Humorous article

Christmas hasn’t even arrived yet and people are already planning how they’re going to attack the January sales.

I even overheard a flustered mother promise her son that he would get his plasma screen TV, but Father Christmas may be a bit late this year.

Don’t get me wrong; we all look forward to the January sales, especially after the headache of Christmas. It gives us a good feeling to know that our last crumpled up £20 note in the back of a pair of jeans can be spent on a sexy new top or pair of boots.

You know the kind of things that attract us all to the whole madness of shopping in the sales, the half price stickers in the windows of every shop, the thought of all those sales, and knowing that the top you asked for, but didn’t get from your forgetful boyfriend, will be half price and will seem that much more forgivable. Is it really something so many women, and sometimes men, should get their knickers in a twist over, though?

The problem starts when you arrive at your favourite boutique to find the queue spilling out of the doors onto the pavement. A crowd of eager women stampede into the shop with the aggression of a herd of elephants. You spy a gorgeous pair of jeans and instantly run over to the rail only to find every pair in size 14 plus. Why are all the sale items only available in the larger sizes? You then rummage through the shoe rack to find THE perfect pair of (fake) Jimmy Choos. Well, one of them anyway.

You have managed to snatch a handful of half decent clothes away from the claws of the other desperate shoppers, whilst being elbowed in the ribs at least ten times. Now to tackle the changing rooms with the typical no more than three items at a time rule. So breathing in as deeply as possible, you somehow manage to squeeze into your jeans (without any buttons popping off), and as for the shoes, well you soon find out what Cinderella’s ugly sisters felt like with the glass slipper. Coming out of the changing rooms you are instantly knocked back by a flurry of women, all climbing over, under and around you like monkeys on a tree, all for that crucial vacant changing room.

So what now stands before you? Well, you’ve conquered the mad opening time rush. You’ve discovered the lost treasure of those gorgeous jeans, and even managed to rummage for the matching pair of shoes. You’ve bravely faced the masses and somehow came out fighting. Next comes the biggest challenge of all, reaching the till. Before you stands a jungle full of lions, cheetahs, elephants, tigers. And lots of them. (You analyse with great optimism your chances of purchasing your items before dinner time. Not looking good).

Women push and shove, subtly trying to skip a few places in the queue. You timidly step in line, but no sooner has your foot left the ground than four others are jostling for a position. Confidently you stride over and brace yourself for the battering of yet more elbowing and shoving.

An hour later, yes an hour, you’ve somehow patiently endured constant elbows and pokes from all sides. You approach the desk, only to be confronted by a gum chewing, 19-year-old sales assistant with “I’m in training” printed on a badge. No matter, you think to yourself, surely it can’t get any worse. You soon realise thinking that only tempts fate. Slowly she folds the clothes, if you can perceive folding as stuffing it into a plastic bag with some remote form of folding it in two, all the time looking up and giving you a look of pure evil. Next comes “credit card in”, like some Native American Indian from a clichéd 1950’s Western. So, you proceed to put in those highly secretive details whilst the shop assistant is throwing you filthy looks (who knew there were at least 50 kinds of look to portray “Hurry up”?). With the reactions a gazelle has when running from its hunter, the shop assistant snatches away the machine and chucks a receipt into the bag.

After finally making it home you find yourself asking the question, are the broken ribs and many bruises really worth the strain and hassle of shopping in the January sales? In my opinion, yes, it’s worth the pain. Those bruises will be covered up by your bargains, ribs will repair but a heart heavy with the grievance of missing out on the sales doesn’t. Is it too early to be thinking about what you are going to be buying in the sales, though? Yes, it takes the excitement out of Christmas and also out of the sales as well. Although, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t want expensive looking shoes, but for half the price she’d normally pay? What woman wouldn’t want that matching top, for special occasions, that gives that extra “wow” factor? What woman wouldn’t want to walk into a New Year’s Eve celebration and not be the Cinderella of the party? I’m 100 per cent sure that the answer to all these questions is: No one.