Skip to main content

Dubai stereotypes: The Discount Diva

I did quite a few posts for my Dubai Stereotypes series last year, which you all seemed to like as I've had a number of requests for more, more, more! So, back by popular demand...

THE DUBAI DISCOUNT DIVA (aka The Voucher Vulture)
A close relation of the global Bargainista movement, The Dubai Discount Diva (aka DDD) is alive and thriving  in the UAE.

Most often found lazily flicking through her dog-eared copy of The Entertainer, the DDD is a shameless cutter-outer of all kinds of coupons. Her handbag is super-sized (Karama, obv) so she can lug about her cross-referenced, colour coded concertina file stuffed with vouchers of all shapes and sizes - she never, ever leaves the house without it.

DDDs social life is dominated by discounts. With mornings spent with like-minded friends who choose their brunch or spa venues according to BOGOF deals, afternoons at play areas or craft shops with voucher-friendly activities, and evenings spent at various ladies night venues across Dubai (The Westin being an especial favorite), drinking free 'bubbly grape' and marveling at the lithe legs of girls/ hookers at least twenty years younger than herself. Now, if only she could find a voucher for Botox...

Most likely to say: "Anyone got a spare Wild Wadi two-for-one? I'll swap you a Dreamland."
Least likely to say: "I'm off for lunch at the Burj Al Arab...hang the expense!"

Comments

Sarah said…
oh no i'm a stereotype! thanks for this, best laugh i've had all day.

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…

Champix

Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …