Getting your eyes tested here is strangely relaxing. The optometrist doesn’t treat you like a science experiment. Instead, they chat about your weekend while puffing air into your eyes. Honestly, it’s less invasive than a Zoom call with your boss. And that little machine they look into? It’s basically a tiny spaceship for your face.
I half-expected them to say, “You’ve got the eyes of a 35-year-old who reads in the dark.” But nope—just a gentle nudge to wear my glasses more. The whole thing took less than twenty minutes. That’s faster than queuing for a Pret sandwich at lunch.
The frame graveyard (and your new best friend)
The frame selection is like a candy shop for adults. You’ve got the thin metal ones that say, “I read books in cafes,” and the chunky plastic ones that scream, “I’m artistic but I also pay my bills.” I tried on a pair of tortoiseshell frames that made me look like a friendly librarian. My partner said I looked like a geography teacher from 1998. Sold.
There’s a whole section for “bargain bin” glasses that are perfectly fine. They’re like the frozen pizza of eyewear—cheap, reliable, and nobody judges you for it. I grabbed a backup pair for £19 and felt like I’d won the lottery.
