A-Ha Moment

Yesterday I had what Oprah would call an "a-ha moment".  Well, to be completely honest, it was more of an, "Oh my god, I am so pathetic" moment.  I sat in front of Tiffany's (normally a space of serenity) and cried.  My credit card had been declined by a smarmy, leggy salesgirl.  I had overdrawn the family savings account by $99.  I was metaphorically smacked in the face by the very sad fact that my shopping is no longer the occasional dose of retail therapy.  It is a full blown addiction.

I am Victor Gruen's dream.  I enter a shopping centre and the rest of the world melts away.  Faced with the sparkling lights and the shiny, stylish window displays, I can no longer recall the details of what I was meant to be doing that day.  Clearly I can also no longer remember the fact that I have no money.  Time itself stands still.  The thrill of a new purchase is an orgasm.  Better than an orgasm.  It gives you a high, a thrill nothing else can.  And then there is the follow-up, the unpacking of the item once you get home.  I used to think that I was the only one who relished this particular moment, but thanks to the wonders of You Tube, I have discovered that the joy of 'unboxing' is not something I alone revel in.  The sound of that tissue paper, the decision of where in your wardrobe you will hang your new treasure, the first time time you wear it...  There truly is nothing in the world quite like it.

As my friend and fellow shopping enthusiast Design Queen has commented, "You have champagne taste".  She's right.  Unfortunately I have a cask wine budget.  I am an avid reader of 'Vogue' and 'Harper's Bazaar'.  I routinely fantasise about buying a $6000 Prada coat, so paying $350 for one at Veronika Maine one seems frugal, insignificant even.  I mean, seriously, how is $350 going to buy us a bigger house, or a family holiday?  So why not purchase myself a little fleeting joy?



Prada Cotton Blend Coat

But I do not want to be that woman.  I do not want to be the woman who ends up putting her family in so much debt, that they lose the house and are compelled to live in their car - especially since my husband's automobile of choice is a 1998 Mitsubishi Magna.
 
After my cry-fest in front of the world's most famous jewellery store, I came home and handed over my visa and store cards to a quietly frustrated husband.  This morning I added up all that I have spent since April 2011 on my addiction.  The final tally ladies and gents (minus cosmetics, skin care, undies, stockings, bras, the occasional accessory and other 'necessities') is.... wait for it... $5,357.27.  And while I internally excuse myself, knowing full well that my final count is less than the cost of that incredibly cute Prada coat, I also acknowledge that the real cost of my spending is far too great.

While I can pardon myself, blaming an obese mother who could not understand how elastic-waisted jeans never did anything for an adolescent girl's social status, the stark reality is I need to stop.  It's going to be a challenge to be a fashion-obsessed non-shopper and honestly, I am not convinced I can do it, but I am convinced that I need to try.

And so, I will attempt to get to December 31st, 2011 without buying any clothing or shoes for myself.  As any addict knows, the only way to kick the habit is to tackle it one day at a time.  Eight weeks seems achievable.  Besides, Boxing Day sales were never really my scene.