After spending two weeks in London dealing with requisite NYU orientations, awful (albeit free) cafeteria food, and awkward social events, my friend Kate and I made our way to the attraction of all London attractions. No, I'm not talking about Big Ben or Westminster Abbey. I'm talking shopping. At Harrod's. Here's future journalist extraordinaire Kate's view on the world's best department store:
Harrod’s: the iconic home of London’s high fashion shops, dazzlingly beautiful and mind-bogglingly expensive jewelry, and ₤1.50 cheese and onion baguettes the size of my head (and if anything can eat my entire head in the minute amount of time that it took me to choke down that baguette, then God help me). Seeing Harrod’s in countless fashion mags and cheesy tourist photos couldn’t have possibly prepared me for the opulence we saw. While trying to navigate the arrows pointing us towards contemporary wear, we wandered through the couture collections. Just so you know, when oogling couture Dior and YSL in Harrod’s it’s impossible to keep your jaw from hanging open in a ridiculously cartoonish fashion, so don’t even try to restrain yourself – the designers might even take it as a compliment.
There’s just something about Harrod’s (in a completely non-Farrelly brothers kind of way), that makes you feel like Miss High Society London. It doesn’t matter if you can afford to buy anything, and since I can barely manage my cheese and onion baguette, I clearly cannot. Just being around so many amazing coats and shoes and bags and basically everything imaginable gives you a few Cinderella hours where you can be that girl who tosses her credit card around with incredible ease – looking in the mirror with a gorgeous Marc Jacobs coat on, I am SO that girl. And let’s face it; where else is a girl who can only afford Harrod’s baguettes going to be able to freely try on Chanel without getting tasered?
By Kate Thuma