V&R @ H&M

I got up at 9 a.m. – 9 a.m.! – so I could get to H&M as soon as they opened and fight the crowds for the Viktor & Rolf collection. I’d heard horror stories about years past when Karl Lagerfeld and Stella McCartney debuted their one-off, high end meets middlebrow collections. The crowds lined up at dawn; they stampeded as soon as the doors opened; hair was pulled; clothing ripped; flesh rended. Both collections sold out within hours – I read somewhere that Stella’s sold out in 11 minutes.

But I had a plan. The night before, I’d clicked through the menswear collection on H&M’s website. I made a list of the pieces I wanted. And then I prioritized. I wanted the shoes, the tank and underwear set with the tux pleats, the argyle sweater, the suite, and the trench coat. The tank and undies and shoes would be relatively easy to snatch up, so I’d go for them first. At $299 the trench might not move as quickly, so that would be next, followed by the suit, which would take longest to size properly. The sweater I wasn’t too sure about, so that could wait.

Of course, I was running late. I got to the H&M on Fifth Avenue at quarter after 10, 15 minutes after they’d opened, and already there was barely anything on the racks. The ground floor was swarming with wannabe fashionistas and Eurotrash, arms loaded with obscene piles of garments.

Luckily, the men’s side of the store was relatively calm; a dozen or so gay boys rifling through what was left; a few women taking what they could get for their boyfriends or gay-boyfriends or whoever. The women’s side, though…it looked like a war zone. Crazy eyed ladies snatching up whatever they could and carrying it off to deserted parts of the store where their mothers guarded their cache; desperate latecomers waiting for the staff to bring out more pieces; vultures eyeing you, waiting to seize a skirt the minute you let go of it. It was a truly harrowing sight.

Stay calm, I thought. You don’t want to make a scene.

I spotted three pairs of shoes. The first pair I picked up was my size. I managed to get the trench and the suit as well. By the time I found the undies my arms were full and I couldn’t bother to rummage through the racks. I noticed a cute blond guy shadowing me. He obviously wanted something I had and was waiting for me to set it down. I started to get nervous and decided it was time to pay for my loot and get out of there.

On my way out I noticed they had brought more argyle sweaters out. I grabbed a small and looked it over. I liked it, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed stupid to buy it. It was so recognizable. I could just imagine walking around Chelsea this winter and seeing six of the same sweater within a 10 block radius. And for that matter, wouldn’t it be the same with the shoes and the trench? All of which begs the question, was all this really worth it? What’s the point of getting designer clothing when everyone knows you got it at H&M? Is it really all that special when hoards of crazed shoppers are grabbing it off the racks like contestants on Shop ‘Til You Drop?

“Excuse me. You had the shoes earlier…” It was the blond boy.

“Yeah.”

“Did you buy them?”

“Yeah, I did, sorry.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes. “I’m just sort of waiting around like a moron for them to bring more stuff out.”

I put down the sweater and walked away.