Public smoking ban vs Posh clothes stores

GOOD THING: PUBLIC SMOKING BAN

It's probably fair to say that I like it when people get what they deserve, in a non-lethal way of course. Drivers of SUVs have incurred my wrath in the past, and so I was somewhat elated to hear that they would be slapped with a new tax (although just slapped would have suited me fine as well.) Similarly, I was very happy to hear that the UK would soon see the introduction of a law to prevent smoking in public places. Okay, so it's trendy at the moment to be down on smokers, but really, what is their defence? It's absolutely their choice if they want to puff themselves to a premature and unpleasant death, but smokers' rights as human beings do not extend to being able to inflict the filth on others. I'm not a big drinker anyway, but one of the main reasons I hardly ever venture into pubs is that you're constantly choking on someone's fag smoke, and when you get home you realise that your clothes, hair - and now your house - smell of it too. The same is true in restaurants; I was in a cafe just today where the owner and her son/assistant (who didn't have much custom) were sitting at a table near the entrance, chatting to a regular and smoking continuously. There is no much thing as a non-smoking table in a cafe where any smoking is permitted, as I realised as I fought my way through the fug in order to pay. It also put me off ordering any food on the menu. So hurrah for a smoking ban - I'm secretly looking forward to seeing little huddles of shameful smokers trying to light up on the street in the rain. Who knows, maybe the whole thing will bring on a second Civil War....

BAD THING: POSH CLOTHES STORES
I've always hated shopping (see previous blog about women's clothes), but I have a real objection to those clothes stores that are self-consciously trendy and deliberately try to put off about 85% of the consumer public. Top of my list is Jane Norman, which should actually be called Jane Norman: For Thin People. Now, I'm not one of these bitter women who wish they were a size 8 - aside from the occasional wobbly bit, I'm actually pretty satisfied with my clothes size - but Jane Norman tests my patience. The models in the windows are so thin that if you look at them from the side they almost disappear from plain view; and people clearly covet the shopping bags from there because it demonstrates to ordinary folk that they're waif-like and desirable. And then there are shops like Reiss, which I have only ventured into once because I had to buy gift vouchers for a colleague. Loads of clothes stores are like this - white decor, racks with clothes sparsely arranged, glass and chrome everywhere, and price tags that would take your eye out. When I looked at the women shopping in there I knew that I must be sticking out like a sore thumb. The girl at the counter spoke to me as though I was a care-in-the-community case who had wandered in there accidentally. And that brings me onto another thing - the shop assistants in these places. It took 3 assistants in Reiss nearly 10 minutes to sell me a gift voucher; one of them, by her own admission, knew nothing, and the other two knew just about enough between them to get us all through the painful transaction. None of them had been hired for their intellect, but they were all 21, with flawless skin, visible hipbones and perfect hair. I shouldn't be so cruel, but then where would the fun be in that?