With the prospects of looking peng post quarantine more alluring than ever for my surgically-masked ronantic life, in my boredom and homebound misery, the shining beacon of online shopping has become entirely irresistible.
Naturally, when considering my favs, eBay comes top of the pops. Cheap vintage garms without the dickery of depop? Count me in. Topshop and UO also remain dependable, if not outrageously overpriced and excruciatingly basic. All in all, most provide a decent browsing experience.
Apart from one.
It’s the Bermuda triangle of online outlets. The black hole of all reason. The most devastating branding fuck up in the history of the internet. Its contents are an assault to the eyes, a butter knife to the brain, and have left me separated from my beloved due to its sheer audacity.
Yes, you’ve guessed it. We’re talking about Zara, people.
Refusing to conform to the usual practice of virtual retail, browsing their online catalogue is like attempting to read Sanskrit, and can only be described with actual laughter. Sorry hun, didn’t realise I entered a virtual art installation, not a clothing store.
Although in life I’m all for playing hard to get, after our resident Zara expert Ms Sandwejina was forced to throw in the towel, I’ve had to say enough is enough.
But you know what? Actions speak louder than words. So, I ask you dear reader, would you rather get COVID-19 or browse the Zara website? Here is a series entitled ‘woman wears clothes wrong’ to sway your reasoning. Please show your workings.
By Camy Sandford