[購物狂.系列].2.shopaholic.abroad.doc

Shopaholic Takes Manhattan(aka Shopaholic Abroad)BySOPHIE KINSELLAThe second book in the Shopaholic series(2001) Endwich BankFULHAM BRANCH3 Fulham RoadLondon SW6 9JHMs Rebecca BloomwoodFlat 24 Burney RdLondon SW6 8FD18 July 2001Dear Miss BloomwoodThank you for your letter of 15 July. I am pleased to hear that you have now been with Endwich Bank for nearly five years.Unfortunately we do not offer a Five Year Bonus as you suggest, nor a Clean Slate, Start Again overdraft amnesty. I agree that both are good ideas.I am instead prepared to extend your overdraft limit by another 500, taking it up to 4,000, and suggest that we meet before too long to discuss your ongoing financial needs.Yours sincerelyDerek SmeathManagerENDWICH, BECAUSE WE CAREEndwich BankFULHAM BRANCH3 Fulham RoadLondon SW6 9JHMs Rebecca BloomwoodFlat 24 Burney RdLondon SW6 8FD23 July 2001Dear Miss BloomwoodI am glad that my letter of 18 July proved helpful.I should however be grateful if you would refrain from referring to me personally on your television show as Sweetie Smeathie and the best bank manager in the world.Although naturally I am pleased you feel this way, my superiors are a little anxious at the image of Endwich Bank which is being presented, and have asked that I write to you on the matter.With all best wishesDerek SmeathManagerENDWICH, BECAUSE WE CAREEndwich BankFULHAM BRANCH3 Fulham RoadLondon SW6 9JHMs Rebecca BloomwoodFlat 24 Burney RdLondon SW6 8FD20 August 2001Dear Miss BloomwoodThank you for your letter of 18 August.I was sorry to hear that keeping within your new overdraft limit is proving so difficult. I understand that the Piedh Terre summer sale does not happen every week, and I can certainly increase your limit by 63.50, if, as you say, this would make all the difference.However, I would also recommend that you come into the branch for a more comprehensive review of your financial situation. My assistant, Erica Parnell, will be pleased to set up an appointment.Yours sincerelyDerek SmeathManagerENDWICH, BECAUSE WE CAREChapter OneOK, dont panic. Dont panic. Its simply a question of being organized and staying calm and deciding what exactly I need to take. And then fitting it all neatly into my suitcase. I mean, just how hard can that be?I step back from my cluttered bed and close my eyes, half hoping that if I wish hard enough, my clothes might magically arrange themselves into a series of neat folded piles. Like in those magazine articles on packing, which tell you how to go on holiday with one cheap sarong (馬來群島土人所穿的圍裙skirt made from a piece of fabric wrapped around the body and fastened at the waist (worn by men and women in Malaysia and other Pacific islands) and cleverly turn it into six different outfits. (Which I always think is a complete con, because, OK, the sarong costs ten quid, but then they add loads of clothes which cost hundreds, and were not supposed to notice.)But when I open my eyes again, the clutter is all still there. In fact, there seems to be even more of it, as if while my eyes were shut, my clothes have been secretly jumping out of the drawers and running around on my bed. Everywhere I look, all around my room, there are huge great tangled piles of. well. stuff. Shoes, boots, T-shirts, magazines. a Body Shop gift basket that was on sale . a Linguaphone (靈格風(fēng)) Italian course which I must start. a facial sauna thingy (object whose name is not known or has been forgotten, whatchamacallit).And, sitting proudly on my dressing table, a fencing mask and sword which I bought yesterday. Only forty quid from a charity shop!I pick up the sword and experimentally give a little lunge towards my reflection in the mirror. It was a real coincidence, because Ive been meaning to take up fencing for ages, ever since I read this article about it in the Daily World. Did you know that fencers have better legs than any other sports people? Plus if youre an expert you can become a stunt double (特技替身) in a film and earn loads of money! So what Im planning to do is find some fencing lessons nearby, and get really good, which I should think Ill do quite quickly.And then, this is my secret little plan, when Ive got my gold badge, or whatever it is, Ill write to Catherine Zeta Jones. Because she must need a stunt double, mustnt she? And why shouldnt it be me?In fact shed probably prefer someone British. Maybe shell phone back and say she always watches my television appearances on cable, and shes always wanted to meet me! God, yes. Wouldnt that be great?Well probably really hit it off, and turn out to have the same sense of humor and everything. And then Ill fly out to her luxury home, and get to meet Michael Douglas and play with the baby. Well be all relaxed together like old friends, and some magazine will do a feature on celebrity best friends and have us in it, and maybe theyll even ask me to be.Hi, Bex! With a jolt, the happy pictures of me laughing with Michael and Catherine vanish from my head, and my brain snaps into focus. Suze, my flat mate, is wandering into my room, wearing a pair of ancient paisley pyjamas. What are you doing? she asks curiously.Nothing! I say, hastily putting the fencing sword back. Just. you know. Keep fit.Oh, right, she says vaguely. So, hows the packing going? She wanders over to my mantelpiece, picks up a lipstick and begins to apply it. Suze always does this in my room, just wanders about picking things up and looking at them and putting them down again. She says she loves the way you never know what you might find, like in a junk shop. Which Im fairly sure she means in a nice way.Its going really well, I say. Im just deciding which suitcase to take.Ooh, says Suze turning round, her mouth half bright pink. What about that little cream one? Or your red holdall?I thought maybe this one, I say, hauling my new acid green shell case out from under the bed. I bought it at the weekend, and its absolutely gorgeous.Wow! says Suze, her eyes widening. Bex! Thats fab! Where did you get it?Fenwicks, I say, grinning broadly. Isnt it amazing?Its the coolest case Ive ever seen! says Suze, running her fingers admiringly over it. So . how many suitcases have you got now? She glances up at my wardrobe, on which are teetering a brown leather case, a lacquered trunk and three vanity cases小化妝箱.Oh, you know, I say, shrugging a little defensively. The normal amount.I suppose I have been buying quite a bit of luggage recently. But the thing is, for ages I didnt have any, just one battered old canvas bag. Then, a few months ago I had an incredible revelation in the middle of Harrods, a bit like St Paul on the road to Mandalay. Luggage. And since then, Ive been making up for all the lean years.Besides which, everyone knows good luggage is an investment.Im just making a cup of tea, says Suze. Dyou want one?Ooh, yes please! I say. And a KitKat? Suze grins.Definitely a KitKat.Recently, we had this friend of Suzes to stay on our sofa, and when he left he gave us this huge boxfull of a hundred KitKats. Which is such a great thank-you present, but it means all we eat, all day long, is KitKats.Still, as Suze pointed out last night, the quicker we eat them, the quicker theyll be gone, so in a way, its more healthy just to stuff in as many as possible. Suze ambles out of the room and I turn to my case. Right. Concentrate. Packing. This really shouldnt take long. All I need is a very basic, pared (cut off, trim away)-down capsule wardrobe for a mini-break in Somerset. Ive even written out a list, which should make things nice and simple.Jeans: two pairs. Easy. Scruffy (dirty, unkempt, disheveled) and not quite so scruffy. T-shirts: Actually, make that three pairs of jeans. Ive got to take my new Diesel ones, theyre just so cool, even if they are a bit tight. Ill just wear them for a few hours in the evening or something.T-shirts: O, and my embroidered cutoffs from Oasis, because I havent won them yet. But they dont really count because theyre practically shorts. And anyway, jeans hardly take up any room, do they?OK, thats probably enough jeans. I can always add some more if I need to.T-shirts selection. So lets see. Plain white, (Calvin Klein), other black vest (Warehouse but actually looks nicer), pink sleeveless, pink sparkly, pink, I stop, halfway through transferring folded T-shirts into my case. This is stupid. How am I supposed to predict which T-shirts Im going to want to wear? The whole point about T-shirts is you choose them in the morning according to your mood, like crystals, or aromatherapy oils. Imagine if I woke up in the mood for my Elvis is Groovy T-shirt and I didnt have it with me? You know, I think Ill just take them all. I mean, a few T-shirts arent going to take up much room, are they? Ill hardly even notice them.I tip them all into my case and add a couple of cropped bra-tops for luck.Excellent. This capsule approach is working really well. OK, whats next?Ten minutes later, Suze wanders back into the room, holding two mugs of tea and three KitKats to share. (Weve come to agree that four sticks, frankly, doesnt do it.)Here you are, she says, then gives me a closer look. Bex, are you OK?Im fine, I say, rather pink in the face. Im just trying to fold up this gilet背心a bit smaller.Ive already packed a denim jacket and a leather jacket, but you just cant count on September weather, can you? I mean, at the moment its hot and sunny, but it might well start snowing tomorrow. And what happens if Luke and I go for a really rustic country walk? Besides which, Ive had this gorgeous Patagonia gilet for ages, and Ive only worn it once. I try to fold it again, but it slithers out of my hands and onto the floor. God, this reminds me of camping trips with the Brownies, and trying to get my sleeping bag back into its tube.How long are you going for, again? asks Suze.Three days. I give up trying to squash the gilet into the size of a matchbox, and it springs jauntily back to shape. Feeling slightly discomfited, I sink onto the bed and take a sip of tea. What I dont understand is, how do other people manage to pack so lightly? You see businesspeople all the time, striding onto planes with only a tiny shoe-box suitcase on wheels and a smug expression. How do they do it? Do they have magic shrinking clothes? Is there some secret way to fold everything up so it fits into a matchbox?Why dont you take your holdall as well? suggests Suze.Dyou think? I look uncertainly at my overflowing suitcase. Come to think of it, maybe I dont need three pairs of boots. Or a fur stole女用披肩.Then it occurs to me that Suze goes away nearly every weekend, and she only ever takes a tiny squashy bag. Suze, how do you pack? Do you have a system?I dunno, she says vaguely. I suppose I still do what they taught us at Miss Burtons. You work out an outfit for each occasion, and stick to that. She begins to tick off on her fingers. Like . journey down, dinner, sitting by the pool, game of tennis . She looks up. Oh yes, and each garment should be used at least three times.God, Suze is a genius. She knows all this kind of stuff. Her parents sent her to Miss Burtons Academy when she was eighteen, which is some posh (Slang) luxurious, opulent, elegant) place in London where they teach you things like how to talk to a bishop and get out of a sports car in a miniskirt. She knows how to make a rabbit out of chicken wire細(xì)鐵絲網(wǎng), too.Quickly I start to jot some broad headings on a piece of paper. This is much more like it. Much better than randomly stuffing things into a case. This way, I wont have any superfluous (excessive; unnecessary) clothes, just the bare minimum.Outfit 1: Sitting by pool (sunny)Outfit 2: Sitting by pool (cloudy)Outfit 3: Sitting by pool (bottom looks huge in morning)Outfit 4: Sitting by pool (someone else has same swimsuit)Outfit 5: .In the hall the phone rings, but I barely look up. I can hear Suze talking excitedly, then a moment later she appears in the doorway, her face all pink and pleased.Guess what? she says. Guess what?What?Box Beautiful have sold out of my frames! They just phoned up to order some more!Oh Suze! Thats fantastic! I shriek. I know! She comes running over, and we have a big hug, and sort of dance about, before she realizes shes holding a cigarette and is about to burn my hair. The amazing thing is, Suze only started making frames a few months ago, but already, shes supplying four shops in London, and theyre doing really well! Shes been in loads of magazines, and everything. Which isnt surprising, because her frames are so cool. Her latest range is in purple tweed, and they come in these gorgeous grey sparkly boxes, all wrapped in bright turquoise tissue paper. (I helped choose the exact colour, by the way.) Shes so successful, she doesnt even make them all herself any more, but sends off her designs to a little workshop in Kent, and they come back, all made up.So, have you finished working your wardrobe out? she says, taking a drag on her cigarette.Yes, I say, brandishing my sheet of paper at her. Ive got it all sorted out. Down to every last pair of socks.Well done!And the only thing I need to buy, I add casually, is a pair of lilac sandals.Lilac sandals?Mmm? I look up innocently. Yes. I need some. You know, just a nice cheap little pair to pull a couple of outfits together.Oh right, says Suze, and pauses, frowning slightly. Bex. werent you talking about a pair of lilac sandals last week? Really expensive, from LK Bennett?Was I? I feel myself flush a little. I . I dont remember. Maybe. Anyway -Bex. Suze gives me a suddenly suspicious look. Now tell me the truth. Do you really need a pair of lilac sandals? Or do you just want them?No! I say defensively. I really need them! Look! I take out my clothes plan, unfold it, and show it to Suze. I have to say, Im rather proud of it. Its quite a complicated flow chart, all boxes and arrows and red asterisks.Wow! says Suze. Where did yon learn how to do that? At university, I say modestly. I read Business and Accounting for my degree, and its amazing how often it comes in handy.Whats this box? she asks, pointing at the page.Thats. I squint at it, trying to remember. I think thats if we go out to some really smart restaurant and Ive already worn my Whistles dress the night before.And this one?Thats if we go rock-climbing. And this, I point to an empty box, is where I need a pair of lilac sandals. If I dont have them, then this outfit wont work, and neither will this one . and the whole thing will disintegrate. I might as well not bother going.Suze is silent for a while, perusing my clothes plan while I bite my lip anxiously and cross my fingers behind my back.I know this may seem a little unusual. I know most people dont run every single purchase past their flatmate. But the fact is, a while ago I kind of made Suze a little promise, which was that Id let her keep tabs on my shopping. You know. Just keep an eye on things.Dont get the wrong idea here. Its not like I have a shopping problem, or anything. Its just that a few months ago, I did get into a . well, a very slight money scrape (predicament, difficult situation). It was really just a tiny blip, nothing to worry about. But Suze got really freaked out when she found out about it, and said that for my own good, shed vet (check, examine) all my spending from now on.And shes been as good as her word. Shes very strict, actually. Sometimes Im really quite scared she might say no.I see what you mean, she says at last. You havent really got a choice, have you?Exactly, I say in relief. I take the plan from her, fold it up and put it into my bag.Hey Bex, is that new? says Suze suddenly. She pulls my wardrobe door open and I feel a twinge of nerves. Shes frowning at my lovely new honey-coloured coat, which I smuggled into the flat the other day when she was in the bath. I mean, obviously I was planning to tell her about it. I just never got around to it.Please dont look at the price tag, I think feverishly. Please dont look at the price tag.Erm. yes, I say. Yes, it is new. But the thing is. I need a good coat, in case I get asked to do an outside broadcast for Morning Coffee.Is that likely? asks Suze, puzzled. I mean, I thought your job was just sitting in the studio, giving financial advice.Well . you never know. Its always best to be prepared.I suppose so says Suze doubtfully. And what about this top? She pulls at a hanger. Thats new, too!Thats to wear on the show, I reply promptly.And this skirt?For the show.And these new trousers?For the -Bex. Suze looks at me with narrowed eyes. How many outfits have you got to wear on the show?Well, you know, I say defensively. I need a few back-ups. I mean, Suze, this is my career were talking about. My career.Yes, says Suze eventually. Yes, I suppose it is. She reaches for my new red silk jacket. This is nice.I know, I beam. I bought it to wear on my January special!Have you got a January special? says Suze. Ooh, whats it about?Its going to be called Beckys Fundamental Financial Principles, I say, reaching for my lip gloss. It should be really good. Five ten-minute slots, just me!So, what are your fundamental financial principles? asks Suze interestedly.Erm . well, I havent really got any yet, I say, carefully painting my lips. But you know. Ill make them up a bit nearer the time. I snap my li