Primark makes me want to jump off a very tall buiding…
Yesterday was a bank holiday Monday, and against my better judgement, we took to the local shopping centre to grab a couple of basics in Primark and have a wander around the homeware shops. It would be useful to note that it could be a Thursday morning at 9am, or a Tuesday night at 9pm, I would still hate going into a shopping centre - online shopping is truly my saviour.
We took the escalators up to Primark, a new shop here in France, and queued up outside to go in. Despite the amount of people waiting outside, I felt optimistic. Its was a beautiful day and we had it all to ourselves. There was a burly looking security guard outside checking bags, which left me wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into. I’d experienced Primark before in the UK, and as a result hadn’t been inside one for many years, but that experience couldn’t prepare me for the horror that awaited inside the French store. People. Everywhere. It was like the streets of London on New Years Eve, or at least felt very similar to it. You could barely move, having to squeeze past others, shuffling sideways at an agonizingly slow pace around the absurdly large and disorganised store. We only went in for a couple of basic t-shirts and a pack of boxers, but we managed to spend 20 minutes in that inferno of bodies. Once we had grabbed everything we needed, we looked around aimlessly for the tills. We started to follow a group of people, presuming they were heading that way themselves, and before we knew it we were standing outside the store with security running up to tell us to stop. We couldn’t tell where the shop ended and the rest of the shopping centre began. It was horrific. We quickly spun around and finally saw the sign ‘caisse’ and headed towards it. What we found was scarily long queue with a staff member holding a 7ft sign stating that it was a 10 minute wait from that point. Had I stepped into the wrong queue and ended up at Thorpe Park?
Once we reached the man holding the sign, we were directed to yet another queue, lined with rubbish that no one could ever have any possible use for, and I found myself in the worst mood I had been in for weeks. In just 20 minutes Primark had turned my good mood into a foul, bitter one.
Once we finally escaped I had to take 5 minutes for a long, silent hug, and treated myself to a bizzare looking stormtrooper pillow from the Disney store. We moved onto the homeware shops, where looking at minature olive oil bottles, copperware and vegan cookbooks improved my mood drastically. It’s safe to say, my second experience of Primark had been a thousand times worse than the first, and I will never venture into one again. Consumerism will be the death of me.