Every time I walk by the Abercrombie and Fitch in the mall, I feel like I’ve been molested. And I’ve never even been inside. This store is an assault on many levels. Instantly, the sense of hearing is pummeled with trance-inducing ‘music.’ Next to fall is the sense of smell. I don’t know if they actually pump musk through the AC or make their employees bathe in the stuff, but it’s powerful almost to the point of tasting it. Last of the bodily senses to fall is the sense of sight. Pulverized. Really, what message are you trying to convey? Buy our clothes and you’ll be running through a field with other hunks and beauties, and it’s ok if your pants are halfway off your butt. That’s cool. This has invaded my sense of decency. My sense of time tells me it’s time to end this post.
Tags: Abercrombie and Fitch, senses
March 21, 2008 at 4:28 am |
You know I heard that in some stores they hire an evening crew to clean and stock. The “pretty” people are just hired for when the store is open. The store is ridiculous.
March 21, 2008 at 7:35 am |
I would definately work the graveyard shift.