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Create a 5 page essay paper that discusses Oxford Street: From My Perspective.Download file to see previous pages... Oxford Street: From My PerspectiveThe usually congested Street is even more packed
Create a 5 page essay paper that discusses Oxford Street: From My Perspective.
Download file to see previous pages...Oxford Street: From My Perspective
The usually congested Street is even more packed in those days before winter holidays, as everyone is stocking for Christmas, and mostly shopping their heads off. No wonder then that the two-mile long Oxford Street claims to be the busiest street in Europe. at least the busiest shopping strip. I am always amazed at how many people can fit into the place and move around, while still more pour into it. But the crowd is an integral part of the strip, it wouldn’t do to have it otherwise. Especially as my grandmother had a keen interest in people watching. She would look around with her keen eyes at all the people bustling around, talking with each other, chatting away on cell phones, bags in hands, eyes on the shop windows, looking in to see what new dresses or ties or perfumes or home wares were on stalls, and laugh good-humoredly to herself, which would set my mood off on a good note, and hand in hand, we would mingle in with the others. Soon, keeping the tradition alive, we would also have our fair share of bags, with store ensembles and logos proudly displaying our little ventures.
Our first stop, always, was Selfridges. I didn’t exactly know why, but every time we reached it, we both would involuntarily stop in front of its grand exterior and absorb it all in, silently gazing at it with sparkling eyes and awing at its imposing façade. Maybe it reminded her of strength and youth and opportunities, while I would just marvel at my luck for being her partner in crime. ...
, keeping the tradition alive, we would also have our fair share of bags, with store ensembles and logos proudly displaying our little ventures.
Our first stop, always, was Selfridges. I didn't exactly know why, but every time we reached it, we both would involuntarily stop in front of its grand exterior and absorb it all in, silently gazing at it with sparkling eyes and awing at its imposing faade. Maybe it reminded her of strength and youth and opportunities, while I would just marvel at my luck for being her partner in crime. The reason is not important. The tradition is. And we would hold true to it.
The seven floors of fashion and cosmetics was, frankly, of little attraction to us, as she was too elegant for the funky fashion they offer, and I, too reserved. But that is not to say we didn't like it in there. some window shopping doesn't hurt. Just for the sake of it, she would check out different shades of a particular brand of lipsticks, and although we've been there so many times, she would do that nevertheless. While she would go through the heaps of shades displayed at the multistoried racks and counters, I would stand and sniff in the gamut of perfume scents that hang in the vicinity so thick and rich and permanent like a painting, commingled so intricately that it is quite impossible to tell one from the other, and yet more whiffs constantly being added to the amalgamation as more bottles are opened and sprayed and checked.
