Picture the scene: You’re scrolling mindlessly through the New In section of a clothing website. You skim the latest sartorial offering, barely registering the carefully merchandised array of velveteen and suede goodies, safe in the knowledge that your finely tuned fash eyes will detect any stand-out pieces; you’re basically on shopping auto-pilot. You’re feeling uninspired. You’re playing fast and loose with your scrolling tekkers; the whole operation is becoming a bit risky as you take one sweeping scroll after another, watching the threads fly up the page like the slots in a fruit machine. And then something catches your eye. OH BOY, DOES IT CATCH YOUR EYE. You see what it was you didn’t realise you were in desperate need of until this very moment. In all your giddiness, you accidentally scrolled past it; school boy scrollin’. You scroll back. The scrolling feels like it goes on forever. And then you see it again. There it is. That suit you always wanted. Except you’ve ‘always wanted’ it for all of five seconds. Still, that’s long enough to know that you *need* it. It would look great on you. Ordinarily coral washes you out but WHO THE HELL CARES: this is your dream bloody suit! Suck it up, sister. You load that bad-boy into your virtual shopping trolley and you check it the fuck out. Sure, you’re deploying some largely unnecessary expletives, but who can blame you? IT’S YOUR DREAM SUIT.
Happy fucking days.
*I was slightly drunk when I wrote this. The original featured an astounding amount of F words.