Shop the Sale

With the shops,came the seasons,with the seasons,came the sales. And July is the coolest month as it marks the end of the Indian summer (although the beginning of the European and American sweat-fest). Hence the annual,global July sale.

My first experience with a July sale was just eight years ago in Italy. It was hard for my naïve eyes to see that every single shop — high-end,high-street and hippy—had a sticker on it that read “Saldi” or “Sale”. It was as if the entire city was celebrating a discount,a huge sense of festivity abounded and the tourists couldn’t have enough of it. Everything you touched,except one wall of the latest collection,was at half-price. I had to buy another suitcase to carry my things back home.

The London sales are an event by themselves too,and they don’t wait for July or January. Their Boxing Day sales are legendary; customers line up outside the big department stores before sunrise to have the first pick. American department stores also have huge Thanksgiving sale but it’s their for-the-heck-of-it sales that are great fun. I remember Banana Republic having only white clothes on sale,everything else was full price.

The July sale is new to India,not more than a handful of years old. A few summers ago,few stores went on sale this time of the year — it was almost only the weeks before Diwali — and fewer were organised. The markdowns were random and skinny,the merchandise almost never edited and the staff generally ignorant of anything beyond their elbow’s reach. Stores never advertised half-page spreads like they do today,the luxury labels just sent out texts to the clients on their database. The arcades appeared as they did on any ordinary day.

This last week,almost every store in the malls are offering their end-of-seasons from anywhere between 50 to 70 per cent. I trawled through Zara at Palladium and looked at some neat cable-knits for just over a thousand bucks. Burberry was chock-full with mothers trying out baby goodies on their tots. Across the floor,Etro’s pretty printed shirts had men behaving like women,almost pirouetting before the mirrors.

I arrived at the Ensemble sale three days after it began — a curse in fashion lingo. But some silly shopper had overlooked a beautiful white Pratap shirt that originally cost Rs 12,000,and was now for Rs 2,000-odd. God lives.

I used to feign great disdain for sales. I would save for new collections,shop at my own space and never had to bother with queues. But ask the high-street-addict,outfit-repeater Catherine Middleton,frugality is the new black.

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