Abercrombie & Fitch, how do we love thee? Let us count the ways.
Your shops are like nightclubs, so dark that you cannot see the colour of the produce you’re looking at.
Your shops pump that horrible smell into the streets so we can’t even go near Cecconi’s round the back of the Royal Academy without it in the back of our throats.
Your global policy seems to be to ruin streets formerly known for traditional clothing (there’s a new A&F kids’ store scheduled for Savile Row, like they haven’t ruined it already).
And your stores only employ the beautiful (strictly along American ideas of beauty lines, you understand) on the shop floor and if you think you stand a chance of having a Bruce Weber A&F shoot in your portfolio, you have to do store time to even be in with a chance. And let’s not even start with the half naked men for fat girls to drape themselves over as you go in.
Anyways, it turns out that Abercrombie & Fitch (the ones who have somehow persuaded straight men it’s OK to walk around town with a big picture of another man’s pubic hair on their shopping bag – the only thing we can think of that we salute them for) is getting rid of all the shit writing on the front of their stuff. We thought that was the only reason people paid over the odds for it in the first place!
Turns out the tide has turned and people – as in the people who buy this stuff – want unbranded clothes. And so, from now on their clobber will be largely unbranded. It’s the way it works. And before we’re rude about everyone who ever bought any, we once had a turquoise top but it did just have the moose logo and none of the A&F bollocks. The quality, however, was and we quote ourselves ‘quite nice’.
This whole Abercrombie & Fitch thing will soon be a thing of the past,