I love shopping.
I’ll be the first to admit it – I have a sinful amount of clothes sitting in my closet, in my drawers, on shelves, on the floor.
Yet for some reason, every time I’m in town, I still find myself shopping.
Sometimes browsing, sometimes just having a look – but always on the lookout for THAT elusive piece of clothing that will spin my whole wardrobe on its head, and change everything. I will then be that fashionista. I will finally feel like the glamourous persona I have always wanted to be.
This, of course, is absolute codswallop. Codswallop is not a word I use lightly, or at all for that matter, as it’s a word that seems absolutely ridiculous to me, much like the mindset that we con ourselves into every time we traipse around the high street.
That blazer is going to completely transform all my trousers/skirts/dresses/t-shirts/blouses
Doubtful, my dear – if it did, it would be a snip for €90, and sure, wouldn’t we all have one!
This all came to mind for me today, as I led my fashion-conscious-yet-challenged younger brother around the shops, trying to dress him up to make the most of himself, whilst still trying to stay within his student budget. A tough job, but a cinch for a seasoned fashpert such as myself. As we walked around, I told him the old chestnuts of “don’t just buy those shoes just because they’re a bargain, because if you never wear them then they’re not such a bargain after all” and the other one: “decide what you’re looking for before you hit the shops”. In the meantime, I ended up buying two tops, a dress and a pair of trousers for myself. Which I did not need.
Where do we get this constant compulsion? Is it a female thing? Do the likes of Penneys, Matalan, Forever 21 actually know us better than we know ourselves? Is it the physical act of buying that gives us the adrenaline rush, or is that slinky top really the thing that keeps us going back?
The fact that I am probably subscribed to at least thirty fashion websites that send me daily updates on all of the bargains that I am missing probably isn’t helping any compulsions that may otherwise be content to lay dormant.
I really enjoyed myself today. Not because I went on a spree – it was only a little one… – but because I was helping others buy for themselves.
Which reminds me – I should be on commission in Zara, for the amount of business I’ve accummulated for them at this stage.
I will be starting a clearout this evening in my wardrobe.
Not a job that I relish – it’s one of my pet hates, and I feel so guilty every time for having let the state of it get so bad.
I will be rubbishing all that cannot be salvaged, donating what cannot be sold, and the small remainder shall go on eBay – one man’s rubbish is another man’s treasure and all that.
I shall also, forthwith*, be under a self-imposed clothes^ shopping ban.
I shall check and report any withdrawal symptoms – fever, shakes, etc.
Wish me luck.
Til next time, sayonara.
*For future reference, fancy words such as forthwith, show that I am at this moment, very determined to do as I say.
^ When I say clothes, I do have to remind myself that included in this ban are bags, shoes, accessories. Any loopholes and I’ll be back to square one.