I was about thirteen years old my mother and father let me go to the mall (shopping centre) in America for the first time alone with my girlfriends. It was a big event (try not to laugh all you city ladies who were running around the streets of London at ten years of age). I remember vividly walking into Gap and buying my very first pair of bootcut dark denim jeans that I had saved for with babysitting money for weeks. What a thrill it was to select an item all on my own for which I paid with five dollar bills from my velcro closure pink wallet. Of course more pleasure is now derived from a handsome man sliding his shiny plastic card across the counter to pay for my purchases but that is another blog entirely. The point I am making here is that your first shopping experience, for girls at least, is one that you carry with you for the rest of your life no matter if it occurs at Topshop or Louis Vuitton.So as I walked into what can only be described as a retail mecca this evening I couldn't help but wonder for whom this place would hold a first and how it would mold the young minds of future shopaholics. Of course I am speaking of London's newest shopping arena, Westfield. It is almost exactly like an American mall only five times the size. There are over 275 stores, 40 luxury brand outlets and 50 places to eat.

My first impression went something like this, and yes I did actually say this out loud, "someone watched Pinnochio way too much as a small child". No kidding, Westfield is a shopper's "pleasure island". I was sure one of the shop assistants would offer me a special brew and I would go home with a few shopping bags, a full stomach and a donkey's tale. Every single store was larger than life and screaming out for attention. I had an instant headache. I didn't know whether to turn left or right or whether running might somehow be a better solution.
Let's keep in mind that my visit occured on a Monday evening. I expected the place to be deserted and recovering from a weekend of visitors. But alas, it was teemimg and not just

I had a facial at Malika scheduled so I got to Westfield at 6pm to poke around a bit before
settling into a quiet candlelit room to rejuvenate my mind, body and pollution filthy face (according to the facialist). One hour isn't enough to cover one corridor so this isn't an accurate review. I was in with the facialist for two hours of "me" time which left no time for more self indulgence afterwards. But I must mention that I love that all the stores at Westfield stay open until 9pm and the restaurants until midnight. Perfect for those horrible moments when you realize you have forgotten a birthday gift and every other shop in London closes at 7pm on a weeknight.So what's the verdict? I believe this says it all- I have typed a return visit for this weekend into my blackberry's calendar. You might not hear from me next week as there is a good chance my bank manager will have me locked away for maxing out all credit cards in my name.

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