Thursday, 6 June 2013

The Perils of Visiting Hollister

Firstly, may I enquire as to why this establishment has chosen to select staff members so wondrously attractive that they appear to be the missing link between the human race and some divine creature from the depths of Greek mythology, yet shroud them in perpetual darkness? Folding, and refolding those little piles of expensive t-shirts; merely uttering an American sounding ‘Hey guys!’ if they catch you on entry, or a ‘Thanks guys!’ if they catch you on the rear exit (oh my), as you stagger back into the blinding light of civilisation, your eyes and nostrils aflame with the special Hollister smell which signifies their Godly superiority. One time I went in there with my brother, and it made his asthma play up so we had to leave. I expect that the scent has been designed that way, as a method of selection pressure so as to expel nerds and conserve the natural trendsetting population within. I wonder if the attractive staff are a race of vampires, or perhaps will someday evolve into a race of mole people to suit their habitat?  To be fair, you probably could train up moles to fold clothes just as well. They would also be cheaper and less intimidating. I also wonder whether the trendy palm trees which I always bugger over in there are real, since surely the lack of light would kill them- and what the bloody hell is with the fake windows with waves outside, to create the illusion that we are adjacent to a blissful Californian Summers day at the beach? If we were really next to that, then why the fuck would I stand in a dark smelly room (with clothes where the colour is always different to what you thought it was by the time you look outside in the light) looking at it out of a window?

Thus the overall effect is that of darkness, blaring sound, surrounding water, disorientation, overpowering smells, and immense fear (from the staff that look as perfect as the embarrassingly semi-naked people on the bags-which I refuse to use since it’s weird to practically carry your gym kit around inside a naked person). It sounds like a bloody premise for a horror film about a cave diving accident, and quite frankly I could get that experience as a miner.

Or sewage worker even.

And at least that way I could wear what I liked without being judged, and there would still be less shit to put up with.