sunday life: my case against shopping*

This week I don’t buy style


Bless me father, for it has been nine weeks since my last resentful, unsatisfying and agitated jaunt to the gaudily adorned shrine that is my local shopping mall. Indeed, it’s been nine weeks since I’ve bought anything, apart from food, petrol and cotton buds.

While I’m confessing, I should point out this is not unusual for me. A while back I wrote in this magazine about going for 279 days without shopping for clothing.  Not even knickers. I did a four-month stint more recently. I know this because my accountant called to tell me, somewhat perplexed. “So what do you actually wear?”

It’s not that I set out to make a point (although I do have a robust anti-consumerist streak). It’s more that as weekends roll around I “give myself permission” not to spend my Saturday looking for the perfect flat-heeled patent leather riding boot, propelled by the insane idea that said boots will lend gravitas to my identity. I give myself a leave pass from getting bogged down in making yet another bloody decision…under the high-pressure gaze of a commission-based sales assistant.

Which brings me to the contentious tenet of this week’s exploration: when you don’t shop, you have better style.

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