Jumping on the Primark Bandwagon

As an original worshipper at the temple of Primark, I am unsurprised by its recent rise in status within the fashion world.

During my final two uni years, I ought to have charged the chain revenue, as I spent most of my time parading round Southampton dressed head to toe in their clothes, comprising a sort of walking advertisement.

Four years into my Primark experience, I now own (I kid you not) nearly two draws of their underwear, at least ten jumpers, four pairs of shoes and countless pairs of £10 jeans (£10!!!).

At first, I reluctantly admit, I was dubious about venturing into the then-tatty looking shop, preferring instead to continue squandering my meagre student loan on extortionate clothing from better-respected retailers.

However, one particularly depressing morning after I had ripped open to my dismay a bank statement that reported I was eighteen pounds from my overdraft limit, my housemate did the sensible thing and dragged me into Primark by my scarf-ends.

Once I stopped my energetic protesting (which unfortunately involved wailing and a good amount of kicking) I unscrewed my eyes and looked begrudgingly around me.

And I must admit I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw.

There was no denying that the place was tatty. Shop assistants were scurrying around red-faced scooping piles of clothing off the floor whilst customers deposited more in the newly cleared spaces as they frantically scrambled to reach the few remaining items in their size. It was unclear which clothes were originally displayed on which rail and the shop had the overall feel of a badly-organised jumble sale.

After a few minutes, however, I began to spot some familiarly fashionable items in the growing piles on the floor around me. A polka dot boob tube, some skinny jeans and a wrap-around cardigan all came alternately into view.

That was enough for me.
"Right, hold this!" I instructed my friend, thrusting my bag and gloves at her.
I then turned towards the furore and dived in, emerging triumphantly minutes later with the boob tube and jeans (the cardigan had been lost to a red-head with vicious elbows).

And that was that. I can't buy anything now unless I've scoured Primark for it first. For £20 there I can pick up a pair of trousers, two tops and an evening bag. And although the quality may mean Primark clothes don't last me years, the fashions change so quickly that I never want things for more than a few months anyway.

Anyway I must dash, I asked a girl earlier where she got her leopard-print jumper and guess what she said....?