A picture of the beauty
Sob.Sob.Sob. Siff noise people make when they’ve been crying to much Sob.Sob.Sob
I realise that saying I’m in love with Makro makes me sound like a lunatic. I’m sure it’s grounds for the instantaneous revoking of ones cool status. It’s not a boutique, it’s well priced and it all about mass marketing, gasp. It’s shocking and it goes against all my get-ripped-off-by-designer-items scruples.
I no idea I’d enjoy shopping The Makro Way. I’ve seen their catalogues, visited their website but - until today - I’d never set foot in one.
It’s not laid out like any of my previous favourite shops but they trump all of them by giving you, the customer, a huge buy-the-whole-shop trolley and they make it even better by selling a whack of very cool stuff for super-duper prices.
Perhaps it was a good thing I’ve discovered Makro this late in my life. Maybe it was my last line of defence? The one thing stopping me from utter financial ruin! I don’t know what I’m going to do now that I’ve discovered the Bargain Mecca.
The only positive is that it’s in Ottery and that’s far, far, far away. It’s almost in a different province. Kind of like Hout Bay.