The Sunglass Hut

I have a confession to make.
I’m addicted to sunglasses.
Aviators, Wayfarers, sporty and shiny. Whether matte black or mirrored, they’ve all found a way onto my face.
A girlfriend once asked me why I would need so many pairs, since I have but one face. I said nothing. I merely gazed at her shoe rack. Then she pointed at my sneakers lined up by the door. I lost the moral high ground.
I often wind up at this Sunglass Hut on my way home from work, browsing the affordable luxuries when a trip to Holt Renfrew seems improbable. A few pairs have found their way home with me.
Staff are polite, and best of all, leave you alone while you browse.
The return policy (for the occasional misfire) is plenty fair. I shamefully admit to having worn a pair home, then decided not to tax my Visa quite so heavily.
The lack of backstock makes less sense. I’d rather have a pair that has yet to be tried on.
Most baffling, the store is chronically understaffed-​if I happen by over lunch I’d rather not come across an empty store front and a «back in 5 Minutes» sign.