
It was exactly a week since the opening of Topshop on Broome and Broadway in NYC. I had heard about the lines around the block to get in but thought it would be safe going a week later – in the middle of the day – on a work day – BOY was I wrong. As I waited in the line, pushed along like cattle by the security guards, cramped close together by more and more short steel fences, I told myself that I was only going in the store for research, being the recessionista that I am. After 40 minutes in line I was told the store could only let 75 people in at a time. I walked into the double doors and all my frugal thoughts were forgotten. Mannequins styled throughout the store in colorful clashing clothes with soft-fringed leather handbags and multiple chain mail gold necklaces down to their belly buttons. Don’t forget those shoes-white platform patent round toe high heels straight out the 70’s disco fever.
I was so overwhelmed on the first floor that I felt assured that men’s was upstairs so I could take my time but no, I was wrong again. There were three floors dedicated to me. The accessories were all oversized, dramatic chandelier earrings that fall past your chin and rings the size of silver dollars. There were basic tee shirts and then various colorful silhouettes that had asymmetrical hemlines or large arm holes and draping on the sides. There were white fishnet leggings, black and white palettes mini skirts, gold shimmery tank tops, adorable navy lady like blazers mixed in with booty shorts and every color of skinny jean you could think of. There were denim jumpsuits, high-waisted shorts, and mini tutu skirts, blue and white striped button up. There were cropped leather blazers, and long cardigan sweaters in muted colors but with piping along the edges-everything had an edge. There was not one boring piece of clothing or accessory in the house.
I fought among the other women like animals in a jungle, running from this shirt to those pants-whatever caught my eye. And when I looked at the price tags, I felt an enormous rush of happiness: the perfect jean shorts with one inch cuffs for $55 and a cool navy silk zipper jacket with draping on either side for $70, I was in shock-maybe let’s say euphoria. My anxiety escalated once I spotted what I wanted. Could I grab the right size before the other desperate customers stole them from under me? Everyone was frantically running around the store with piles of clothing in each arm and jewelry tightly cupped in their hands-I admit, I was one of them.
Just when my arms began to ache from holding so many items, I hit the dressing room. This is where my euphoria took a hit. Talk about waiting lines, I waited for 45 minutes just to get into a dressing room; although, I have to admit the rooms were quite spacious and had a beautiful purple curtain and plenty of hooks for armfuls of clothing, perfect for keeping yourself organized. While I was waiting in line, I asked the women if the store is always this busy and they said “Definitely. Any day, any time of day, it’s always chaos.” I then, regretfully asked, what is the difference between Topshop and H&M? They gave me a look of disgust and a stare that said, “How dare you compare us to H&M.” “They are totally different, totally totally different,” my salesperson said. “Although this store is pricier, it is also edgier and there are no boring H&M pieces lying around. It’s hipper and we do more collaborations with designers like what we have now, (Kate Moss, Jonathan Saunders, Unique, Richard Nicoll, Mario Schwab, Preen and Boutique shoes) than H&M, that will have one designer every couple of months. Also, you are a lot less likely to see something you buy here on someone else than if you buy something at H&M.” I have to admit, I agree. Even the atmosphere was different. The store was booming with fun music, people everywhere smiling with wide eyes and grins from ear to ear, I felt like I was in Whoville on Christmas morning, but with the presents.
After trying on my clothes and leaving with a leather coat, a navy blazer and a pair of shorts (guess I threw my freeze on shopping out the window) I came to the third floor and that was where the action was. Talk about the jungle; panthers grabbing the patent platform heel before another woman can snatch it out her hand, five display cases of shoes as unique and desirable as any department store shoe department. The shoes were all over the place, as soon as someone put them down another woman scooped them up. Every woman for herself! This was war! I sneaked my way, like a prowling cat, through the shoes thrown over the floor and on display and had found my dreams could all come true-a pair of platform suede strappy pumps for $125, a pair of black patent 70’s high shoes as high as stilts, $150, the smart pair of spectators in white just lying there for me to grab them, calling my name. I couldn’t believe that I could buy three pairs of shoes that looked just as beautiful as a pair of $700-$1400 sandals for under $400. I could buy an inch of the heel of a designer shoe for that price. It struck me that I could now afford smart, sexy, incredibly chic and stylish shoes without breaking the bank-even three times without breaking the bank.
One of the most interesting things that I noticed was that the customer service was impeccable. I had the shoe salesman running up and down the four floors to look for shoes that weren’t even in the computer just to double check they weren’t hiding there, I had a woman help me find another size in shorts while I was in the dressing room greeting me with a smile, and an “of course I can.” I also learned that on the third floor there were Topshop “Style Advisors.” Topshop even has its own personal shoppers-for free. I had died and gone to heaven.
It was definitely worth the wait, the two waits actually. I somehow managed to stay in the store for four hours while originally I had planned only to browse through. I left with four bags-I guess my recessionista went on vacation for the day but still managed to take home amazing clothes and three pairs of shoes for under $800. Not bad, not bad at all.
One Response
Shanti on 10-04-2009 at 6:30 pm
if you want slave labor…..