Ah, Primark. I do love you. I’m not supposed to, but I do. I’m supposed to shun you, because of ‘disposable fashion’ and all of that, but the truth is, I don’t care. I just can’t resist all your ridiculously low priced trinkets and the way you give me the chance to treat myself once in a while without feeling guilty about spending frivolous money. So bless you, Primark, and all your lovely, cheap wares.
Unfortunately, the above type of gushing comes back to bite me in the butt every now and then, because as well as offering me a chance to treat myself once in a while without feeling guilty about spending frivolous money, it also offers me a chance to completely lose my shiz and act like a brain dead moron. Oh the power of a dress that costs less than £20! I do like to think of myself as a pretty sensible person usually – despite my insatiable lust for shopping I’m a hard bargain hunter and I like to get my moneys worth – but every now and then, the heady excitement of a tiny price tag bubbles over and I do something really daft. Which is kind of the story of this dress.
Not that I think this dress is a daft purchase, you understand. The moment I laid eyes on this dress I wanted it and my feelings haven’t changed. In fact, looking back at the pics has reminded me just how much I love it. However, I was not in any way, shape or form thinking straight when I bought it. In my defence, I was not in my regular Primark at the time. Everyone knows that a Primark in a different city is 10 x more exciting – yes, even though it’s all the same stuff! I was on a weekend away in Scotland at the time, and while it was more than likely I’d be able to get the same frock back at home a couple of days later, something primal in me decided it was too risky to wait and urged me to buy it right now this second lest I regret it for the rest of my life. So I did. I hurriedly grabbed a dress on a size 10 hanger and dashed to the checkout. Out I skipped all chuffed with myself, completely unaware that I had made the most amateur of errors – I had simply glanced at the size on the hanger itself and not bothered to check the label. Foolish, I know, because when we got back to hotel hotel I quickly realised my mistake when my friend found she couldn’t do the zip up. We aren’t talking a zip that was straining a little here – the two sides weren’t even close. That zip would not be going up for love nor money, which led me to a momentary panic of ‘Holy crap! I know I haven’t been the most disciplined lately, but have I really put on that much weight??‘ I breathed a sigh of relief once I realised my dim error, and annoyed the crap out of everyone on the way to the train home by making them all wait while I took it back and exchanged it for the correct size.
My act of stupidity did not end there though. You would think that after trying on something just one size smaller than usual – a size that actually quite often does fit me on my top half, because it’s the old tum and bum where I tend to carry any excess pounds – and finding it seemingly more appropriate a fit for a small child as opposed to an adult woman, I might have erred on the side of caution and tried it on? Course not. I went ahead and just assumed all would be fine, because CUTE and CHEAP and WANTIT. This time I didn’t realise until I was halfway through my Tenerife holiday several months later and far past the point I could appropriately take it back for a second time! Thankfully, it wasn’t a lost cause this time, and I do still love the frock, but it was more than a little snug in the bust area…. Once done up it wasn’t actually uncomfortable, so I’m in two minds as to whether to go for third time lucky on eBay or just do my darndest not to put on any more weight before the next time I wear it, but we’ll see!
Any bargain induced acts of stupidity you’d care to share with the group? Please say I’m not the only one…?