As the opening approaches of the first Primark in the US, our friends on the other side of the Atlantic will start to hear rumours about the low prices. Can it really be true that you can go in with $30 and come out with a pair of jeans, an adorable summer dress, a statement necklace and a 6-pack of jazzy socks? We haven't got price confirmation on that but it sounds plausible.

The good times are about to roll. And you, my American buddy, are going to be like this – except instead of fifties, they're just single dollars:

Your time has come: prepare to be a baller.

Not only that, but you'll be impressed by the haul you can find at Primark. There are clothes so youthful that they don't remember the 20th century, and so timely that they'll be out of fashion by the time you reach the fitting room. Behold, the ultimate One Direction T-shirt:

100% cotton, 100% their faces, 100% of the time.

Sold on the hype, you decide you're definitely going to snap up some bargains on the first day. No other shopper will be getting the better of you – you've got a small amount of cash in your pocket and you're not leaving until you've milked every last bargain out of it.

When the doors open, you realise you may have underestimated the situation. There's an actual stampede, during which you lose both a toenail and your dignity.

Low-cost fashion makes people surprisingly aggressive, it turns out. A lady who seemed perfectly civilised before the store opened has now jabbed you in the boob with her elbow to stop you reaching the $5 swimwear rail before her.

You're overwhelmed by the choice. There's so much stuff. So very much. You were expecting something like Forever 21, but this is like if Forever 21 had a nervous breakdown.

The madness is contagious – you find yourself blindly stuffing armfuls of clothes into a basket. Who cares if you never wear leggings? These ones are in a hypnotic neon print and they cost, like, a ha'penny.

All the rules that have been holding society together for the last few centuries are breaking down around you. People are hurling discarded clothes onto the floor and someone is changing a baby's nappy – sorry, diaper – between two rails of $15 palazzo pants.

Feeling sweaty and emotionally drained, you make your way towards the fitting room. Approximately 4000 other shoppers have got there first. You decide that at these prices, you can take a chance and just head for the till.

A mere twenty minutes of queuing later, you're out the door. In your pocket, a few remaining dollars. In your arms, an entire new wardrobe.

Something very special has happened today: you have become a Primark shopper. Before you know it, you'll start to refer to your friend who splashes out on Topshop as 'the Dowager'. You'll learn how to communicate stunned joy with the words 'It was ten dollars!', accompanied by a very wide-eyed facial expression. And when you field a compliment about your shoes, you'll know that the correct, and ever-so-slightly smug response is: 'Thanks – they're Primani, darling.'  

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