I started writing this review of the Silver Cross Zest pushchair a few weeks after we bought it. That was almost five months ago. Five months!
Back then, I wasn’t bowled over by the Zest.
However, due to my complete inefficiency in writing and posting, I feel that we’ve been able to give the Zest a really thorough testing. We’ve given it a chance; it’s had time to impress us and, despite initial reservations, we’ve come round to its flaws.
Some might say there’s a life lesson there.
We were in the market for a new buggy earlier this year. We had a weekend trip to London coming up, and needed something that would be easy to cart from train to tube etc. (Up until that point, we’d been using Ted’s first pram/buggy, the Mamas and Papas Urbo2.)
The fact that the London visit was looming forced me to make a new buggy purchase relatively quickly. Normally I’m paralysed with decision-making anxiety, and subsequent indecision, before making this kind of choice. WHAT IF I PICK THE WRONG ONE? I must go back and read 482 more reviews just in case. I dread to think how many prams I looked at before Ted was born.
Anyway, this time around I only looked at 479 reviews, ho ho, and we went for the Zest. It had 10% off and came with a free bag to carry it in, which swung it. The purchase I mean, not the buggy. I’m not sure it’s *that* light but perhaps that’s another test for another day.
Once it arrived, I was immediately very taken with the Zest’s subtle elephant print on the hood (because that’s what’s important when buying a buggy….).
And I enjoyed how compact and light it was compared to the Urbo2, once I’d got used to popping it up and down.
But could I get on with the straps on the Zest? No. I could not.
A Strapping Problem?
God, those straps. I’m not sure if it’s common to have these sorts of straps on buggies – where there are two parts on either side, and you have to get the two on each side to fit together before getting all four straps to click into the central lock at the same time. Just typing that is frustrating me, and I think the straps very nearly sent me mad on a couple of occasions. Is strap-related therapy a thing? Or something else entirely, maybe.
I even penned a little poem about how the straps were causing me bother, such was the extent of my strap-related upset. I’ll put it at the end of this piece, to save us all some embarrassment right now.
BUT. Five months later, I bloomin’ love those straps. Regular readers – hi mum – might recall how Ted also loves those straps.
Playing with the straps on his buggy is probably Ted’s favourite thing, alongside eating broccoli and pressing the button on his Old McDonald Had A Farm musical book 262 times a day. Those straps have given Ted lots of entertainment – I was going to write ‘hours of entertainment’ but then realised it might sound like the straps are all we give him to play with; PLEASE NOTE HE DOES HAVE TOYS – and yes, they’ve allowed me to have a cup of tea/diet Coke in peace every so often.
SO THANK YOU SILVER CROSS ZEST WITH YOUR SLIGHTLY INFURIATING STRAPS. I’ve totally got used to them now anyway.
Five Months On – A Very Fair Review
Pros of the Silver Cross Zest
So there you have it. A very fair review of the Silver Cross Zest.
And here, as promised, is my poem. Yes I’m aware it’s weird that I wrote a poem about a buggy. And remember that my feelings changed somewhat. Moral of the story: don’t make snap judgements, kids.
Oh Silver, a poem by Laura O’Donnell
Silver Cross Zest
You could be
Could be the best
Pushchair in the land
(Your snazzy elephant print is *insert the A-OK emoji here*)
you make me Cross
Once to the point
Where I could’ve gladly tossed
You out of the front door
(Not while Ted was in it, please note.)
It’s akin to a postage stamp
It’s not surprising
That I have got cramp
From carting stuff on my back
(And not in your stamp sized basket)
Your straps, though
They’re the fellas
To make me jealous
Of anyone with another pushchair
(That doesn’t have very difficult-to-fasten straps)
You look so smart
And you’re light as a feather
Ted seems to approve
And sleeps in you in all weather(s)
It’s just your stupid straps that let you down
(And your basket could do to be a bit bigger)
Hello, I'm Laura. I write about parenting, life, style, building a business and finding success on your own terms.
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