The Under-rated Sport of Shopping
Shopping will never be recognised, and nor should it be, as an art form but I do believe it should take its place as a minor sport ranked, perhaps, somewhere between curling and synchronised swimming. It’s hardwired into female and, occasionally, male genes so why fight it?
Most females I know have a tendency to apologise for a planned afternoon or even a day practising this noble art form - there I go again - whereas in fact we should be anticipating and expecting the warm admiration that is accorded to a successful marathon runner or premiership footballer.
At its highest level practised perhaps by a mother under severe time constraints, one can achieve legs honed to perfection by a walking speed matched only by an Olympic race competitor. Our shoppers’ arms are also slender and firm from seizing, pulling and grabbing items just out of reach, objects that are too low down or too high up, stretching oneself to the limit of endurance. All-in-all, a personal trainer would struggle to achieve the level of fitness and consume the calories needed for a day spent shopping but rarely does this feature in any articles in which sports or activities are compared in terms of benefits to the body or mind.
A yoga expert might just match the contortions necessary to try on five outfits in the confines of a little or shared changing room, but would unquestionably fail when it came down to entertaining a tiny child at the same time in small cubic footage. Physical ability is tested but so is mental agility.
I’ve recently spent a few weeks in the States where, hidden among the areas of outstanding beauty, were many splendid shopping opportunities but unfortunately one faces many obstacles in the guise of over-eager shop girls.
In a large store in Los Angeles with no mirrors in the changing room (a cunning ruse), I was forced to expose myself to all in an outfit of utter repugnance that could only appeal to the optically challenged. Instantaneously I was surrounded by a baying mob of assistants with Minnie Mouse vocal chords exclaiming ‘Gee, you look awesome.’ My instinct was to say ‘For God’s sake, talk in your normal voices and tell the truth’, but of course didn’t. Instead I walked the walk of shame out of the store empty handed.
As a child in church I was warned about false gods but I do feel that false shopping assistants might easily have been added to the list.
Back in England it does seem that our shopping assistants are emulating those in the US in all but accent. Whereas the US assistants appear to be making a fair stab at pretending to be your friend (and I would give them nine out of ten for effort even though I’m not partial to it), the approach in England, OK then, Bicester Village, is different. On a day when a swift scout along the shopping village is required there is now no sneaking quietly into a shop for a quick, solitary glance around, absolutely not.
You are greeted in every shop with ‘Hi, how are you today? What are you doing? Can I help you? What are you looking for?’ etc; The words are said but we both know that they really don’t mean it and in fact hate you, are bored by you and would rather be talking to their friends as in the old days before the US shopping consultants had told them to say stuff.
I’m a grown up, if I want something I can ask, I really don’t want to find a new friend in each shop, it’s too tiring. Under the sport of shopping rules and as a keen exponent, my attitude clearly needs working on and will only be rectified by a lot more practice.
We’ll only know that the new sport of shopping has become recognised and accepted when a lone shopper carrying a shopping bag emblazoned with a Union Jack in one hand and the Olympic torch in the other, will lead the Olympic shopping team to glory in London 2012.