So imagine my surprise when I popped by Easons in the north of Dublin this afternoon, and find six, pristine, wonderfully swathed in plastic, Vogue Italia issues. I had found six needles in a haystack. And I didn't even put in any effort - just like going to church.
I was in such a rush to get home that I had forgotten to take out a 10 euro bill from my wallet, queue, and buy one.
The magazines were all hudled beside each other, looking out sadly, like those pathetic little puppies in the pound, eager for sometbody, anybody, to adopt - or in this case, buy - them.
How is it that such gems are left alone, at the very bottom of the shelf, without the oogling, savage eyes of hardcore fashion junkies, suspiciously eyeing everybody - in case they might get the issue for themselves?
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