I have a new coat (unsurprising). It makes me look like an overgrown child (nothing new). But the label stitched right under the hood made me do a double-take when I gave it a belated glance: Logo Of Graded Goods had entered my wardrobe.
For the unawares, let me explain. I’ve spent a decent amount of time and money in H&M over the years: a pink baseball top was my first purchase at 15, and I’ve run the gamut of trying to fit into Divided dresses not designed for the 5’10” among us, buying my first Trend pieces before I had anywhere classy to wear them, and getting super confused about how the magnets in the Home section worked (do they still have them? Can anyone enlighten me?) before giving up. All of that over thirteen years, and yet L.O.G.G was shunned. The section stood unvisited in branches I knew; hurried through in those I didn’t. Mannequins loomed dressed in endless variations of Breton T-shirts that weren’t quite right, like Christmas clothes chosen by a well-meaning relative. There was a creeping spread of beige. And then the name: shouldn’t all my goods be graded? Why should a logo proclaim its logo-ness? It’s giving me a headache and I want to go over there and look at some pink patent-leather creepers instead.
Sales are a funny thing and you’ll find countless guides about how, or how not, to shop in them – but I will credit them with being so unbelievably messy that a little bit of L.O.G.G will invade my vision. That I’ll then alight upon it as a replacement for a ‘vintage’ cagoule that’s fallen apart. That I’ll see the label, briefly wonder if this signifies me getting old, realise it matches my M&S water bottle, and realise my question was needless. When your M&S water bottle is a snazzy accessory, you are old beyond time itself.