Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard.
Where anything goes.
-//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7
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Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard. Where anything goes. -//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7 |
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Saturday, November 11, 2006 DISCLAIMER : If you feel you are a "vertically-impeded" person, please exercise great discretion in continuing to read. Well, this post has been held over from last weekend, largely because I didn't actually finish what I wanted to do last weekend ... and I still don't think I've finished it. But I've actually committed myself (if you can call a 90-day money back guarantee a commitment) so I think now's as good a time as any to write. Yes, I've been doing what anyone with more money in their pocket than brains in their head have been doing. And when you consider that I haven't all that much money in the first place, there could have been very much brains to go along with it. Shopping. Of course. As one of the local Britishers corrected me, "You haven't actually BEEN shopping if you didn't buy anything, did you?" Well, if it takes up my time, and I went about it willingly (as opposed to being forced to shop, as happens with things like necessities) then it's good enough for me. But they have a point. You can enjoy shopping, but you can't exactly call it a fruitful experience until you've bought something you wanted to buy. Well, I wouldn't exactly call it what I wanted to buy. I wanted to buy a full-length coat, with a nice belt around the middle so you can tighten it up (and turn half the population jealous at your slim waist ... well, slim for someone in England), but, unfortunately, all the full-length coats I saw were such that the cloth kind of pulls itself straight when I put it on, given my lack of figure, so when I tried it on I look a lot like a some monk complete with overlarge collar. I'm not fashion-stupid enough to walk around looking like a monk, although I must say some English people are. An impossible dream? Maybe ("A bit of silicon will do you some good, dear." "Shut up."). I fancied some other stuff that didn't make me look somewhat ridiculous, one of the better ones I've seen being a knee-length stuffed jacket with furry hood going for about 80 quid. I could have bought that, but I notice locals don't really go around in stuffed jackets so walking around in a eskimo outfit might distinguish me too obviously as some ignorant gaijin. A misappropriation of term, but when you go to Japan you know how unpleasant it is to stand out (i.e. when you're wearing trousers when everyone is going around in a knee-length skirt. In December). Anyway, given the liberal exchange and refund laws, I guess I'd be at liberty to make the exchange should I need it. So, for 60 quid, I bought a shorter coat, that's able to bring out some kind of curve out of my otherwise ramrod-straight figure, which comes to about thigh-length. Or that's what it seems to be. What it seems to be? Ah, that brings me on to my next rant, no, exposition on shopping in UK. Now, I'm about *calculate calculate* quite a few or so inches under six feet. Which, as I explained in my rant about Australians some time ago, is pretty alright for an Asian but is somewhat mediocre for an Anglo-Saxon girl. Now, it might offend some people in Asia to say this, but ... well, it's not me, it's the British (and maybe some other) people who say this. Everyone under five foot three inches, approximately 1.6m, is "petite". That's right. What's a pretty average height for girls in Singapore is considered to be the XXS of the West in clothing size classifications. Well, of course some of you might find some particular appeal in being deemed "petite", but I consider it rather demeaning, which is why I'm glad I'm not officially "petite" by definition. I didn't have time to explore this in Australia because I was too busy cooling off in the hotel room to actually go out shopping and looking at things. But the funny thing is, "petite" things fit me pretty well, while the "normal" stuff is way too big. Meaning, I'm really much thinner than I think I am (which is NOT true, I'm as fat as a tub of lard, really), or that what British people consider "petite" is really pretty big by our Asian standads. I don't think it's too much of a stretch to accept that, generally, the fact that whites are bigger than Asians expresses itself in the size of clothing. But what does make things difficult is that unless you're taller, or of reasonable bulk (which would get you labelled "obese" in Singapore), you can forget about finding any clothes that can fit you well. In fact, to be very honest, some of the children's outfits are big enough for those fully grown Singaporean girls 1.6m and under to wear. No, in fact, for me to wear, too. If I need more blouses, I might buy some of those "school uniforms", too. Well, enough about demeaning vertically-impeded people. I think about 2/3 of Singapore girls would be strongly offended by the comments made above. Let's deal with this situation very fairly, explore the other side of the spectrum and make me feel miserable. Although I don't guarantee those 2/3 of Singapore girls will feel any better. Quite a number of established chains in England, as I can see from Cambridge, also have a line of wear called "tall" wear. Yes, "tall wear". If "petite" wear is already as big as I claim it is, how much so "tall" wear? I shall pause for a moment to allow those whose self-confidence has already been shattered to depart ... ah, okay. Let's put this very frankly and fairly with some comparisons to make me feel miserable (and to make those of you who are already miserable yet more so, maybe). The collar of a bathrobe is over my head. The straps of an evening gown are about the level of my ears. The top of those loose, bum-baring jeans is already over my stomach (not that I was dumb enough to try and put them on). And, in what seems a deliberately provocative move, quite a few of the racks of clothes were so high up the shelf that I couldn't reach them to take a look and compare the dimensions to masochistically torment my sense of self-image further. Who actually buys this stuff? Of course, I have seen some really tall girls in this country so far. To be very honest they all look like beanpoles, but maybe that's because I'm a jealous little midget. No guessing that they'll be right at home in shops with such a department ... but it just strikes me as somewhat absurd ... wouldn't that mean that tall girls would generally end up wearing the same thing if they all go to shops with such departments? And isn't it the most sickening thing to meet someone who's wearing (almost) the same thing as you are? Or do the shops think that the distribution of tall girls is thin (haha!) enough such that it's unlikely they'll ever meet each other? Maybe playing netball or something, but that wouldn't be in jeans, or an evening dress, would it? Oh, further ponderings. Alright, so maybe it doesn't compensate for all those remarks about vertically-impeded people. But it gives the other side of the story. And Jane, assuming that you don't know about this already, there's no need to feel bad for yourself (I'm dedicating my next piece of "short" writing to you, by the way). Whoever said that shopping doesn't exercise your capacity for thought must be a very drab person indeed. Or a man. Well, that might be synonymous. Does that mean you should stay tuned for more "man" jokes? Um, never mind. posted by Charlotte | 11:50 pm
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Disclaimer : The Slayers and Filia Ul Copt and all images thereof are the property of Hajime Kanzaka and Rui Araizumi. I don't own any of them, although if I had a choice I would want Filia ... ~//n_n\\7 |
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