Hell

I went to Hell today, so now when people tell me to go there (you would be surprised, or not, how many times that comes up in a week) I can say I have already been there. In London, Hell takes the form of the Saville Row branch of Abercrombie and Fitch 5 days before Christmas. Kiki had her eye on a little sweater there and I went to see if I could find one today. What made it hellish? Well, it wasn't exactly the models from the catalog there today signing autographs wearing ski vests and no shirts. Nor was it the achingly beautiful salespeople who pounce on you if your eye rests on a t-shirt for more than 5 seconds, "Can I help you find a size or a different color". I also don't think it was the incredibly loud music that made the jeans vibrate off the shelves or the stench of the perfume being sprayed consistently. No what made it hell was that there was not one sweater in that place. Not a one. It is December. What did they have instead? Flip flops, shorts, camisole tops, bikinis. It was 35 degrees in London today. I do not need a groundhog to tell me we have more than 6 weeks of winter left in London. In fact I think without exaggeration we can double that. We have at least 12 weeks of winter yet, and all I can buy is a bikini at this store? I don't think so. Sorry Kiki.