Return of the Mack - A New Look Story and an Update

So, most of you have probably opened presents and gorged yourself on food. Now it's time to settle down with your laptop or iPad, get away from the family argument, and have a little read of what I like to call, a New Look story (seriously though, it's just about returning a coat with some mainly fictional drama).

I needed a new coat. I'm not about faux fur trims or looking like I should don a pair of Hunter wellies, a shotgun, and four dead fox carcasses. I know how to wear a jumper, rather than just sling it around my shoulders. The Made in Chelsea look wasn't for me. I wanted something with pockets and a hood. Not a hugely massive challenge by any means, right? Oh reader, how could you be so wrong and misguided and quite honestly, a little bit stupid.

I spent weeks looking for the perfect coat.

"Why can't I find anything that suits me?" I thought to myself, while putting yet another unsuccessful garment back on the rail. "I mean, I know I'm child-sized, but surely everyone wants a hood and pockets at the very least?" My face lit up as I spotted a blue hooded number. Tiny pockets. Not big enough for a hand, let alone my Oyster card. I walked out dejected, getting soaked in the drizzle that mixed with the tears falling from my eyes.

Then, reader, my fortune was to change. The end was in sight. My quest was nearing an end. One lunchtime in November I wandered into New Look on Gracechurch Street in London and picked a Grey Coat with the loveliest, biggest hood to protect me from the morning rain. They had a size 6 in store, so I grabbed it and ran for my life, of course paying for the Coat before I ran. Do you know how rare a well-fitting coat is to a petite/childish figure like mine, reader? They're like gold and saffron dust. Mixed together. That's how rare. A yellow paste of value.

I wore my New Coat coat on and off for a week, gradually easing away from the black Primark number that was so comfortable, yet far too worn and bobbled to look presentable. Like, not even charity shop worthy. It was a good coat and had served me well, like a loyal dog. But the ripped pockets meant loose change would end up around my back which was inconvenient.

So for two weeks now I've worn my New Coat. I've loved it. But then fate was to play a cruel game with my heart. No sooner had the rain started falling, but my Coat started coming apart, literally at the seams. The magnetic buttons lost their stitching. The pocket came away from the lining. After shopping in New Look since I was yea high *holds hand at head level because I really haven't grown that much since I was 15* this is the worst thing I've ever bought. And at £40-odd, it wasn't on. "Why?!" I cried, hands held aloft towards the sky, questioning, searching for answers from an omnipotent deity in the heavens above.

Now, like the moron I am, I threw away my receipt. I've never had an issue with New Look's clothes before, I loved the coat, and wasn't planning on ever returning it.

So like most of us in the modern age so easily do, I tweeted New Look to ask what I should do about it.

@sixoutoftenmag: Hi @NewLookFashion I bought a coat from you 2 weeks ago and it's falling apart! What should I do about this please?

The ever-helpful Bess offered some advice:
@thrghlyenglish:  It's faulty, you can just return it

@sixoutoftenmag: Without a receipt d'ya think? I stupidly threw it away - never have a problem with NL usually.

Then, New Look picked up the tweet, in fairy record speed
@NewLookHelp:  Don't panic, Just pop us a DM and we can help. #NLPip

I tried to send a DM - but it failed!
@sixoutoftenmag: Thanks, can you confirm you have my DM? I'm on a shoddy computer!

@NewLookHelp:  Hiya, No we haven't got it? Try again #NLBobbie :)

And again, with no joy
@sixoutoftenmag: Hmmm. Still nothing? Could I email instead?

Sadly, unlike ASOS or even Pret, emailing doesn't seem to be an option
@NewLookHelp: You can send us a inbox message on facebook, or you can send us a message through the website? #NLBobbie

I'm not a fan of contact forms. Things very often get missed or lost in cyberspace.
@sixoutoftenmag: Sorry, I don't have FB or access to the website. It was bought in store by Gracechurch St if that helps? Stitching's fallen apart

@NewLookHelp: Are you able to send us a message on the contact us page on the website?

Realising there's no other option, I replied that I'd wait until I got home.
@sixoutoftenmag: Sorry, I'm on an ancient computer at the moment. I'll send something over when I'm at home. Thank you!

@NewLookHelp: No problem :D #NLBobbie

Getting home, I sent customer services an email, and had a message back saying it would take two days for a reply. I thought it would be ok. What's two days out of a lifetime? But considering ASOS is far more user friendly, and with Pret even offering email support for that one time my sandwich was sub par (no pun intended because they don't even made subs), New Look's system really is behind the times. The two days felt like an eternity or waiting, refreshing and hoping.

And so I waited. Then, one afternoon, I received an email, fresh and bold and unread. As long as I brought in a bank statement, I should be able to get a refund, it told me. So this Boxing Day, along with millions of others returning unwanted gifts, I'll head over to New Look to return my fault coat. Only time will tell how it pans out.

To be continued...

...NOW.

Ok, so I didn't make it to the shops on Boxing Day. The promise of a snuggly sofa, a fluffy-haired boy, a plethora of films and a pint glass of prosecco made braving the sales a feat comparable to walking 'pon hot coals (no idea why I've gone so Dickensian).

I was forced to head into London to return some bits a week later, but the sheer amount of people shopping like brain-dead zombies - like those bumbling flies that buzz around lethargically, flying into the wall, sitting on the kitchen worktop ignoring your frantic arm-waving to get it out of the way, a pathetic fly annoying every human in the vicinity - was too much. After the millionth person bumped into me, offering a weak 'srrrry' by way of apology I'd had enough and elbowed my way onto the Central Line.

Back in the peaceful surroundings of Essex, I took my coat to the local New Look.

I went up to the till, clutching the faulty coat nervously. I had an explanation ready. The email was ready on my phone in case the tillwoman refused. My bank statement showed the price paid. A woman approached.

"Hiya, how can I help?" she said
"I'd, er, I'd like to return this coat please," I stuttered nervously.
"Okay, can I 'av your receipt and I'll get that refunded." She held her hand out in expectation.
"Well," I handed my bank statement over, "I don't have the receipt. But it's faulty. Look at the stitching!"
I took the coat out of the bag and showed her the threads that had frayed. "Also, look at the pocket."
"Yeah, the pockets are stitched up..."
"No no, I know that," I said, a little annoyed. I know I look 13, but my 28 years on the planet has given me enough knowledge to know pockets are always stitched together. "It's come away at the lining."
She looked at me, looked at the coat, and back at me.
"I'll have to check with my manager, sorry."
The manager came over, with all her authoritative glory, and tillwoman explained.
"Right." She shrugged, looked over the coat and at my statement. "So, we'll just have to refund it then, won't we."
Tillwoman looked for confirmation, the manager nodded and went back to the shop floor.

My card was processed, the return receipt stapled to my bank statement, and I left with the promise £30 would be refunded in about 5 days and no coat. So, it seems the saga still carries on...