Harrods doesnt have it all

Let me start by telling you where NOT to go in London on the first weekday after New Year’s – Harrods, the ultra-chic, ultra-expensive, ultra-sophisticated departmental store. Why? Because that, apparently, is the first day of their “greatest sale” every January, as advertised on practically every London bus. My husband knew why not to go, but he knew equally well that we (him included) WOULD be going to Harrods all the same. It seemed to be the touristy way to start the day and a half that we had before my sis and I flew to Chennai. Kitsch and corny, I know, but it HAD to be done.

Anyway, when we got on the Underground train, it was jam-packed. At the station for Harrods, there was an exit devoted entirely to people going there. The resulting crowd, reminiscent of Singapore’s malls at lunchtime, was even MORE of a mob because every train that stopped there (every 2-3 minutes) disgorged hundreds of passengers, all headed for Harrods. In fact, we were lucky to get into Harrods when we did – by the time we came out, an hour or so later, there were long queues of people at EVERY entrance to the store, waiting to get in! Some of them had Harrods bags, which led me to conclude that they actually WANTED to go back inside into the madness. I guess it takes all kinds…

Harrods the store itself is pretty big – you can apparently get anything from a toothpick to a Hummer, as long as you have the money to pay for it. But that day, honestly, it didn’t look like anything more than the village rummage or jumble sale, although on a rather larger scale. There were signs everywhere, people milling around grabbing at shirts and trousers and throwing the wrong sizes back higgledy-piggledy. Garments were piled up on tables, hanging from temporary movable racks, all mixed up, lying on the floor. Shoes were not in their right size racks and many of them were missing partners. I wanted very much to check out the “luxury bathrooms”, but on seeing the constant lines of women waiting to go in, I decided not to. It might not have smelt luxurious by then!

On all the floors, there were plenty of store employees hanging around to provide help – but more likely to make sure that not too many light-fingered shoppers got away with their kleptomaniac instinct. I came to that conclusion because I got directed from floor to floor when I asked for information about where I could buy ponchos. None of the store employees I asked had the exact information, but all of them had plenty of directions to give. None of which, by the way, led to the poncho section.

I had to finally accept that there were NO ponchos to be had for love or money at Harrods. So much for the UK’s most famous snob-value store…
I can say it now, and with perfect honesty: I went to Harrods and they didn’t have what I was looking for! How many celebrities can say THAT?