Abercrombie & Fitch

Oh A&F.

I've heard of this brand for awhile. Not as long as most people (I don't think I really caught on to the fact that there was a world called fashion until much later than a lot of people), potentially around the time I went to Queen's University. You see, the stereotype of Queen's is kinda true. Oh, and I think a former Canadian figure skater used to model for the company. Of course there's got to be a skating link somewhere.

Anyway, I visited a friend in the States post Queen's and had my first experience with an Abercrombie store. I hadn't formed a complete hatred (no wait, it's not really hatred, just repulsion) towards the brand yet. Not at all. Quite the contrary. I bought three items at the store just to be part of the fad. I was sound enough to think that their prices were still way too high and therefore did buy my items in the kids section (thank goodness for XXL!). Anyway, the point is, I jumped on the bandwagon. I was intrigued with the brand.

And then, I guess in the past two years, somehow I developed a repulsion (as prior mentioned) towards this label. I haven't given up hope on my three tops that I bought from there (they're still good tops...don't want to waste good clothing items - and with my limited bush coloured clothing, the brown tee came in particularly handy in Kenya), but I just couldn't see myself adding anything more to the collection. When I'd heard that a store was to be opening in Toronto, and wanted to gag. I forget if I wrote about it, but even going into the new Hollister store (which I'd never heard of) last summer made me feel sick. Since Queen's I've also boycotted American Eagle (I still remember counting how many times I saw that stupid ladies rugby shirt a day) and have had a slight disdain for the Gap.

Anyway, flash forward to early July 2007 in London, England. I think I'm safe from silly American fashion, until I see a whole bunch of people walking around with A&F carrier bags. I ask around and yes, indeed a store has opened up in the last couple of months and it's all the rage. My company desperately wants to go as he's, well, Swiss and thinks that anything American is cool. Poor, poor boy. Reluctantly, I help him find the store, I little intrigued to see how the British are responding to this phenomenon and wondering how marked up the prices are. The store is located at a perfect location. Not on one of the main shopping streets, but just off of them. At the end of Seville Row, near Oxford and Bond...you know...the good stuff. It's in a huge building, apparently a former office space (which must have been a pretty amazing office to work in - think the bank from Mary Poppins, but two floors and much more welcoming). I walk up the stairs to the building and am greeted by your typical A&F male model standing in front of a wall covered with the latest ad. Yes, a typical A&F male model is wearing fashionably low slung jeans...and that's about it. Well toned abs? Check. Yummy? Check. I can't help but laugh at this new store opening gimmick as I walk into the store. [Flash to today, and I realize it's an "all the time" gimmick. The Eaton's Centre store has been open for almost a year now and I was also greeted - only visually, male models don't seem to talk - with a shirtless teen. And it was today that it truly hit how wrong this is, as in London, everyone I saw was tween and up, whereas today I saw a child, around 5 years of age follow mum into the store looking at model boy in utter confusion.]

The store is beautiful. Well, it was after my eyes adjusted to the darkness. It's friggin annoying, the mood lighting. I'd go blind working in there. Dark wood everywhere and it's set up so that you have to walk around the entire store and look at all of their merchandise (smart, smart, smart!) before you can get to a till. There's a shortcut for men, but only apparent after doing the full loop (at least it'll save time on future visits). Merchandise is carefully set out on tables, racks, walls, shelves and even in glass covered cabinets. Smart, for the sales staff who probably don't want to deal with refolding everything every time a customer tries to find their size. Sample items are put on display and customers then have to approach a sales person to get the right colour and size for them. All the colours of the rainbow are available and laid out like a seamless palette for you to marvel at and pick your favorite. Prices are outrageous.

Along with the darkness and too loud club hits blaring from the sound system, something bothered me. All the salespeople were young and beautiful. It bothered me because it just seemed so sneaky. I get that the company is trying to sell an image. It's trying to sell a lifestyle. And here, they've hired people to represent that look. It's perfect. As a customer, you come in and see the people that work there and think, "I want to look just like them". I give credit to the people way up there in the company who know to do this, but am disappointed that they don't hire a variety of faces and shapes. Variety should be encouraged. That being said, it was still fun for me to look around. (I did notice that some of the Zara stores in Europe tend to place nice looking men to work in their women's section for a similar effect.) I was entertained enough as I waited for my companion to find his token purchase. Today, I was a little disappointed to see that I didn't have as much eye candy in the Toronto store and therefore jumped to the conclusion that Brits are better looking, until I realised that maybe Torontonians have their heads on their shoulders a little bit more and have decided to hire a variety of faces and shapes. [And yes, the male model greeter in T.O. wasn't as yummy as his London counterpart either.]

Okay, the quality of the clothing was really nice, I give it that, but I still couldn't wait to get out of that store and continue to mentally diss the brand as much as possible. And just like icing on the cake of ridiculousness, as we walked out of the store, my companion basking in his >30GBP t-shirt purchase ("It was the cheapest one I could find!"), I see a leggy blond-haired, blue eyed sales princess standing beside the male model with a Polaroid camera, asking drooling shoppers if they want to take a picture with the handsome hunk.

Classic.