Want, the urge for the new, the different and especially the youth-granting is the gas of the still-sputtering retail engine. We are sold by appealing to desire, and also by persuading us that we have pressing, unfulfilled needs.
Removed, mostly, from the workplace fashion show, I'm no longer a Good Little Consumer, needing so little– but I can still be lured by desire, by the beautiful and unusual. And sometimes by the sale.
|Oooh, I envied her bag!|
But mostly, I thought, Where do you put it? What did you do with the last four dresses/two bags/antique finials you bought just months ago? Do you use all this?
As they say in AA, when you point a finger at someone, there are four pointing back at you. (If you try it, there are in fact three–but you get their drift.)
I donated two bags of items to charity and then returned to self-righteously raising my eyebrows.
|Twig Hoops by Red Sofa|
a) the mysterious disappearance of a favourite earring
b) the supreme stupidity of leaving two (!) necklaces on the hook of a change room in a store.
I was disappointed that someone didn't turn them in to security; fortunately, the jeweler could make replacements.
Joanna of Red Sofa said, "I'm sorry you had to spend this money and not get anything new", but sometimes what we want most is what we have, or had until a moment puffs it away. So much in life is gone for good, once it leaves, and the material is the least important of those losses.
I saw why, when my mother died, I found, among new clothes with the tags still on, soft handkerchiefs embroidered in her maiden-name monogram and a silk muffler autographed by friends in Dad's graduating class. The most-cherished possessions are not necessarily the newest.
"I don’t really like the term shopaholic. I can’t help but think of cute things, like pink dresses, dainty handbags and 6 inch high heels, none of which I own myself.
The name shopaholic has also been tied to humorous tales of people falling into debt in funny ways and then selling their things and living happily ever after- all while wearing adorable cardigans, name brand skinny jeans and Jimmy Choo pumps. Again, it’s not real or at least, it’s not my reality."
And I admit I've been an Enabler, picking up the odd jumble-sale item ("This will be perfect on Lady T.") and enthusiastically admiring her finds. I realize my attitude of, Why not? She'll look so pretty in that! is actually not helping her. Fingers are pointing back at me, but now, knowing her resolve, I'm cleaning up my act.
Have you any advice for beating a shopping habit?