I defy classification! (But who am I kidding?)

I defy classification! (But who am I kidding?)

June 15, 2005, 4:51 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I like to think of myself as a one-off: a marketeer’s nightmare. There’s no pigeonholing this one, they’d say, permanent marker poised over flip chart. Early adopter she ain’t. Nor yuppy or dinky. What to do with this woman? Is there no product or service we can reliably say she would want/like?

But who I am kidding?

Some years back, Mr Chick and I were househunting in a groovy-but-not-yet-pricey part of town. Of course, everyone who lives there imagines themselves to be a little cool, a little edgy, and this is doubtless what we imagined qualified us to househunt in the area.

We took a look at the sort of house we saw ourselves living in (three storey refurbished Victorian terrace) and, after being let loose by the estate agent to explore the house on our own, we started ooh-ing and ah-ing with excitement.

‘Oooh, look, honey! They read the New Statesman!’ (read: left-leaning political tendencies)

More excitement when we reviewed their CD collection: a little Britpop, some folky stuff harking back to the 1960s, a dash of cheesy disco tunes and a smattering of classical (basic but well beyond Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’). All in all, it looked frighteningly like OUR music collection.

Their bookshelves were chock full of Rough Guides (read: aspirant independent travelling types) and a healthy mix of the classics (Austen, Dickens, Forster et al) and contemporary quality fiction (Atwood, Roth, Amis etc.). No Wilbur Smith here…

The house had been – to coin Estate Agent Speak – “tastefully refurbished”: original fireplaces and sash windows, but sleek, contemporary kitchen and bathrooms (read: respect for things old but love of modern appliances).

And we couldn’t help but notice the jar of Fairtrade coffee and the box of organic, free range eggs in the cupboard too.

The estate agent returned eager to hear our views on the property.

‘Hmmm, we’re not sure. Can we give it some thought and get back to you?’, Mr Chick mused.

Back in the privacy of our car, we quickly concluded that the house wasn’t for us. The location wasn’t quite right and parking was a problem.

‘But how about we leave them a note, suggest we get together for a drink. I think we could become great friends!’, I joked.

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