Into the Jungle of Hollister

Today, my friend and I ventured into a city. The specific details of the city in question are none of your beeswax. It is the friend I wish for you to focus on.

Said friend is part of a complex party of friends, some of which are aware of each other's existence and have met, some which are friends, and some of which are completely in the dark. This is not a school friend, but a relatively good friend whom I have had the joy of knowing for several years.

I do sometimes worry, though, that this person is heading slowly but surely towards the sceney hipster route. It started off with the large glasses, the big hair, the oversized ninja hoodie, the mention of coontails in her hair. What do you do when you think your friend is a completely different person to who you first met (completely different, albeit likeable and lovely in a sceney/hipster way)?

You allow them to drag you into Hollister as a test of your closeness.

Pardon- hell.

I was lucky in that outside Hollister there wasn't a shirtless model (probably because it was raining) but if there had been, I would have stabbed him in the stomach with my umbrella, nicked his ridiculously large wages and donate them to charity. Until today I had never ventured into Hollister- fear made me hold back- but I took a step into the unknown. And it was like an alien planet.

Those of you fortunate enough to have never been into Hollister may have heard of the darkness. Hollister is supposed to give of a beachy kind of vibe, but the last time I went to a beach, I don't remember it being like going for a run at midnight wearing sunglasses. I have two theories about the lighting in Hollister: A) They don't want you to see the price tags on the clothes, so you won't know you're buying a £98 hoodie until you get to the till *ahem* beach shack. B) They want to laugh at you when you fall into one of the numerous amounts of potted plants they have in there. I mean, who needs that many potted plants? What is the point!? It's like a bloody jungle!

Another thing about Hollister is that all of the models look confused. They have these honking big pictures of shirtless guys with the exact same looks on their faces. You can practically read their minds: why aren't I wearing a t-shirt underneath this gilet? How impractical is this clothing?!


I've also braved the Hollister website. It is more sickening than the actual store. You don't shop 'men' and 'women'- you shop 'dudes' and 'bettys.' What in the name of all that's good and proper is a 'betty'? My entire sex has been renounced to 'betty.' And a funny thing is that the website is almost as dark as the shop. Plus, they don't actually tell you the name of what you're buying. It seems like the simplest, most helpful thing you could do, and they don't do it. For example, you go into the 'Tops' section for 'bettys' and you are met with all the products, but what should be labelled as 'white knitted cardigan' is in fact labelled as 'Belmont shore.' All of the clothes are named after beaches and places the English will never have heard of in their lives!

And with that, it's this betty out.