So waking up at six o'clock on a chilly, wet Cape Town morning is not most people's definition of fun (certainly not mine), unless of course it's for a very good reason. And I don't mean something like work, or gym, I mean:
a. catching a flight to an exotic holiday destination
b. snuggly, half-awake morning sex
c. hitting the sales
This morning saw Mum and I waiting elbow to elbow with other shoppers outside Woolworths at the V&A, anxiously awaiting the 7.30 opening of the doors to account holders so we could gorge ourselves on shoes, accessories and cosmetics.
I know, most girls my age probably wouldn't admit to being a Woollies addict, but screw it, I love them. It's the old rule about buying good basics and building onto them with your trendy boutique buys etceteraaaaaah.
Sadly, Woollies let me down today. Not only were the Country Road heels I've been lusting after since the day I was born (I am meant to have these shoes I tell you) not marked down, there was precious little in the way of beauty booty. What happened to row upon row of discounted mascaras, eyeliners and delicious creamy things?
Sigh...
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