Author Sophie Kinsella once said: “I love new clothes. If everyone could just wear new clothes everyday, I reckon depression wouldn’t exist anymore”. In my world, that would be true. I wouldn’t consider myself an addict, and I’m certainly not floundering in any form of debt. Therefore the way I see it, a little shopping never hurt anyone. However, according to a mature, older, financially knowledgeable boyfriend of mine, my outlook on money, saving, spending, and what I consider to be necessities is completely infantile and not to mention unnecessary. And so I’ve developed my own confessions of a shopaholic.
For years now I’ve kind of operated under an informal shopping cycle—a bit like a farmer’s crop rotation system. Except, instead of wheat, maize, barley, and fallow, mine pretty much goes clothes, makeup, shoes, and clothes (I don’t bother with fallow). Shopping is actually very similar to faming a field. You can’t keep buying the same thing; you have to have a bit of variety. Otherwise you get bored and stop enjoying yourself. If my boyfriend wins this battle, I will stop enjoying myself.
It’s understandable that my shopping habits have been learned from my mother. After all, any psychologist will say that a learned behavior is a behavior that was observed by an individual, which they found to be beneficial to them in some way. In my case, I find shopping to be very beneficial. I’ve been shopping as long as I could remember. As an adolescent I learned my left from my right by having my mom direct me as to which way to turn off the escalator in the mall. I learned percentages by calculating sales on items. If there’s anything my mother taught me, it was to always look for a good sale. At least I can say I’ve actually learned something from this entire experience.
Evenings, even on schools nights, were spent at Sterns, until they merged with Macy’s. The only real difference that occurred is that now, my mother is a “valued customer” of Macy’s instead of Sterns. As I grew older the shopping events became almost a tradition. Every Saturday was spent shopping with my mom and younger sister. My sister and I however, were not bratty, little, spoiled girls by any means. We were not entitled to everything in the store that we wanted, however we did enjoy ourselves most of the time. It was mainly the bonding that we enjoyed; the “girls day out” spent together browsing around our favorite stores.
As I got older, I stopped needing my mom in order to go shopping. Of course we still went together, although now I was an independent shopper—I had a job. I started working at the age of fifteen. I landed a seasonal office position at our township municipal building making way more than the average fifteen year-old. What was there not to love? I worked with what I considered to be a mature, older crowd, and earned more money than I even knew what to do with. Sure, and typical fifteen year-old would be depressed that their entire summer weekdays were spent inside an office instead of at the beach, but I took a different viewpoint. My weekends were spent lying by the pool, while my weeknights could be spent spending my own money that I had earned independently. It was truly the best of both worlds. My love for shopping grew as my knowledge about different brands that I had not previously been exposed to expanded. On my own I was buying my own Dooney & BourkeÔ and CoachÔ handbags. I wasn’t buying my makeup at Wal-MartÔ anymore, but instead having my makeup done by a professional at Merle NormanÔ. Over the years, my job got even better as each summer I would get a raise when the fiscal year began. I kept my job until I was twenty years old, each summer earning more and more.
Finally, we arrive at confession time. This is the part of the story I try to repress—the story that I always hope my parents will forget when they’ve had too much to drink at Christmas dinner while in the presence of my boyfriend and decide to ramble about all the so-called hilarious mistakes I’ve made growing up. Entering my freshman year of college my parents decided to give me my first credit card in hopes I would use it for emergencies only. My emergency turned into the fact that college was expensive, and I’m not referring to housing and books, I’m referring to dining out, paying upper classmen to buy alcohol, and taking trips with my roommates into the city. I was probably the best roommate to have because of the fact that I treated my equally broke roommates to everything including dinner in New York and buying myself the latest Dooney & BourkeÔ handbag that of course, I had to have! My major dilemma was that I was used to being taken care of while living at home. I never needed to save the money I made over the summer because my parents would buy me whatever clothes I needed, and I never had to pay for food because it was already prepared for me when I came home from school. Also, I had no spare time during the school year to go shopping or treat my friends to dinner—I was constantly preoccupied with extracurricular activities like cheerleading and dance. Now everything was gone, my dance lessons, my cheerleading practice, my home-cooked meals, my parents’ support, and all my money. Ultimately, my parents cut up the credit card they had given me. It was a tough lesson for me on the definition of a true emergency.
The second half of my freshman went a lot smoother as I finally upgraded to become an eligible shopper—I got a job. I never thought I would be able to work and go to school at the same time. Although my idea may make me sound lazy, I wasn’t. I was truly focused on becoming accustomed to the lifestyle of college, which included no excuses for late homework, and a lot of studying—it’s a competitive world out there! I had assumed I would just go college during the school year and work during the summer, however, after my experience during the first half of the year I learned that my idea was not plausible. Working while going to school gave me the same freedom I felt when I first began my office job when I was fifteen. Although waitressing was not an easy job, standing on your feet, dealing with irritable, hungry customers, and serving kids late at night who snub you on your tip, it overall was fast cash, which was exactly what I needed to fill my shopping void.
I began to take the advice of my mother and shop especially whenever there was a sale. There’s nothing wrong with buying something that’s name brand, but the beauty of a sale is that you can buy two name brand items instead of just one! It’s a win-win situation. Between working, and shopping for on sale items, I managed to save enough money that I was able to afford to go to Florida after the school year ended with all of my roommates (the trip to Florida however was not on me this time). I ended up quitting my waitressing job (things just didn’t seem to work out). I was anxious however to return to my secure summer job at the municipal building; back to my routine of making money during the week, spending it on the weekends, and being surround with level-headed adults. My goal for this summer however was going to be to save as much money as possible so that I wouldn’t have to work when I went back to school, and yet still have enough spending money to last me throughout the school year. I realized how challenging my plan was going to be when I retuned to work and learned that no one would be receiving a raise of any sorts once the fiscal year began due to issues with the budget. I quickly realized that I would have to cut back some of my spending over the summer in order for my plan to work. “Cut back my spending?!” I though to myself. “Less shopping?!” What a nightmare.
