Shopping!

Today on breakfast television I learned how to get the WAG look, without bankrupting myself buying designer gear (as one guest on the show had done already). WAG stands for Wives and Girlfriends; in other words footballers' wives. This seems to be the pinnacle to which many UK girls aspire. The look is trashy; Victoria Beckham is the role model: all fake hair, fake nails, fake tan, fake boobs. I read a story before we travelled here that said these women are the the ultimate hero to young British women and it seems to be true, given the media focus on them. I don't know what that says about the country really, but I suspect it's not good. The WAGs don't actually do anything; they just shop and follow their boyfriends around.

On the streets the look abounds, particularly on the young women. It's not always successful; cheap versions of an expensive trashy look tend to appear, well, cheap and trashy. Likewise many of the young girls seem to see themselves as Kate Moss in her skinny jeans and ballet flats. Julia, my lovely stepdaughter who is tall and thin and 16, can do this look well. But as in NZ, there are a lot of people wearing it here who really shouldn't be.

It seems to me, observing street and store fashion, that trends now are global and instant. For example a lot of girls here are doing the cropped tights, just as they are at home and in the US. Likewise "statement" large, brightly-coloured handbags abound, whether real or fake.

Shopping in London is not the fun stroll it is in Australia or New Zealand, or even America. It's an endurance event. More like retail war than retail therapy. "Customer service" seems to be a fairly foreign concept. Actually it doesn't exist at all in the big chain stores; it's self-service, basically. You find what you want, you queue to try it on, you queue to pay for it. If you're lucky you might get a "hello" from the person taking your money. By the middle of the day the shops are chaos; there are clothes, shoes and hangers all over the floor, piles of discarded clothing everywhere. It would make a Kiwi retailer (like Sandy) cringe. If you want help, you're out of luck, with a few rare exceptions. I think English people are probably used to queuing for things and clearly they don't mind bad service. It has been a rude shock for me.

Sandy and I clearly both have an idea in our heads of how we want to look on this trip, especially in Europe. My EuroNiki look is almost complete now after a day or so of shopping. I found the shops so bewildering with their multiple levels of clothing and their huge ranges, that I've gone back to basics. Skinny, ankle-length black pants (very Audrey Hepburn), a fitted puff-sleeve white shirt, simple jersey tops in black and navy. I found a pretty 30s-style dress in a green, black and white print, and a gorgeous brown and white spotted silk skirt.

Of course I have acquired a couple of new pairs of shoes. A cute pair of detailed black ballet pumps and beige jewelled flat sandals. A less glamourous but necessary purchase was a pair of grey suede sneakers which I had to put on straight away to save my feet. I'm over them already; they make me feel like a tourist. I don't know if I will wear them in Paris.

Sandy went looking today for a lightweight, light-coloured jacket. He wanted something he could wear in Italian cafes, something to complete his EuroSandy look, or as I prefer to call it, his "international man of mystery" image. I think my husband already looks pretty stylish all the time, and pretty international. He found a lightweight cotton jacket in Zara, where they had lovely clothes for both men and women. If I lived here, that would probably be my store of choice. That and Selfridges, which is truly fabulous. Because of course if I lived here I would be earning enough to afford the gorgeous things in there.

I've done enough damage on the shopping front now, I think. It's tragic when you have to times everything by three in your head. It tends to make a person feel quite stingy.