Shop 'Til You're Rich
Remember when Bush the Junior told everyone to "go shopping" after 9/11 as our way of letting the terrorists know we meant business? And then he started bombing Afghanistan, only to move on to Iraq shortly thereafter?
Well, I have a friend who worked with me at the NDP but who also has a certain fascination for rightwing thugs (she enjoyed Mike Harris' reign of terror, for instance - mostly because of how apoplectic he made the public sector unions - whom we both so despised anyway, coming from the Sault and Hamilton as we did, and having watched with horror as they stuck ten thousand forks into Bob Rae's term of office) and she said, "He's right, you know."
And went shopping.
But she'd have gone shopping, anyway. She was a working mother with a good income who firmly believed "You are what you buy." She also believed very strongly that shopping - if you could afford it - was a very practical way to deal with "the blues". It was her personal experience that going shopping made her feel better.
Now, I'm an extremely frugal person, almost to the point of being pathological. But I know fully well that I have gone shopping in a somewhat blue mood, and, depending on what I bought, returned home feeling good. Satisfied. Like I'd done something positive.
It's terrible to admit, but I've probably bought items of clothing that gave me the sort of pleasure curing cancer would give to another person. What's even worse to admit is that I've probably bought items of clothing that gave me the sort of pleasure curing cancer wouldn't.
Why is that? Well, I think it has something to do with exercising power. I earn money, therefore I can buy stuff. And depending on what I buy, it can give me quite a fine feeling of accomplishment.
For instance, while I used to get a thrill from buying something nice on sale, something nice to wear, I now get a thrill when I find just the right item of clothing - whether it's on sale or not. Because now, at this age, when I shop I'm actually looking for something specific. I don't care what it costs, so much. And that's saying something coming from me. What I care about is that it's what I want. If I see something not quite right but it's on sale, I resist the impulse to buy it because I know it's not quite what I want.
I'll wait it out now. Time may be money but there's no point in cluttering up your life. I know myself well enough now that the stripe has to be finer, the shade of red has to have a hint of blue, the fabric has to be fine.
Meanwhile, I've always wondered about those women everyone knows about but no one actually knows unless they're one of them, too - the shopping wives.
I figure those women buy stuff because their men derive a sense of power from their shopping habits. Am I right? I mean, those women seem to approach shopping like a professional duty. Maybe it is. Maybe their shopping gives their husbands the confidence they need to go after the big bucks in business. Certainly it would be hard to imagine their relationships having much point otherwise. I mean, how could it possibly be worth it for a man to slog it out in the workplace just so his wife could buy another pair of Manolos if he wasn't getting a kickback.
Do those guys do ANYTHING without a kickback?
I guess, too, it gives the shopping wife a value, a purpose, a point. It would have to. Because it really doesn't seem to me that these women approach their shopping with any less than a strong sense of duty. Shopping isn't frivolous to these women, not at all. It's serious. That they make it look fun is part of the role.
I have a funny story about shopping with one such woman. She was the wife of an old boss of mine and fifteen minutes into meeting me she said, "Let's go." Well, I had a massage, my hair cut and dyed, and a brand new power suit before I could say, "Please Ma'am. No more." But she was right. I got back to work (nevermind I'd been gone all afternoon - I was with the boss' wife) and the boss was pleased as punch.
"Oh my," he exclaimed. "You look very professional." Later, he confided to me, proudly, "She's very good at what she does. People don't realize that about her."
And what she did - was shop.
I still have the suit. It's my only suit, too. I would never think to buy another one. And yet, here I am the working girl, slogging it out, day after day, for just enough money to cover expenses and sock a few bucks into a savings account - and she's the one with the sense to invest in a good suit.
It also meant I put her on a priority list of people I stopped everything for to do whatever it was she wanted me to do.
Not that she needed to buy me a suit for me to know that much. My mother had given me that bit of advice when I first started out in the working world. She had been a teacher and put my father through law school. Once he started practicing, they started a family and she stayed home (of course, you couldn't teach pregnant in those days, anyway). The thing she hated most was having to call him at work about something or other and be told by his secretary that he was busy. She said very pointedly, "Always put the wife through." And so I did.
Ironically, she was also always trying to put her daughters in power suits.
Sometimes, I really wish I'd listened better.
