Survival of the Fittest

It’s the most wonderful time of the year: a period which overloads the senses with a delightful cacophony of sweet smelling Valentines roses, seductive heart shaped chocolates, alluring Easter eggs, and best of all: sidewalk sales. Braving the commercial world really becomes a survival of the fittest, and it all starts in the carpark.

Pulling up to the shopping destination of your choice usually means that you’re in a good mood, especially if it’s the first social interaction you have had in months thanks to the sufficient mountains of homework your adoring teachers have lavished upon you. The perfect parking spot suddenly lands in your crosshairs, immediately boosting your dopamine levels. Just as you are about to claim your trophy, it gets poached by a serial shopper behind the wheel of her husband’s BMW.

Ah, but never fear, for the car guard is already eagerly directing you to another open spot – yes, the same spot you also saw, but decided against because it exceeded the ten step limit set in place by women for optimal travelling distance between the car and the entrance.

Finally, you are able to cross the threshold as the bittersweet aroma of stale sweat and bountiful bargains fills your nostrils. You are now on the prowl for the deal – or deals – of the century, especially considering that this may be your last exposure to societal norms for the century due to the length of your to-do list.

Before any feelings of guilt are able to blind you, you hone in on that dream item. Your toes start tingling, and not only because your beautiful shoes are a little too tight. Suddenly, your spider senses engage because the predator adjacent to you is aiming for the same item – your item. A battle for your honour now ensues, complete with speedwalking and the exchange of dirty looks and hairy eyeballs. Fortunately you are able to pounce first, displaying your obvious superiority.

This routine is repeated several times throughout your expedition, making you realise that your suspicions are indeed true: you have superpowers.

Once you have run out of space for the pile of your new possessions, you stumble towards where you think you parked your car, slightly weighed down by all your packets. You can’t help but feel a little smug, until that annoying car guard magically reappears. You are spotted from the opposite end of the lot, causing the guard to break out into a sprint towards you. As soon as the guard is close enough, he assaults you with puppy dog eyes. You can’t help but notice the luminescent vest strapped tightly to his gut. That is when you realise that your service to humanity for the sake of fashion is embodied by the silver coin you dig out of your now empty purse and place in his palm.

Seeing this battleground disappear in your rear-view mirror gives rise to a sense of accomplishment and pride. When faced with flight or fight, you fought with your life. This makes you a survivor – and a fashionable survivor at that.