On Saturday morning, we walked through Harrods, Europe’s largest (and most famous) department store. It has been around in some form since 1849, has 330 departments, and sees hundreds of thousands of visitors on a single day.
Harrods has become an icon. We walked through a neighborhood cluttered with amazing cars and full of labels–Prada and Dior and Armani. And there it was.
We saw the world-famous food hall and the Egyptian escalator (did you know Harrods had the first escalator in England?). We walked through perfume and cosmetics and shoes and handbags and clothes. I saw a chic summer dress, very Gatsby, in sunny yellow and light gray designed by Victoria Beckham–but decided against it at the last minute. I remembered just in time that I look like I have malaria in yellow. Also that I didn’t have any money.
All of the cosmetics staff were wearing pearls and feathers. And some of them were serving champagne to customers from ice buckets. They missed us by accident.
I think I have these same ones somewhere.
That’s right, that’s a German Shepherd having a blow-dry and comb-out, folks. Harrods also sells pets (French bulldog, £3800), pedigreed, of course. Only the best at Harrods. We thoroughly enjoyed the pet department, which is strange since we have no pets. (Tiger and Flowering Bush left us long ago after a brief but idyllic three days.)
We shopped for doggie beer and pupcorn and priced dog diapers. I was looking for cloth diapers in organic cotton in case we ever have an incontinent pooch with sensitive skin who cares deeply about the environment, but they were sold out.
The designer petwear really got me. I had stunning outfits picked out for every canine in the family. Sizes were a bit confusing and the dogs weren’t there for a quick visit to the fitting rooms, so we had to forgo.
On the way out I spotted dog dance wear. That would have been the way to go–stretchy fabric is very forgiving. But then, I’m not sure any of our dogs are into ballet.