Slow hand clap today for my spiritual home, The White Company, who as it turns out do not just purvey luxurious white and muted grey goods to the leisurely middle classes, but also unwittingly confirm that you, and everyone you know are probably JUST TOO POOR to properly appreciate their finer things.
I’m talking of course about my CASHMERE BED SOCKS, capitalised because 1. I wanted them for years, and 2. any pair of socks that costs £35 should always be referred to in LOUD, so everyone knows how special they (and you) are. Also, my mum bought them for me, so I think that makes me slightly less of an idiotic waster, but only just.
So, socks, right? For putting on your feet. But cashmere socks – well, these are something else. These are for putting on your feet whilst probably wearing silk pyjamas . At noon. Whilst LOUNGING. Whilst gazing wistfully into the middle distance of your improbably large, whitewashed, immaculately presented barn coversion in just the right part of north Norfolk, not too far from the sea, but just far enough away from the smell of chips and poverty coming from the caravan park.
As I don’t have one of these, my approximation of pure heaven usually involved wearing them to avoid the chills in my building site/house, whilst watch the Kardashians with a mug of prosecco and family sized tub of hummous, but let’s face it people – whatever floats your boat. So imagine my upset when I looked down to find two big holes in my luxury socks one night.
poor concerned with getting good value for money, I emailed The White Company, to politely enquire about getting replacements (£35 for holey socks people!!! No, no, no.) They politely responded, telling me, politely, to go fuck myself basically:
Cashmere is an extremely delicate fabric and our bed socks have been made as a luxury item to wear whilst in bed. Therefore, if you do need to leave your bed for any reason, we do recommend that they are removed before walking on the ground with them.
What I love about this is the underlying suggestion that most of their customers don’t normally need to leave their beds for any reason, let alone put their actual, socked-or-otherwise feet (the horror) ON THE GROUND.
Most probably, the average White Company customer simply floats around their beautiful home on a cloud of sweetly scented goose down, accompanied by a sock-butler, for those taxing moments where you need to put your feet on the floor but might forget to take your own socks off before doing so.
So down to earth with a bump for me as I realise that I’m not cut out for this sort of thing at all. I can’t float, do on occasion need to leave my bed for 1. charging the iPad and 2. making enough money to keep me in unnecessary and frivolous luxury items, so it’s back to the drawing board for a lifestyle re-think.
More as it comes.
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