Some might say it was the yellow and black bag which put Oxford Street on the retail map. Since 1909 the imposing grandeur of founder Harry Gordon Selfridges’s department store has witnessed two world wars, the first public demonstration of the television, an array of Santas, the ebb and flow of fashion’s fickle face and not to mention crowds of nude Londoners exhibited on its escalators in 2003.

Since then, it has gone on to open its doors in Manchester, and Birmingham each with their own nuances towards architectural ingenuity. 15,000 spun Aluminium discs later and the emporium that is Selfridges continues to jump the queues of department stores waiting for their big is best badge. Whether you stroll into ‘The Wonder Room’ becoming so enraptured with the nearest ruby that re-mortgaging seems the only option, gorge on the tastes and testers of the food hall, or wish you could keep that Marc Jacobs dress on for a little while longer, the sheer glossiness of the place will transport you into shopping oblivion. May you over-spritz with perfume, purchase somewhat degrading outfits for you dog, invent friends to fill hampers for…

It’s gifts for gifts' sake.

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Written by  Sybilla Harvey.

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