A Litte Retail Therapy

“Honestly, shopping beats therapy anytime. It costs the same, and you get a dress out of it.”

--Sophie Kinsella

OK, right up front, here’s the content warning. I’m going to talk about superficial fluff this week, like shopping, handbags, shoes and mothering memories. The world is pretty scary right now. There’s just so much heavy stuff out there. It all matters, no question, and everyone needs to stay informed, stay active, and do their part to make it a better place. There just has to be something utterly frivolous from time to time, and this week is it.

It all started with a handbag. Usually, I’m more of a shoe girl, but recently, the bags are catching my eye. Anything by Michael Kors sends me into retail orbit. It’s possible it’s an obsession. There’s a term in marketing called “Brand fan.” I’m the ultimate Michael Kors fan. I’m also a fan of eating food and paying bills, so I own precisely one bag by Michael Kors. Mr. Kors, if you are reading this, could you maybe take it down a notch on the bags? Give a girl a break. Well, actually, never mind. You're worth it, darling.

 It started innocently enough, I was browsing online, looking at clothes, bags, shoes, etc. that are definitely out of my reach, but hey, it’s free to look. And then I saw Whitney. Yes, some of the handbags have names. I am filing that away in my fashion tidbits databank because I need Cliff Notes for anything that involves clothing, accessories, and dressing myself.

 Whitney was a dream, in MK logo chocolate brown leather, with leather trim in a shade called “acorn.” There were handy compartments and an attached holder fob clip something or other so I wouldn’t lose my keys. God, it’s like they know me. It was pricey, but finally, in some frenzied attempt at empowerment, or perhaps just greed, it was in my cart online and on its way to me. It should be harder to shop online; there should be some kind of on-screen warning that pops up and says, “Holy accessories, Batgirl, have you lost the plot?” Still, it was a totally righteous moment. The old hair commercial slogan, “Because you’re worth it!” was echoing in my head, and I fancied myself the Norma Rae of retail therapy.   That’s when the buyer’s remorse hit.

It should be noted that my current bag is a Coach, vintage backpack style, in buttery soft leather in a kick-butt shade of red. I got it at a yard sale for $10. Score!  And now, here I was, paying full retail. What fresh hell was this? Conspicuous consumption is not my thing. I’m so cheap I can squeeze a dime until Roosevelt screams, but now a designer bag (did I mention FULL PRICE?) was headed my way. It arrived, and while it was lovely, another part of my shopping personality became evident. I’m impossible to please. OK, that’s a trait that might extend beyond my shopping efforts, but still. Whitney was a wee bit too small to be carried comfortably on my shoulder. So, I began to research. Whitney was dispatched back to the Internet of Things, and I set off for the local Michael Kors store, because, I needed to see the mothership. Let me say that, for me, it was quite something to walk into a high-end boutique fully intending to purchase an item.

The sales rep was amazing; I mean she knew the name of every bag like they were her sorority sisters. There, bathed in white light and nestled on sleek chrome accented shelves, was the bag of my dreams. It had it all. Except it was more expensive than Whitney. Then, as if in some fugue state, my mother’s words came back to me. She was not a designer fan. When she’d see someone sporting an embossed designer logo, like, “YSL” or “LV” on a shirt or bag she’d say, “Jeeez, if you’re gonna wear initials, shouldn’t they be your own? Who the heck is YSL, and why do I want his name on my clothes?” However, she was also a big believer in treating yourself once in a while. The logo plastered all over the tote bag was “MK” Sure, it means Michael Kors. Or, could it mean Mary Kelley? I wish she were still around; I’d have bought us matching bags, budget, or no budget.

Yes, we all have to reign it in now and then on spending. No one (at least in my circle) has an unlimited supply of cash. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but a little treat now and then is nice, right? Especially because when the bag is hanging off my arm, I think of my mum and chuckle to myself. She may not have approved of the purchase, but she’d like the intent. Retail therapy is real, and trust me; it works. Treat yo’ self.