Mumbai is known for its quintessential queues. The very essence of Mumbai lies in queueing up for everything. You have to stand in a queue to buy a railway ticket, kerosene, milk and also to visit the temple to get a glimpse of your God.
But none beat the queue witnessed during monsoon sales — gliding like a serpent with hundreds of women (mostly) chattering away excitedly. The sale is infectious, and these queues hardly seem to discourage the shoppers, again mostly women.
If you are a compulsive shopper like me, you would definitely keep a tab on the sale season. Let me announce it loud and clear that “I’m no brand freak and I shop at your regular and modest Hill Road, Linking Road and Colaba Causeway street shops”. However, I won’t deny that the joy of a 70 per cent sale is as tempting as chocolate mousse. You simply cannot resist the urge to buy a lovely pair of denims for less than half the original price. I’m all for brands, when it comes to these massive sales. The geek in me also comes alive during these sales, as I immediately start calculating the price after the 70 per cent drop in the original price. Plus sales are a good way to boost your mental math.
Shopping at sales is good, because you get to buy quality material without really feeling the pinch. The first day of the sales is, however, avoidable, unless you want to be pushed, crushed and left bruised in that long queue, which fails to remain one by the time, the sale starts and the store opens.
Shopaholics will usually form the line as early as 6 am. I received a text message from a friend once, asking if I wanted to join her and I politely refused the offer. The first day is best for girls, who are insecure about the “good stuff” running out of stock, within the first few hours of sale. But that’s not entirely true. You do get decent collections on other days, but again you have to be lucky.
To avoid the crowd, go after 8 in the evening and before 1 in the afternoon. This way you can avoid the gang of college girls, who move like swarms of bees, and lay their hands on what is pre-destined. I don’t want to bring in such complex philosophical terms, but I’m forced to, since most women make such sales seem like a huge battle. I’ve seen two girls arguing over a pair of shoes at a Mango sale last year, with one of them hysterically shouting and dramatically moving into tears, before the other girl finally relented.
The emotional upheaval is something to witness. You need to see how a girl would shriek, if she finds her friend buying a lovely top only to realise that another top like that isn’t available in her size. Such girls also drive the attendants crazy with their tantrums.
What’s worse are the tiring endless queues outside trial rooms and at the billing counters. So, it’s not just the main queue you need to face, but these sub-queues, which are mentally exhausting. Keep your patience and temper in check. But sales are not just about women and their obsession. The uncles who accompany their better halves make for a perfect picture of amazement and calm amidst all the chaos. They seem to be actually fascinated by all the madness around them.
Not hard to miss are the dutiful boyfriends, who will stand patiently outside the trial room holding and collecting as the girlfriend experiments with 15 tops and trousers.
Sales do capture the pulse of a woman. For men, who’ve always wondered about what women want, this is essentially what makes most women happy. Sales also invoke the mentality of “if it’s cheap, don’t think twice.” Utility and logic surely
go for a toss, but we aren’t equating logic, women and shopping here. And though sales essentially lighten our pockets, they horde our cupboards
with clothes we would probably never look at after we’ve worn it once. But again, who cares about logic?