I don’t know if it’s just being away from Glasgow, the close proximity of the magnificent Westfield Centre over there or what it is, but these days, I feel weary of the well-trodden vintage shopping trail and weirdly, the pages of my Independent Shopping city guide are leaving me cold. All very out of character. I feel out of sync with my own self.
While I wait for some renewed indie inspiration and the resurfacing of my creative ‘mojo’ (for want of a better word – and trust me, I really, really wish I could have avoided the word ‘mojo’), I’m amusing myself by revisiting [dun, dun, duuuuuuuun...] The High Street.
I stumbled upon Cos in Glasgow around Christmas time. I took Santa (my mother) there. I asked Santa Clause if (s)he might gift me a dress I liked. Santa told me my dream frock made me look 6 months pregnant and subsequently talked me out of it. In my tummy, I hoped Santa was playing a trick. You know, one of those classic Santa tricks where (s)he pretends you’re not getting the present you really, really would like very much but then on Christmas Day you’re presented with a surprise parcel and are super pleased to realise Santa didn’t really mean it when (s)he said you looked 6 months pregnant and had only gone and bought your present when you weren’t there to make the whole affair all the more special. Christmas Day came and went and no Cos frock emerged from any Christmas cubby holes.
I was lucky to receive quite a lot of ‘money-in-a-card’ style presents from aunties and in-laws and as they all totted up, I had more than enough cashola to buy the dress I wanted from Cos myself. And I did. I also bought yellow tights and cow print shoes. Convinced this outfit would be the outfit I’d wear in London when I met Mary Portas (who would then obviously go on to think I was quite fabulous, realise very quickly how painfully talented I am and insist I work with her on a Top Secret Project to reinvigorate the retail landscape), I felt the investment was well worth it.
Apart from trying it on once to show Beardy how well my cow print shoes and yellow tights complimented it, I vowed not to wear My Cos Dress outside until I reached London. When I reached London I vowed not to wear it outside until I was definitely going to be in the same room as Mary Portas. However, I did decide that it was ok to wear it to have my portrait taken for my Vintage Correspondent 2012 profile.
Since meeting Mary Portas seemed really rather unlikely, I broke the promise and wore my dress to a meeting (albeit a very exciting meeting). I announced to everyone there, following loads of lovely compliments about my choice of frock, that I’d bought it specially from Cos and that I promised myself I wouldn’t wear it until I felt the occasion was special enough. ”Today’s the day!”, I shared enthusiastically. Maybe too enthusiastically. I’m quite sure the former-fancy-magazine-editor-turned-fancy-Brand-Manager and glamalicious Chief Brand Ambassador thought I was nuts – though really they should think themselves lucky that I didn’t go on to explain that I’d teamed the frock with white tights instead of yellow as originally intended and that I’d ditched my cow print shoes for my mary janes – which, as it happens, I bought specially for the Nokia tour etc., etc.. It’s a shame really. It’s not their fault I haven’t had any money to buy brand new clothes in over 3 years…
Anyway – the long and short of it? I am now obsessed with Cos. I pronounce it Cossss but other people I’ve mentioned it to have pronounced the name Coz. Like ‘cos’/because. That’s not right is it? How could such a lovely fashion brand have such an unpleasant and jaggy name? I’m sure it must be Cossss. Do you know?
These are some of the beautiful things you could buy from Cos if you wanted to…
Reversed Sleeve Top
A-Line Cotton Skirt
Green Elasticated Waist Dress
Flap Pocket Shirt Dress
Leather Pocket Dress
I think it’s quite, quite obvious that I did not take these photographs and I’d point and laugh at the person who thinks I did/thinks I have the brass neck or iffy morals to pass them off as my own. I have borrowed all product shots from the Cos website.
Now. Listen up. The next time someone criticises you or laughs at you or pokes you with one of those novelty plastic walking stick things filled with Smarties when you try explaining that some clothes have special powers, don’t you listen to ‘em! My Cos Dress? It IS magic. And I can prove it.