I’ve been trying really hard to avoid Zara recently. Not out of any bad feeling towards the store or the clothes, but more as a preventative measure against succumbing to buying far too much that you ultimately mentally grow out of within a few weeks.
Seriously, I sometimes think about the amount I’ve spent in Zara over the last five or so years and it would probably amount to not one, but two pairs of Chloe Susaanna boots (my dream ‘one day’ item for as long as I can remember). A terrifying thought and one I try not to dwell on too often.
There’s no denying Zara is great (my most-worn and most-complimented jeans are all from there) but you can end up falling into something of a black hole unique to the Spanish store, whereby you feel like you could never wear that coat without that jumper, that jumper without that skirt and so on…
Anyway, I’ve definitely learnt to reign it in after many, many impulse buys but still have the occasional Zara moment. This Saturday was one such day. I went in with the pretence of Christmas shopping for others, and came out with two items for myself. C’est la vie I suppose.
If you’d told me at the start of the day, I’d be coming home with a pair of lace-up skinny jeans, I would probably have laughed but that’s exactly what I came home with. Britney in her Crossroads days would be so proud. They too might end up being a fairly fleeting purchase, but right now, I kind of love them.