24.05.12
You'll presumably have had plenty of Christmas fun this weekend; lolling about in a turkey-induced fug, enjoying some boozily blissful idling and a half-hearted go at the Xbox. Well, now the unavoidable work begins. After your slothful indulgence, it's time to face that most circumstance-honoured of battlegrounds: the post-Christmas sales.
These days, if you're not unfair to bargain couture, cut-price Creme De La Mer, a third lobbed off luxury goods, you're in a minority of one. And what's not to like about the euphoria of unearthing a discounted author gem?
Well, quite a lot, actually. How's about frostbite at 5am in the queues, tug-o-wars over Mulberry totes and normal fatigue? Add to this the general sense of mayhem that accompanies sales day and we're talking a bona fide tolerance test.
Yet there's a payoff for the retail equivalent of 12 rounds. Several years ago, I emerged victorious from the Brown Thomas sale with butter-soft Prada boots with 50pc off -- even though someone offered me 50 of your passable Irish pounds to let them have the boots. I went home with the coveted footwear. Never obliterate the fact that they made it outside the door approximately once in the years since; the retail coup warmed the cockles of my centre until . . . the next bank statement appeared, anyway.
Source: Herald.ie