New York: the shopping

Spotting that Macy’s was only a block away, I quickly began planning to spend my entire life’s savings but, once again, fate had different plans for me. Being disappointed with the first three floors, I was still full of hope when I reached the fourth floor. Ah, such foolishness. The fourth floor in Macy’s was an assault on the eyes. It was a hive of psychedelic colours. It was an explosion in a neon paint factory.

It was avoided.

A zillion floors, and not one decent item of clothing in the entire place. I left two hours later, having purchased only a pair of Nike tracksuit bottoms for my mother to wear to the gym. That, my friends, is depressing.

And it got worse. Trawling through all the high-end designer stores, I wandered into the Fendi shop between 5th and Madison with hopes of purchasing one of their covetable Spy bags, my old one having ripped (that’s what I get for buying knock-offs). No sooner had I walked in the door than the male shop assistant began following me around the place. And not even in a subtle way (not that Americans are known for their subtlety). He followed me up the stairs and down the stairs, he stopped when I stopped, he walked when I walked. I eventually flounced out in a huff. Good one, asshole, you’ve just lost out on commission.

Being just a giant ball of rage at this stage, I stormed the streets, vowing never to come back. I hated the crowds, the traffic, the noise, the shop assistants who demanded to know what you were looking for if you so much as glanced in their windows...

And then it appeared from the gloom. Bloomingdales!

I shopped ‘til my arms were lined with bags and almost wrenched from their sockets. I shopped ‘til I felt dizzy with exhaustion. I shopped ‘til I almost passed out from the hunger. Then I shopped some more. (Huge thanks to Pamela who, though heavily pregnant, still helped me out with everything I needed.) Then I ran into some customer service guy whose family was from Ireland and we had a right old natter about our recent Grand Slam victory.

I was appeased.

Until Part III...