Category: New Departments

Gentle patrons, the Millinery Counter on the Third Floor is delighted to announce the arrival of the Pillbox Collar: a small round hat that sits atop the neck, tied with a bow, and designed to be worn at an angle of no less than thirty degrees.

Available in navy, claret, and a shade called Wilted Violet, each is stitched by hand by Miss Dorothea Needle, who has not slept since Friday. Prices begin at 8 treats. Fitting is by appointment, and cats are advised that the hat will be removed within four minutes. This is not a defect. It is a tradition. And Miss Needle has been informed that she may now have a nap.

Behold, upon a dais draped in crimson velvet, the Reclining Throne, now available in the Furniture Hall. Constructed from walnut and upholstered in a sumptuous plum fabric, it tilts to seven positions and features a hidden drawer for treats, a cup holder for milk, and a small brass plaque reading ‘Do Not Disturb Me’.

The Throne was commissioned by an anonymous lady cat in Mayfair who demanded ‘a chair that would hold her disappointment’. It is priced at 340 treats, with an additional 15 for delivery by four footmen. Patrons may test the throne for ten minutes, though Sir Reginald has been observed testing it for ten hours.

Upon the Fourth Floor, the Toy Department is aglow. Mr. Percival Pennywhistle, Toymaster, has unpacked seven hundred feathered wands, three hundred clockwork mice, and a rocking horse of such improbable size that it requires its own staircase.

The Toy Department’s pride this season is the Mechanical Mouse Number 9, which scuttles for exactly eleven seconds before expiring with a faint, apologetic click. It is priced at 7 treats and has a waiting list. Children and kittens are welcome to view the display. Adults are also welcome, though they must pretend they are buying for someone else.

It is my solemn duty to announce that the Haberdashery Hall now boasts a Ribbon Wall of such dazzling proportions that a visiting aunt was seen to faint. Over three hundred spools hang from brass rails, in colours from Brilliant Mackerel to Doleful Plum.

Mr. Hargreaves, our Head of Haberdashery, will cut any length you desire, measured with a ruler he calls ‘Dorothy’. Please note that ribbon dangled in front of a cat is, regrettably, a recipe for chaos, and the store will not be held liable for tangles, knots, or the eleven minutes Mr. Hargreaves spent on Tuesday trapped in a bow.

Gather in, if you please, and mind the rug. On the Second Floor, beneath a chandelier of some 340 crystals, we are proud to unveil the Great Cushion Gallery: a hall of two hundred and twelve cushions, arranged by firmness, fragrance, and historical significance.

Visitors may recline upon any specimen for up to four minutes, after which a gentleman in white gloves will say ‘I beg your pardon’ and rattle a small bell. The finest exhibit is the Tuftington Pouffe, stuffed in 1911 with the hair of eleven distinguished uncles. It is not for sale. It is, however, available to sit upon, at 3 treats per hour.