I miss shopping. I don’t get to do it nearly as often as I’d like anymore, what with 2 kids (who’s kidding here, it’s like 14 with Sabrina all on her own) who are decidedly uninterested (unless we’re talking toys), and that pesky economy knocking everything for a loop. Window shopping just doesn’t pack the same punch when you really can’t be buying just one teensy (or not so teensy) thing.
Now, I know your reaction. You’re thinking, Julie, you are the most frugal person on earth, second only to that guy who picks used lottery tickets out of the trash (hey, in his defense, he won a trip to Hawaii out of that endeavor) (yes, I know he was effectively dumpster diving and probably had to clean ketchup off more than a few, and that’s just gross) (not that I’m even considering it) (much). You can’t possible enjoy shopping. Oh, but I do. True, the handing over of the money part I can live without. But shopping is fun.
I’m not talking about routine purchases, like weekly groceries, although that has its moments. This is no set agenda, optimistic investigation of the retail kind. I’m talking Shopping, Capital S and All.
It’s the thrill of the hunt. Whether or not I’m looking for anything in particular, I’ve always got my eye out to find just the perfect thing that day, maybe just the right top to go with my chronically uncoordinate-able (but nonetheless awesome) sage green pants, maybe a tasty treat that I’m craving at that exact moment but didn’t know it until just then, maybe socks that my daughter Cannot. Kick. Off. But that’s only half of the adventure. The key is Cheap.
My love of Cheap (and its best friend, Free) is well documented and widely known (hence, your reaction above). So I can’t just be finding things I’d love to have and to hold. That’s entirely too easy (just open up those peepers and look around, duh). Coolness must be coupled with a fantastic low price, sale, discount, percent off, whatever, to make it a Find. And I take great pride in my stamina to get as many Finds as possible. It’s a game, a search for hidden treasure, a competition against the marketplace, and when you win, it’s a rush.
It doesn’t help that I’m addicted to a little show called What Not to Wear, which, after several episodes becomes a sort of tutorial for the fashion troubled. I find it a challenge to go out and apply their tricks of the trade along with my exaggerated sense of frugality to make me look fabulous and smart. (Yes, I know I’m tilting at windmills here, give me a break.)
When Sammy was a wee little thing and didn’t mind riding in the stroller for an extended period of time, I’d quite often take him to walk around the malls. Hey, it was climate controlled physical activity and a great way to escape the house when the walls started to close in. The boy was a pretty good shopper, too, as long as I had emergency snacks at the ready. He would make faces in the mirrors while I tried on my finds to see if they were indeed the real deal. Whether we came home with anything or not, we had a good time.
It’s harder – actually closer to impossible – to do it with a preschool boy and a toddler who has more energy than a nuclear reactor. When Sammy’s in school, I can strap Sabrina in the stroller and a give it a go, which I’ll certainly do for Christmas purposes. But I’ve gotten out of the habit, which is probably a good thing, for my bank account and my closet.
Still, I miss it. I love the chase, the discovery, the moment when you think Wow, I just found the most amazing steal and it’s perfect for me (or my kid, or my husband, or my mom, or whomever). I am a Shopping Master!
Hey, they don’t call it retail therapy for nothing.
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