I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Topshop is so much more than just a high street store. It is an institution, an empire. It brings the catwalk to us commoners, at a fraction of the cost. We fashion-worshipping consumers can sail through every season embracing stripes, polka dots, ruffles and empire-line dresses, getting good returns on our £30 investment, and discarding them when the wind changes.
The voluminous Oxford Street store is so amazing that I would actually prefer to live there than in my own flat. And with its facilities, I am sure I could: apart from the fab Central London location, all the clothes I could ever want, style advisers on tap (more of which later), fabulously kitsch objets on the top floor (although I have to say: I think the shoes are cheap and nasty, as are the accessories, which I would never wear, although again: great catwalk copies), a nail bar, café and customer toilets (a must if, like me, you are of a weak-bladdered disposition), plus people who are employed just to run down to the store room to check if they have your size and sofas on which to abandon the bored boyfriend while you are trying on clothes.
And as if this isn’t enough to make you run down to your local Topshop to initiate a catfight with a pre-pubescent binty twiglet (aren’t these girls ever at school?) over the latest pair of city shorts, wait ‘til you hear about some of their other services.
Back in February, EBS No 1 persuaded me to sign up to host a Topshop To Go party. “What’s a Topshop To Go Party?” I hear you trill. It’s a fantastically exciting concept, where 2 Topshop style advisers come to your home, bringing clothes, bags, shoes and accessories for you and up to 5 friends, for no fee and with no obligation to buy anything. Topshop – in the comfort of your own home.
So my Topshop To Go Party took place last weekend. Male Model, salivating at the prospect of spectating 6 women running around in their underwear, was thrown out of the flat and sent on a mission to hunt down a new air conditioning unit (he returned with a new golf club instead, leaving me in unbearable sweaty discomfort, while he proceeded to sneakily eat an entire box of chocolates that had been given to me by one of my guests. I found the squalid evidence under his bed, along with other unmentionable and traumatic sights).
The party was fantastic, although it would have been even better had the style advisers NOT turned up 1 ½ hours late and forgotten to bring clothes rails, so that we had to hang all the clothes up around the room. However, after some conciliatory negotiations, they did bring us champagne, goody bags, and agreed to extend the hostess’s 20% discount to all the guests. I ordered a top in a different size, and it was expressed to my office the next day.
Topshop does offer a variety of other services. Express delivery is one of them, but they will also custom-make a dress for you (£200, and there’s a 5-month waiting list). Honestly, I would even be inclined to entrust them with the arduous, diva-pleasing task of designing me a wedding dress.
But perhaps the most heart-warming ending to this little advertorial (they should just pay me to do their PR) is the way in which my Topshop parties (yes, more are on the way) have brought me closer together to people. As a self-confessed workaholic gym-addict who also studies in the evenings and is constantly travelling, I am rarely at home, and wouldn’t recognise my neighbours unless they had their key in the lock (or in the case of the Screaming Orgasm woman upstairs, there may be other methods of identification). So when I recently overslept and ended up going to work at a normal time when the sun had actually risen, I was delighted to meet my lovely new next-door neighbour, S. I decided to invite her, and two other neighbours she is friendly with, R and B, to the Topshop party.
The voluminous Oxford Street store is so amazing that I would actually prefer to live there than in my own flat. And with its facilities, I am sure I could: apart from the fab Central London location, all the clothes I could ever want, style advisers on tap (more of which later), fabulously kitsch objets on the top floor (although I have to say: I think the shoes are cheap and nasty, as are the accessories, which I would never wear, although again: great catwalk copies), a nail bar, café and customer toilets (a must if, like me, you are of a weak-bladdered disposition), plus people who are employed just to run down to the store room to check if they have your size and sofas on which to abandon the bored boyfriend while you are trying on clothes.
And as if this isn’t enough to make you run down to your local Topshop to initiate a catfight with a pre-pubescent binty twiglet (aren’t these girls ever at school?) over the latest pair of city shorts, wait ‘til you hear about some of their other services.
Back in February, EBS No 1 persuaded me to sign up to host a Topshop To Go party. “What’s a Topshop To Go Party?” I hear you trill. It’s a fantastically exciting concept, where 2 Topshop style advisers come to your home, bringing clothes, bags, shoes and accessories for you and up to 5 friends, for no fee and with no obligation to buy anything. Topshop – in the comfort of your own home.
So my Topshop To Go Party took place last weekend. Male Model, salivating at the prospect of spectating 6 women running around in their underwear, was thrown out of the flat and sent on a mission to hunt down a new air conditioning unit (he returned with a new golf club instead, leaving me in unbearable sweaty discomfort, while he proceeded to sneakily eat an entire box of chocolates that had been given to me by one of my guests. I found the squalid evidence under his bed, along with other unmentionable and traumatic sights).
The party was fantastic, although it would have been even better had the style advisers NOT turned up 1 ½ hours late and forgotten to bring clothes rails, so that we had to hang all the clothes up around the room. However, after some conciliatory negotiations, they did bring us champagne, goody bags, and agreed to extend the hostess’s 20% discount to all the guests. I ordered a top in a different size, and it was expressed to my office the next day.
Topshop does offer a variety of other services. Express delivery is one of them, but they will also custom-make a dress for you (£200, and there’s a 5-month waiting list). Honestly, I would even be inclined to entrust them with the arduous, diva-pleasing task of designing me a wedding dress.
But perhaps the most heart-warming ending to this little advertorial (they should just pay me to do their PR) is the way in which my Topshop parties (yes, more are on the way) have brought me closer together to people. As a self-confessed workaholic gym-addict who also studies in the evenings and is constantly travelling, I am rarely at home, and wouldn’t recognise my neighbours unless they had their key in the lock (or in the case of the Screaming Orgasm woman upstairs, there may be other methods of identification). So when I recently overslept and ended up going to work at a normal time when the sun had actually risen, I was delighted to meet my lovely new next-door neighbour, S. I decided to invite her, and two other neighbours she is friendly with, R and B, to the Topshop party.
Such a good decision, that made me realise that I am so busy running around everywhere trying to find new experiences, that I have forgotten that there are simple pleasures available to me much closer to home, such as late night drinks with the girls in my block and gossiping sessions about Orgasm Woman’s latest conquest.
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