Shopping for Chloé at M&S (Everything I bought in Europe)
Trustafarian scarves, vintage dirty mags, perfect striped t-shirts
Hi Style Stars,
A few weeks ago I made a bumpy return to American soil. My luggage was overweight on this side of the Atlantic, but after my time back in London and making my way through Italy, it swelled to mythic proportions. On the last leg of my journey I was literally carrying around a bag of rocks.
At the beginning I told myself no shopping. Or very little. My bag was already so heavy and I had other things to spend money on.
But then I went to Portobello Market for my Notting Hill report.
And a week later I needed to find a last minute bathing suit before I left for Italy. So I stopped into M&S on Oxford Street.
I’m an M&S freak. If you don’t know, M&S is a British grocery store that also sells clothes. There is no real American equivalent — it has an emphasis on nicer versions of groceries, but it’s not like Whole Foods or Erewhon and it’s less silly or specific than your average specialty store in the US. It was one of the first places that brought me comfort and happiness after moving to London.
The M&S locations I’ve been to most frequently (Liverpool Street, Hackney Central and Queen’s Park) do not sell clothes. But I’d heard they’re nice… (also the stereotype I think is that mums shop at M&S, idk I’m not British).
Stepping through the automatic doors I’m met by a display of polka-dotted holiday clothes. Ah-ha! We did an episode on the polka dot and her friends on Nymphet Alumni mere days earlier. And here she is, plucked off the summer trends deck in good time.
I send Sam and Alexi a pic and drift to the racks nearby. A lot of things look like new Chloé. One tank top in particular, in a less expensive variant of the peach Chemena Kamali loves.
From there, I turn into a Tasmanian devil, whirling through racks of cashmere and cotton and £9.50 ($12.79) t-shirts that I can very easily see would look great on someone’s grandmother. But I have a feeling they’ll look great on me too, sexy even.
My body is full of good adrenaline. I text Ch’lita.
The £9.50 t-shirt comes from a pile of t-shirts just like it, folded in stacks on a table near check-out. When I spot it from across the room, I sense I’m supposed to be there.
I try on one with black and white stripes. The stripes are close together which I like (more optical, better topographic map of the body) and the sleeves have a little kick at the end, not too capped. I feel more and less like myself when I put it on, which is what good clothes should do for you.
The neck is bateau, not too far from those papery Intimissimi long-sleeves girls have a thing for (Addison wore one when she was bouncing around in Iceland). The shadow of a collarbone is probably why a lot of children were born. This top is not cropped, thank the good God.
Every girl has a shirt. Liana has her tailored Uniqlo tank. Girls who wear The Row have whatever they’re doing with fine cottons over there these days. Did I just find mine?