Earlier this week, I spent a frustrating couple of hours in the men’s changing room at Hollister.
There were fumbles, anguished cries and yelling. Yup, I was clothes shopping with The Teenager.
I had laid careful plans and bundled him into the car straight from school, turned on the central locking and hightailed it to town before he could escape.
He’s at that fussy stage (when isn’t he?) – his clothes have to fit just so, the colour has to be just right. Although how he could see anything in Hollister is beyond me. Maybe it’s my age, but it’s pretty darned gloomy in there. And there’s far too many über-handsome staff with chiseled jaws and their underwear on show. Tsk. After rummaging round in the dark and messing up all the lovely neat displays, The Teenager pulled out a couple of shirts to try on.
An hour later (and after profuse apologies to Mr Handsome for all the noise), he emerged from his cubicle and posed before the mirror, turning this way and that, arms flapping.
‘Oh, it’s a lovely colour! Suits your eyes. Let’s buy it.’ (looks at watch)
‘Nah, it’s, like, dunno.’
‘What about the other one? Or that one? Or the one you flung across the room?’
‘S’not dench, innit?’ (Dench? Huh?)
We left empty-handed and repeated the same scenario in the next store. And the next. Normally on trips like this, we have a little family tradition of rounding off the whole drama by taking it in turns to choose a restaurant for dinner. It was my turn. More eye-rolling and dramatic sighs when I told him I wanted to try a nice, eclectic place he hadn’t been to before.
‘Wanna go to Nando’s. Wanna go to Nando’s. Wanna go…..’
‘Oi, it’s my choice. You’ll like it. ‘
‘My friend said it was a girly place. Wanna go to…’
‘How can a restaurant be girly? It’s dench!’
‘Mum, that’s just tragic. Please don’t.’
We sat ourselves down in my choice of place, The Teenager grudgingly admitting it wasn’t that bad and he admired his new rugby socks (our only purchase), before tweeting his friends a picture of them. Then he facebooked a picture of his burger.
We had a lovely meal. Me, The Teenager and his phone. Dench…
I once went on facebook and saw someone I have never met criticizing the fingerprints on the mirror in my bedroom!!!
My teenage son had taken a picture of himself in front of it and posted it!
I have seen bits of various rooms on there in the background behind food/shoes/clothes/posters/xbox games….
I think they should rename Facebook Ego Central!
Definitely! Can’t get him off Facebook, lol. He just doesn’t listen to me any more! Typical teenager 🙁
X
Who gave you permission to write about me and my son? hehehe That’s me and my teenage son all over, however I now refuse to go clothes shopping with him it’s too much like hard work xx
Teenager’s eh?? Absolute nightmare, bless him. That’s definitely the last time, lol.
Had to lie down after all that!
X
‘Dench’. I’ll try that out on my daughter later on. Lol. She was taking selfies a couple of weeks ago on my iPad. ( they were nice, she’d just copied some new hairstyle from you tube – that’s why I had shit poodle perm teenage hair, no You tube), so I posted one on my timeline on her birthday (dawn of a new teenager and all that). She was horrified until I reassured her that I hadn’t tagged her, so none of her friends would see it. They want to be seen, they don’t want to be seen. Aargh
I’m with you on that one! Under pain of death I am in no way allowed to take a photo of him yet he sits in front of me and posts endless selfies!
X
Ha! Thanks for the laugh, SIF! Must use “dench” in a conversation at once. I’ve been forced to take some “vacation” in light of the Gov’t shutdown here. Totes dench. Meh. See how much I’ve learned from reading your fantastic blog?? If you ever stop, think how my vocabulary will suffer…
Aw, thank you! Will try to extract some more urban speak from him and let you know 🙂
Hope you’re making the most of the enforced break. Heard that even the statue of liberty is closed.
Put your feet up!
X
Well lol, what is with the dark in Hollisters? What ever age we are surely we want see what colours we are purchasing. Call me OLD FASHIONED. It’s hard work with the younger ones.
Nar, no, you have got to be joking. So I just keep silent and smile. Lol !!!!!!!!!!!!
You and me both!
I mean Hollisters is beautifully designed but my oh my, far too dark for my old eyes. Mind you, I still fondly remember shopping in Chelsea Girl. I’m *that* old, lol.
X
Me to
Glad I’m not the only one!