Monday, July 28, 2008

Pass the Oxygen Shot to the left hand side

Hello Friends. Braudia, despite wading aimlessly through the treacherous seas of poverty, has gone on a fun-filled adventure once again. This time to London, the fab capital of England (and arguably the world). I hadn’t been to London since 2003, so coming back was a wonderful surprise. I couldn’t believe how many people were swarming the streets- it was exhilarating!! And wonderfully multicultural. So many Arabs, Indians, and South Americans. I was in heaven.

But that’s not all. Get this: it was hot. Not warm- HOT! I actually sweat!

I arrived to the steamy capital at 10am on Friday. Bret was still in Cambridge for his conference, so I took advantage and went off to do girly things, namely comb through the floors of Harrods!! What a display of conspicuous consumption! Everywhere you turn there are signs for Dubai Properties, opulent weddings, and glittering displays of Tiffany, Cartier, and Dior Jewellery.

Despite the fact that there was a 70% off sale, I still couldn’t afford anything. The beluga caviar in the food halls started at a hundred quid for a little vial (the most expensive being escargot caviar for about 400 quid). The food halls are glorious, with fresh exotic fruits, delicately prepared seafood, and decadent desserts. I got some loose mango tea for Bret (ok, so I could afford something) and then grabbed some cute canapés and a prawn pancake for myself. After I wolfed my food down, I went back for a bit of relaxation. Though I contemplated taking a bit of aloe vera juice, I opted instead for a healthy high of oxygen. No, not outdoor air, literally a tank of oxygen. I had seen oxygen cafes become all the rage in LA a few years back, and for 5 quid, I couldn’t say no to 15 minutes of lightheadedness at Harrods.

The spa woman disinfected the nose piece and started the machine of pure, unadulterated O2. I breathed in the fresh air, hoping to get a bit woozy, but nothing happened. After the 15 minute session, I realized I would get a better high checking out more merchandise, so I paid my bill and headed up to the ladies clothes. It was lovely. Diane von Furstenberg and Chloe have the best collections right now. But, as is often the case, the clothes I liked was not the clothes on sale…

While it was getting late and I was getting shopper’s fatigue, I knew I had to check out one more floor: the pet section upstairs. I had read that Harrods carried hypo-allergenic cats, and my desire to interact with fuzzy felines once again was strong. I made my way through the rows of doggie leather jackets, kitty ballet tutus, and delicacies from the Pet Patisserie, complete with ‘mutt-fins’ ‘e-claws’ and ‘pawfitterols’. When I arrived to the pet section, I learned the cats are called Siberian Forest Cats, and they are hypoallergenic because they lack the protein in saliva that makes people allergic. They were going for a mere £1200. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pet them because they were behind the glass. This was rather lame, as was the fact that they were sleeping. In the room next to them were the Papillion pups going for £1500. They were cute, but I think actually Andre is way cuter and more pure bred.

After hours of this mayhem, I decided it was time to leave Mr Fayed’s little shop and head over to Covent Garden…

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