Tuesday, 1 October 2013

The Hollister Hoody.

I'm alive and well - although not quite as tanned as I'd like to be.
I'm sure you've all been shiftily hanging around my blog wondering what the story is - well, here it is...
With the sun on my face and a drink in my hand, I didn't even mind that I had spent the wee hours of that morning sitting on my suitcase, trying to trap the many outfits I deemed necessary for a one week holiday (every week is fashion week in Bulgaria - didn't you know?) from maxi dresses to leather skirts and everything in between.
What I did mind, was the fact that 90% of what I packed was never even worn. I was fully prepared for a few items to sit idle in the bottom of the suitcase - although I would never have admitted that to my 'three tshirts and a pair of clean pants will do me' travel companion.
What I did mind, was the icy cold wind that set in after the sun snuck off every night, making each and every one of my carefully planned evening outfits laughable. I made it halfway through dinner on the first night before deciding I wasn't hardcore enough to battle the cold in the name of fashion, and took myself to one of the many stalls on the strip to purchase another layer.

As you can probably imagine - my choice was limited. After a lap around the makeshift stall, I chose a maroon Hollister Hoody. The real deal, of course, setting me back a cool 25 leva (about twelve quid). As I wrapped myself up in all its counterfeit beauty, I didn't even care if it was going to disintegrate in the wash... right now, it was my best friend. 

The friendship quickly blossomed - we were practically inseperable. Not a single cloud could dampen my spirits when Hollister Hoody was around - she had my back. Literally. 
Little did I know our whirlwind friendship was doomed from the start. The next night I didn't think twice about wearing it, determined not to have my heart broken by the icy winds of the night again. But nothing could prepare me for what I was about to witness...

Sunny Beach was having a Hollister Hoody party - and everyone was invited. Not only was I walking past people my own age wearing the exact same hoody in an array of colours, I was also avoiding eye contact with the many freezing middle aged women in the same get up. It's like we were all a part of some huge cosy pub crawl. I was just thanking my lucky stars I hadn't gone all out and bought the matching joggers - I would have insisted Ewan left me there for the rest of my days.

Here is the little scoundrel on a particularly cloudy day (please ignore my lack of effort in the rest of my appearance - I was on holiday for gahd's sake). Oh, and a big ass ice cream. 


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