Pre Shespy Ibuy
She spy’s it, I try it. I buy it. Shespy Ibuy sound’s Oriental: but she’s no Kato to my Clouseau. Who else could give me, ‘Conversations with Cage’, and then have me in Car Coat? I don’t have a car. She introduced me to the ‘Sebald family’ (all shoes, all sizes); Terence Conran’s son’s spectacles; Duchamp’s ‘Notes on the Large Glass’ (I already knew about his Urinal)… and she bought me a wonderful sea-green toilet seat from Lidl – totally unexpected. She was pivotal in Basel, when I couldn’t decide on the right colour of lorry tarpaulin for my Freitag shoulder bag. I could go on…Celio clothes, Hero phones – there’s poetry in the brand names - raw cameras, and a Bikers’ leather jacket, lined with skull and crossbones (I don’t have a motorbike).
Post Shespy Ibuy
And we never set out to shop: we never go ‘out shopping’. It just sort of happens naturally - on the way to something or somewhere – between places. What I’m saying is: it’s never planned. Occasionally we come together in spontaneous consumerism. Quite often she’ll want something, so I’ll want it as well. Take Designer radiators: we were talking radiators on the phone late into the night recently. She was talking, heating - naming names: The Big One, Anaconda and Ron. Go on, Google them. I did, as she pronounced their names: sculpted pipe-work that’ll get your own pipes gushing! But this doesn’t mean we want the same things. She’s after a leather bed; left to myself I’d be in leather trousers. Shespy Ibuy don’t always see eye to eye.
Pre Shespy Ibuy
But say I lost my job? No money: no more Shespy Ibuy. And I’d have time on my hands. I could volunteer to man in-store security cameras in all the shops we frequented: I’d Ispy Shespy. But how would I feel if I saw her personal shopping with another? Drawing the curtains of a changing room on another?
Pictures by Lucinda Wells (who informs me, is a mermaid after all)
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