Saturday, 1 December 2012

Brighton Blowout & Primark Palava [or; 'Why I now own a onesie']

Primark logo brown paper bag
I should really hoover the carpet...
When I lived in Brighton during my university days, I tried to always stick to the (well, my) golden rule of "NEVER go shopping on a Saturday."

An influx of shoppers (read as morons) descend into the city on weekends. These shoppers are the kind which can't comprehend how to walk with any purpose, and love to abruptly stop in the middle of pavements to do nothing accept halt the 100s of people behind them.

Travelling to Brighton today to buy some bits and pieces then, was a very bad idea.

For some reason, I convinced myself that - despite Christmas being just around the corner - it wouldn't be too busy, due to the freezing cold weather. I even gave the expected shoppers the benefit of the doubt, thinking they wouldn't dither about so they could quickly get home and out of the cold.

Oh, how wrong I was! Slow-walking dimwits littered the streets, and Primark.

Primark Palava

I know, I know...Primark is basically the Dante's Inferno of stressful shopping experiences. Needing to buy a few pairs of thick tights for winter however, I figured this the best place to start my shopping trip (strangely, Primark is one of the few places I can find affordable tights long enough for my 6ft 1" frame).

I was also thinking I might be able to find a cheap, attractive pair of flat shoes there.

Collecting my tights on the ground floor was relatively easy. It's when I started hunting for shoes on the top deck that I became increasingly frustrated. Not only did it seem like people were purposely getting in my way at every turn, but I also heard many inane snippets of conversation, such as the following:

  • GIRL #1: "O.M.G, look at how much stuff you're carrying!" GIRL #2: "I know! I don't even really want any of this stuff!" *Proceeds to throw another pair of glittery heels into her basket*
  • GIRL #3: "I don't have an eating disorder, all girls make themselves sick these days."
  • GIRL #4 (to her friends, regarding shoes): "So, are you thinking party-glam, glam-glam, glamour, glamour-casual, casual-casual, or killer-meets-casual?"

Oh dear.

Anyway, I eventually found some flats I liked in size 9 and tried them on. Too big. I hunted for, and eventually found, the same shoes in an 8. Too small. Right...

At this point I'd given up on the shoes, and decided I should just queue up to pay for the tights. Only the queue was MILES long. I ditched the hosiery and decided to shop elsewhere.

Upon leaving Primark, I saw the pavements had become even more crowded, so chose to stand out of the way and smoke a cigarette (I know...) while deciding my next move.

I started people-watching and quickly noticed how most were discussing Christmas and carrying multiple bags of gifts for friends and loved ones. This is a bit of a sore point for me since my family is not celebrating this year (there's a few reasons...). After my final toke, I didn't much fancy going into any other shops, especially because it was so cold out.

But I really did need to buy tights! Back into Primark then. SIGH.

Did I leave with just tights? Ha! It's always leave with more than you go in for!

I was shivering and noticed a selection of women's and men's onesies hanging up by the hosiery section. I almost resisted the temptation (I've previously mocked the onesie trend), but knowing my flat would be freezing this evening I gave in and bought one.

I didn't like the women's options - a rabbit, and an unidentifiable pink thing - and so I chose to buy the men's skeleton option.
Primark skelleton onesie men
£12, Primark
Primark bone onesie head feet and non-slip grip
Skeleton hood, feet and non-slip grip
Primark only had this onesie in an XL, so not only is it too wide but, surprisingly, it's too long for me also. It's not like I'm going to wear it outside, so who cares right (plus extra material theoretically equates extra warmth...)

At the till I also succumbed to an impulse purchase - a small vial of Argan Oil. I've been meaning to deep-treat my hair for a while since I've dyed it so much lately, but I'm still kinda peeved I bought something else I had not originally intended to - it best do wonders for my locks!
Primark Argan Oil hair treatment
£2.50, Primark
Noticing the checkout dude was dragging the legs of my new onesie across the floor while packing it into a paper bag (covering it in dust and various bits of Primark-label debris in the process) I decided Home Time was long overdue.

Brighton Blowout

As if I wasn't already in a foul mood, I nearly died on the way back to Brighton train station. Seeing the traffic lights of the road I needed to cross were red, I started walking. As I got to about three quarters of the way to the other side, the lights lit amber.

Apparently amber is the new green though, and an impatient taxi driver started driving speedily towards my legs, which I very nearly lost. I yelled "PRICK!" and angrily moved on.

Right, I'm done venting for now. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to climb into my onesie and huddle under endless blankets...