Middle Aged in Hollister
Filed under:
School Age Kids
I like to consider myself a modern mum! I may be on the wrong side of 40, but I wear skinny jeans, I own wedge trainers (ooh, very cutting edge!), I’m adept at the GHD and there’s no sign of Ponds Cold Cream in my bathroom cabinet. ‘Middle age, my ass!’ is pretty much my mantra! All was going well … until my 12 year old daughter introduced me to Hollister.
Dear Divine Mother of God! Within minutes of entering, I had morphed into my own mother. “Are they not frozen?” I was heard to mutter as I stared in disbelief at the young assistants decked out in cut-off shorts and cropped tops. It was 1 degree outside. My nose was assaulted by the overwhelming smell of diluted Fruit Pastilles (err, that would be the signature Hollister scent apparently!) As for the lighting? Hello? Anyone? Can anyone explain the lack of light? I squinted in vain and shuffled towards a dim light bulb in the hope of identifying the numbers on the price tag. At which point I almost passed out in shock. €60 for a hoodie? €55 for a skirt, that was only just on the right side of decency. I would be loathe to pay those prices for my own clothes, let alone a 12 year old who will have grown out of them in a few months.
Yet, the success of this store is unparalleled. Grown women were seen queuing for up to an hour in the pre-Christmas rush in order to procure the must-have Hollister item for their tween. (Some may have been carrying torches … or is it an urban myth that torches have been found amongst the pile of jeans when staff tidy up in the evenings?) I salute their Marketing department, because frankly, they must be doing something right. But seriously, would a little investment in some extra wattage be such a bad thing? Or maybe that’s the point? After all, did our Mums understand the urgency of our need for Adidas trainers, Pepe jeans and neon legwarmers back in the day? Next time I’m bringing a miners head-lamp!
Dear Divine Mother of God! Within minutes of entering, I had morphed into my own mother. “Are they not frozen?” I was heard to mutter as I stared in disbelief at the young assistants decked out in cut-off shorts and cropped tops. It was 1 degree outside. My nose was assaulted by the overwhelming smell of diluted Fruit Pastilles (err, that would be the signature Hollister scent apparently!) As for the lighting? Hello? Anyone? Can anyone explain the lack of light? I squinted in vain and shuffled towards a dim light bulb in the hope of identifying the numbers on the price tag. At which point I almost passed out in shock. €60 for a hoodie? €55 for a skirt, that was only just on the right side of decency. I would be loathe to pay those prices for my own clothes, let alone a 12 year old who will have grown out of them in a few months.
Yet, the success of this store is unparalleled. Grown women were seen queuing for up to an hour in the pre-Christmas rush in order to procure the must-have Hollister item for their tween. (Some may have been carrying torches … or is it an urban myth that torches have been found amongst the pile of jeans when staff tidy up in the evenings?) I salute their Marketing department, because frankly, they must be doing something right. But seriously, would a little investment in some extra wattage be such a bad thing? Or maybe that’s the point? After all, did our Mums understand the urgency of our need for Adidas trainers, Pepe jeans and neon legwarmers back in the day? Next time I’m bringing a miners head-lamp!
