Monday, 2 May 2011

#004 - Topman Is Watching You


I’ll admit it now, I am a Topman hypocrite. I constantly deride the place, but a considerable portion of my wardrobe is populated with Topman clothes. Why must their clothes be lasting and reliable and oh so comfy? I want to stand against them, damn it.

But my justification is that I only buy the shit clothes that no one likes. The stuff they tried to make trendy but no one agreed, so they just shoved them on the sales rack a few months down the line for a much more reasonable price. That way, I save money, and no one realises I’ve brought my clothes from Topman unless they ask. To which I give an honest answer, unfortunately.

But honestly, walking into Topman is like stepping into a different dimension. I’ve never been in an Abercrombie & Fitch store (I doubt they’ll expand much in the UK outside London; nowhere else in the country seems so full of eye-scrapingly trendy folk obsessed with globalisation), but from what I’ve heard of it, I’m guessing it’s safe to say that Topman could be classed as its British counterpart; essentially a less glossy and oppressive version like every other British counterpart to something American.

No one on earth can be trendier than the guys who work in Topman. NO ONE. And I feel judged by every one of these meterosexual consumerism spin-doctors every time I go in the fucking place. And if the employees aren’t trying to make you feel insecure, then the mannequins in the store are doing their bit too, suited up to the nines in clothes that are so trendy that you don’t feel part of the real world anymore, just a Topman-headed regime forcing you to wear cricket-jumper-like cardigans and chinos for a few months until they think of something else to sell you.

My red shirt, shiny-grey suit jacket and every pair of jeans I’ve bought from Topman were all solid investments. But their gleaming modern stores of fashion perfection are something that are normally only seen in George Orwell’s nightmares.

SH.

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