A Prestige Purchase
Forget fine-detailed antique silk carpets from Persia, painstakenly hand-woven with thousand of knots per inch. Cast aside the richly-coloured tribal rugs from Afghanistan, with vibrant geometric designs.
Instead, consider this: from the most luridly fluoro-lit discount store in the tacky heart of Satwa, displayed alongside the cluttered plastic finery of throwaway made-in-China tat, the World's Most Marvellous Mat.
Machine-processed of the purest nylon in some sweatshop in Asia, colours exquisitely bland, adorned with the badly-pixellated image of a 30-years-younger Sheikh Zayed - hand raised in greeting, smile toothy and wide - surely only this is fit to grace the walls of Flat 103, Depths of Bur Dubai. "Sixty dirhams ma'am." But he accepts fifty.
And Sheikh Zayed, in all his spectackular glory, arrives home at last.
Instead, consider this: from the most luridly fluoro-lit discount store in the tacky heart of Satwa, displayed alongside the cluttered plastic finery of throwaway made-in-China tat, the World's Most Marvellous Mat.
Machine-processed of the purest nylon in some sweatshop in Asia, colours exquisitely bland, adorned with the badly-pixellated image of a 30-years-younger Sheikh Zayed - hand raised in greeting, smile toothy and wide - surely only this is fit to grace the walls of Flat 103, Depths of Bur Dubai. "Sixty dirhams ma'am." But he accepts fifty.
And Sheikh Zayed, in all his spectackular glory, arrives home at last.
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