mouse stencilled abomonations if I wanted to.

edit: Ooh I just found THIS article by someone at the Daily Mail *hock, spit* who went undercover at A&F. He said what I said but in a more boring way.

edit: while looking for a suitable image for this entry, I came across their website description - 'The highest quality, All-American lifestyle clothing for aspirational men and women'.
I think I just vommed in my mouth and waged war on the West.


Raffles said...

I very much enjoyed this post. A big hearty, none Trancey, lurpak (no sixpacks) Arf!

Dirty Dancing Dunc said...

A firend just visited this store and relayed the horror, Jess mentioned your blog. v.funny. I may have to visit the store just for the experience. Do they have women in bikinis?... although this may appear a sexist comment, I'm only thinking of the unions and equality in the workplace.

The only thing I remembered about them was they were in trouble while back for racist t-shirts:

Also, I know somebody who used to work there. You do have to be a model, and being a massive tool also helps. Here's a quick rundown of my worst shopping experiences.

1. Primark - Retards, thousands of them. I was dragged here and it was a living hell. There is nowhere to sit. There are millions of everything but everyone is in a massive rush to grab stuff. Also the fact that the clothes are made from the skin of non-denominational asian children means that everything tears really easily...and summat about human rights etc.

2. Subway - This is a little more personal. First time I had ever been to subway was with newly acquired friends on trip round New Zealand. Had a few lunch time beers followed by large spliff. Munchies kicked in, subway was nearest. You don't realise how unbelievably complicated subway is to the uninitiated, especially thoose with reduced brain function. It was literally like 20 questions!
Which bread would you like? They are all the same shape and colour, only difference being some are apparently fucking Italian whilst others have extra coating of cheese. What happened to white or brown!!!
Which filling ? It's not like McDs where you can just point! I pointed at the wall picture...not good enough. 'Choose your slop please sir'
Which cheese ? These are not even labelled, choice is in shapes rather than varieties/flavours!
which dressing ? 8 dressings that all look like mayonaise, some with a few more dots of what I can only assume are mustard seeds (rather than the more likely rat droppings)
Stoned indecision plus horribly embarrassing confusion equals a heroic effort on my part. Only to end up with something that tastes horrible and half disintegrates in your hand (bit like McDs then). Subway - How to lose friends and eat badly.

3. TESCO - Wankers by trade. I tried to return 3 bars of branded TESCO cooking chocolate that had been opened and looked like it had been held against a radiator. Them :Do you have a receipt?
Me:No but I shop here everyday, I practically know your name...Sanjeef ( racist steroptype maybe, but they are all Indian and definitely recognised me)
Them: Well we don't know where you bought it from here.It could have been any TESCO.
Long argument ensued. No returns. I had last laugh. I waited until he turned the corner and swapped them anyway. 1-0 me.

4. Every shopping centre ever. My nightmares consist of rumours of a place called Westfied.

P.S my jobs quite boring.