I'm struggling to think of anything I'd be interested enough to queue for without certain knowledge that at the end of my wait, there'd be guaranteed success.
What I do know, however, is that I'd rather bathe in a vat of angry termites than crawl out of bed at the crack of dawn to join a queue to buy some hideous clothes designed by a man whose ideal woman has the figure of an eight-year-old boy.
Karl Lagerfeld, a man who dresses so terribly that I'm sure I'm missing some kind of desperately retro-chic in-joke, has designed a range of 'cut-price' clothes as a spin-off from his ranges of hideously expensive, ludicrously extravagant clothes for halfwits with more money than sense.
The 'rock-inspired' range of leather collars, sparkly dresses, silver shoes and white shirts was launched simultaneously in London, New York, Paris and Berlin and caused such a stir that security guards had to be called in to control hoards of shoppers keen to snap up a bargain – a jacket, say, for a mere �980.
Everything in the collection looks eerily like a cruise liner singer's wardrobe from the 1980s kicked through Elton John's Rocket Man days or the costumes for a T'Pau video set on the worst market stall in the history of forever. It single-handedly justifies my decision to eschew fashion and any interest in clothes entirely: it is gaudy, classless, unflattering and spectacularly over-priced. I don't like it – perhaps you can tell.
'It's my today's taste and style and a reflection of how I think a great number of people would like to be dressed now,' said Lagerfeld, who has – and I cannot stress this strongly enough – A PONYTAIL.
'I just want not-too-expensive clothes that people may like and perhaps want to wear.'
Just to clarify, most of the collection costs about �500, which is twice the price I paid for my first car and elements of it include fake snakeskin jackets, backless dresses and hooded sweatshirts with PVC sleeves: you know, the kind of stuff that's left over after a jumble sale.
Natalie Massenet, Net-A-Porter's founder, breathlessly told Vogue: 'From the moment we saw the collection we were hooked. The collection will speak to every woman.'
Yes. And I know precisely what it's saying.
I despair at this lemming-like compulsion to own something cheap that someone famous for designing astronomically-expensive rubbish is flogging. It's like buying a Ferrari keyring or BMW toilet roll – or taking a man over the age of 15 with a ponytail seriously. You just shouldn't.
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