Here’s the thing – working at Raw is going to bankrupt me. I'm now well into week 3 and am simply LOVING agency life. A fabulous team, young, funny, eager, fresh. Plus a great mix of clients. Coming from a varied PR background that has largely encompassed cars, construction, indie bands and lads mags it is a DELIGHT to be able to write about something I know about - party frocks and the like.
But there is one problem that is having an adverse effect on two key relationships in my life – my already tenuous union with the bank manager and the one I have with my landlady (who also happens to double up as my Mother).
Let me explain. Raw Creative is situated in the beautiful and elegant spa town of Harrogate and within its CBD, it possesses some of the most decadent, luxurious and stylish shops known to the British High Street.
I have been based out of some interesting locations in my time – London’s South Bank for starters. Oh so beautiful and perfect if you want to go for a lunch time jog (in case you were wondering - not once in four years). But with a stark absence of anything but Prêt and a smattering of tourist shops, there was little to tempt me in the way of material gains.
London Bridge – again, slap bang in the hubbub of London life but nothing much in the way of retail distractions. A grimy industrial estate on the outskirts of East Leeds – which, though as glamorous as a dose of gastric flu, really did wonders for the wallet.
So it really is a joy to work in such swish surroundings. On stepping out of Raw’s front door I am greeted by Space NK, Molton Brown, LK Bennett, Brora, Cath Kidston Jack Wills and Pandora. A few steps down the road and high street jewels TopShop, River Island, H&M and New Look beckon me in with their booty of festive fashion. So far, a quick trip to the Post Office has resulted in 2 winter coats, a new handbag, a shiny top, a lip gloss and some expensive body lotion. Yesterday, I had every intention of going to Boots to get my fix of Shapers tuna on brown. So how then, did I find myself veering wildly into Jaegar to try on a sheepskin coat which was reduced from £575 to JUST £190. I mean that's an investment right?
I have now taken to smuggling my ill-gotten gains into the house like a petty thief, as Mother eyes me suspiciously – “I haven’t seen THAT coat before?”, “Is that ANOTHER new top?” “Have I had your rent this month Aimi or are you paying me in new shoes?” You get the idea.
I’m convinced the novelty of being so close to this veritable shopping oasis is going to wear off. In any case, I’m far too busy peddling my PR wares to be taking a lunch –hour.
But in the meantime, Primark (yes amazingly there is one in the 'Gate) has become my methadone and like every struggling addict I am slowly learning to wean myself off the lunch-time sugar hit....
Shall I go Primark for a ￡3 t-shirt then paint "JW" on it? :)
Posted by: Jack Wills | February 22, 2012 at 06:49 AM