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.  

Ruby Slippers

I am in the midst of some serious work, preparing thirty young men for what many consider to be the most important examination of their young lives.  And yet, I cannot concentrate.  Sure, it could have something to do with the fact that at 1:30pm I have already downed three bottles of Hoegaarden, but I actually believe it has more to do with the fashion fever that descends on Melbourne this time every year. 

I have a confession to make.  This teacher and mother is a complete and utter shop-a-holic.  I have the capacity to spend a mortgage repayment on a handbag and not only not think twice about it, but also rationally and logically (in my world) justify it.  And so, in my drunken haze, and to avoid marking one more Language Analysis, I present you with the most recent (and possibly entirely unnecessary purchases) of the Neighbour's Wife.



An uber-cute Spencer & Rutherford number.  Great size and awesome summer colours.



I Love Billy
Great price ($79.95) and too cute.  Not to mention ultra-comfy.

Nine West
 I love orange! 
Thick elastic bands also means summer comfort when your feet start to swell.



Wittner.
I admit it, I did not need these.  But the colour!  It's like having your feet wrapped in a Tiffany's box.

And so, while the truly fashionable and fabulous get to sip Moet and watch the pretty horses (and I don't mean SJP) run by, I sit, still in my pyjamas, listening to the musical wonder that is the Dora the Explorer theme song and trying to explain via email why with less that 48 hours to go to the exam, it's really worth starting to pay attention, and dream about all the chic places I can wear my new purchases.

Somehow, I don't the the English exam will cut it.