Label paranoia

c: | f: /

Look left. Look right. Look dead ahead. Arrrgh! The fashion clones are taking over the town.

Jack Wills is stalking me.

I was minding my own business when he came round a corner, his name emblazoned on the front of his T-shirt like a narcissistic homage. On the next street over, the clever sod has doubled back. I saw him from the rear this time where his moniker was also splashed. The guy sure loves himself.

In the town centre I passed him again. This time he’d changed his appearance slightly but it was obviously just a bad disguise because the name on the T-shirt gave him away. Not very bright.

But after the fourth guy I got seriously spooked and, like a tweaked out junkie, started to look around at everyone I passed with a suspicious glare. I was onto him, yet somehow wished my baseball cap was foil-lined. What had I done? Why was he out to get me? And how could he be everywhere at once?

Luckily I fetched the shopping and escaped, hotfooting it home while dodging the ubiquitous Mr Wills. But on the way back I was also astounded at how many members of staff Paul’s Boutique has. Hundreds of ‘em. All I can surmise is that this talk of a deep recession is fearmongering, because the company are clearly hiring teenage girls aggressively.

Unless they’re just cheap labour.

Speak up at the back


(required, never made visible)

(optional, linked with rel="nofollow")