Wimbledon attendees are forking out huge sums of money for food and merchandise
Getting into Wimbledon in the first place is pricey enough. But then you have to keep yourself fed. And hoo boy, it will cost you.
The merchandise shop underneath Wimbledon’s Centre Court is an introvert’s nightmare.
Being inside it is like travelling on London’s notoriously packed Jubilee Line at peak hour, except everyone is trying to move to the other end of the carriage, and do complex sums in their heads, and corral agitated children. You forfeit any concept of personal space the moment you enter.
The main stress, though, is financial. So many fetching outfits, so few pounds to spare. For all its charms, and there are many, Wimbledon is poison for your bank account.
You can get your classic strawberries and cream for a reasonable £2.50 ($4.70) – the iconic item’s price has been frozen for a decade now, so it’s just about the only thing in Britain that hasn’t suffered catastrophic inflation – but anything else you find around the grounds will set you back no small amount of money.
Let’s start with the merch. Should you wish to save cash, there are the usual random, small fry items like candles, oven mitts and pins available for relatively modest prices. The stylish Wimbledon umbrella is almost a necessity as you guard against the erratic weather.
But I assume you are seeking a genuinely cool souvenir, not a forgettable curio.
Actually, first things first: you need something in which to carry said souvenir. Why not a Wimbledon-branded duffel bag, with a nice leather handle? That’ll be $370 please.
Now we fill the bag with goodies. Gentlemen, on the more affordable end of the clothing line you’ll find a T-shirt with the Wimbledon logo for $75, various performance shirts for between $85 and $95, shorts for $105, trackpants for $130, and a classy Oxford shirt for $160.
Ladies, you have the same basic prices, but with the addition of a cute tennis skort for $105.
Deeper in the shop, we discover the really nice stuff, most of it produced by a partnership with Polo Ralph Lauren.
For example, despite London’s reputation, when the rain clears you do risk copping some sun on the outside courts. Protect yourself with a chino cap for ... $150. Yes yes, that seems steep, but skin cancer would be worse!
The same price will get you more glamorous versions of the T-shirts mentioned above.
Want to dress like a Wimbledon ball boy? Sure, why not. You’ll find the shorts for $265, and the jacket for $340.
Normal polo shirts are $315; linen shirts $295; a pullover jumper $390; a fleece cardigan $415. That twee tie the male umpires wear is $220 (I don’t buy enough ties to know for sure whether that is reasonable or outrageous, but I have my suspicions).
My personal favourite item is a nondescript, grey, oversized hoodie, which will cost you $840. The better part of a thousand Australian dollars! For a hoodie! Hoo boy.
And if you feel the aforementioned duffel bag is too cheap, consider shelling out $495 for a Wimbledon-branded backpack.
Women, your Ralph Lauren products include a cropped T-shirt for $200 (that rises to an eye-watering $505 if you pick the option with mesh and a hood), a fancier type of skort for $340, a sleeveless tennis dress for $340, a polo dress for $390, a belted cotton dress for $475, and a bomber jacket for $505.
Don’t worry, the prices go higher still. Some highlights: a cricket jumper for $580 and the twill coat worn by female umpires, which is – brace yourself – $1,050. Who has that kind of money available at all, let alone to cosplay as an umpire? Presumably the British aristocracy.
I would note that women already have a lower average lifetime income, and fewer savings for retirement, than men. That’s before the Wimbledon price gap bleeds them further. The positive is that most of these clothes will make you look like Kate Middleton.
Let’s move on to the more fleeting pleasures of the Wimbledon experience: food and drink. As mentioned earlier, you can eat on a perfectly reasonable budget here, provided you’re able to sustain yourself on a diet that consists entirely of strawberries and cream. But sometimes the tongue yearns for something savoury.
The average visitor to the All England Club will scrounge their food from the cafeteria-like services dotted around the grounds, which have suitably British names like the “Tea Lawn Larder”, “Parkside Kitchen” and “Walled Garden Food Market”.
The latter features meals for a little over $20. There’s a crispy chicken burger, a cheeseburger, cauliflower buffalo wings and a teriyaki chicken bowl, among other options.
Around the other side of Centre Court is a slightly fancier vendor, where you can get a smoked haddock fishcake with mussels and white wine sauce for $34. Among the other dishes at that price point – and yes, I would go so far as to call them dishes now – are Aubergine and red pepper parmigiana, ricotta and oregano meatballs and seared mackerel.
The same place sells scrumptious desserts like a lemon tart, a cherry and almond frangipane tart or a slice of flourless chocolate cake, all of which cost $14.
It’s flanked by a champagne bar, and I’m sorry to say, some of the booze gets pricey. A single, paltry glass of Lanson Le Rose Brut is $36. Or you can ditch your delusions about drinking in moderation and grab a bottle of the stuff for $180 (an even more expensive alternative comes in at $208).
Better to return to one of the cafeterias, where your money will go further. At The Larder you can buy a sausage roll for $9, a Cornish pasty for $12, or a sandwich picnic box for $23, and supplement it with a cup of alcohol for $18.
Alternatively, you can take the option I did today: buy a giant, fatty, probably cancer-inducing $14 hot dog and take it to The Hill, eating in front of the big screens, which show the action on the two main courts.
Make it feel even more British with a glass of Pimm’s ($21 for a reusable glass), or a jug of the stuff for $62. There’s a convenient stand selling it at the top of The Hill.
Of course, some folks boast a refined palate, and for them, a humble picnic will not do. That’s where the fine dining venues, most limited to private hospitality areas, come in.
At Centenary Seafood, for example the well-to-do can gorge on 30 grams of Exmoor caviar for $57, or order an entire seafood plate for $133 (it’s meant to be shared).
One does wonder why anybody would bother to come to Wimbledon, only to spend their time shut up in a restaurant. Perhaps they’re the same people paying $800 for a hoodie.
Twitter: @SamClench
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