The Glass House is appropriately named. It's one of those stores that while I was in, it actually felt like a glass house. I was pretty much afraid to pick anything up in case I got yelled at by the rather unpleasant shop assistant whose eyes I could feel on me at all times. I had to wonder if my favourite hoodie I was wearing made me look like a delinquent or something, because I was definately not made to feel welcome in this store. Its evidently aimed at the older women sort of market, so I probably wasn't their ideal sort of customer anyway.
It's one of those little stores like you can find anywhere else, filled with knick knacks and home-wares, some jewellery and I guess helpful and pretty stuff, if you can look past the customer service or lack thereof.
They stocked some really nice aprons actually that I was tempted to get for my mother, but had to walk out empty handed because it was just getting too awkward in there.
To the dour shop assistant: a smile wouldn't really go astray love! read more