Christmas Is Retail Therapy Time

In case you haven't been to the West-End in a few weeks, be warned: Christmas mayhem is in full throttle. Frenzied shoppers ready to boulder you over in order to purchase the next item on their family's Christmas list. Shopping for a suit on a Monday afternoon quickly turned into a need for post-retail therapy.

Normally the disorder of Christmas is partial to a build-up, starting late October with department stores opening over-lit rooms dedicated to yuletide festivities when you've barely adjusted to the rhythms of autumn. This year, however, it seemed to happen over night. Yesterday I spotted a lady being thrust out of her seat on the tube by another lady carrying an oversized faux white-needled Christmas tree which took up an entire row of seats. Imagine the pandemonium the week prior to the 25th? It's enough to make one want to head to Mexico for cheap sunshine and tequila toasts on New Year's Eve.

London transport not particularly lending itself to passengers carrying suitcase- sizes of Christmas lights and jingle bells, shopping in the west-end has become an absolute nightmare. With Oxford Street resembling more the Regent's Park zoo than a bustling high street, shopping for a suit, even on a Monday afternoon, was a painstaking experience.

Admittedly, I like to get dressed up for the holidays just as much as the next person. After all, it's the season of glitzy parties, endless champagne and lots of snogs, and to make it all the more memorable, one needs to look and feel good. While no Londoner in his right mind shops on a weekend, Monday seems a pretty good alternative. Not so, as I discovered. From being run over by mobs of shoppers in fierce mode to cueing for a changing room in department stores, this is shopping at its worst.

To me, retail therapy no longer implies making a purchase to compensate for bad feelings. It's the therapy needed to compensate for the bad feelings one gets from shopping.