Something wicked this way comes

If I were only allowed to pick out one defining annoyance from the eternal list of reasons for my hatred for January sales, it would be that they aren't even in January any more. A few posts back, I grumbled a bit about the dreaded sales but stopped myself before I reached a rant at the brink of no return, but I can't hold back forever. It used to be just after Christmas, whilst I was still bloating from mince pies and wearing a jaunty cracker hat, that I'd wince at footage of the sale scrums that would inevitably be shown as the 'And Finally...' on late night news. Oh, how I'd sneer, and vow never to be a woman so possessed by slashed prices that I'd freeze my behind off for an out of season, probably ill-fitting and tarnished garment. But low and behold, come December whilst some of us are still grappling to source the last Christmas presents for our beloved, the sales pack are back with a fevered vengeance fueled by bargains BEFORE the jolly fat man slips down the chimney. And in some ways I can see why; who doesn't want to save a few pennies at what is arguably the most expensive time of the year? But then I remember the horrendous cliched red and white bags that serve as a siren for sale devotees (and may I ask, when was it decided that sales warranted no merchandising?! That a red and white SALE banner was enough?!), and I start to feel quite nauseous. Scrabbling for discounted goods on the dusty floor whilst someone kicks you in the oesophagus just doesn't have that relaxing shopping appeal to me. Surely perusing the stores should be blissful and easy, not a foretelling of what World War Three would look like should it be headed by Donatella Versace and her motley crew of fashion scallywags. And besides, haven't these crazed people not heard of ONLINE sales?! If you're really that desperate, why not put your feet up and have a cuppa whilst snapping up the bargains? Well, I have a theory why not. The only lunatics unhinged enough to actually enjoy January sales are the kind of sadists that like to look their opponent square in the eye as they snatch the last size 10 Vera Wang dress and chortle all the way to the cash desk. Madness.
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