Retail Therapy

Recently work has been a bit much. Quite frankly, as far as I'm concerned there's been too much coming my way. I've started working through lunch, which leads to my mind getting zapped and more mistakes being made. I've also ended up working late. I defy anyone to say that I haven't yet entered the real world. I have and I want out.

My latest Burda magazine had come in so at lunch I went to get it. My theory was that taking time off would save me time in the long run. On my way to Darrell's, I started musing about indulging in some retail therapy. As far as I could tell, it would not be hard to justify. One of my friends had attended a training course and described to us how utterly awful the experience had been. She finished her story saying, "And then I walked through the mall on the way home and I was feeling so bad I went into Banana Republic. I bought a skirt, a pair of pants, two tops and a sweater." We looked at her aghast. The mall was the shortcut for the way home, going through the mall was entirely reasonable. To our tentative questions, she gaily answered, "no guilt. That's how bad it was. I mean it's been several days now and no guilt. Retail therapy."

I need a new pair of jeans. I mused about indulging in a good pair this week-end. Except that finding the perfect pair of jeans comes closer to torture. I wasn't in the mood for more torture. I couldn't think of anything that I wanted. I knew that retail therapy was in order and I couldn't think of what would make me happy.

At Darrell's, I was relieved to find that there was no fabric that tempted me. I have enough fabric and unfinished projects at home that I wasn't going to add more. So I flipped through the magazine and bought it. Then as I stood there talking to Darrell, my eye glanced at the linings behind the counter. Ohhh. The paisley lining for the jackets.... The rare and will never get it in again paisley lining for the jackets.... They are gorgeous.

"Are those the linings?" I ask, "Can I see them? Don't let me buy them." Darrell pulls them off the shelf. Amazing.

He's starting a jacket course in a few weeks which I'm not taking. I know that everyone in the course will buy the patterned lining. There will be none left. This is a problem. I want these linings. I just don't want them now. I want them in several months. I start to think.

It's only two dollars a metre more than the regular lining. Ah-ha. And I need less than two metres. I would totally pay five dollars more to have a lining like that. I'm just not making a jacket anytime soon. But this is totally classic. It will never not be elegant and sheer amazing. This is an investment. In a trance, I say I'll have some of this one.

Darrell cuts it, chattering away. He says how this is the slow time so he could ill afford to buy it himself but he's never seen anything like it since he's been in business. Like me, he knew he had to get it now. He carefully folds up the piece. He catches me eyeing one of the other ones. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. I nodd.

So he cuts that one too. He talks about how he was at a recent event for his partner's work and how well-dressed the men were and how poorly dressed the women were. There were the awards for the best salespeople and those winning them were making insane amounts of money. A woman won an award for the top grossing sales. Darrell pauses for emphasis, "Kim you would have died. She was wearing a black polyester backless dress with a fake feather boa. I mean . . ." he goes off slagging her outfit. "No one there was wearing silk. It was all synthetic. All these women making all this money and they can't dress. It was unBELiVable." I quickly mention my new all wool skirt, lined with cotton.

And so we chat and as we chat, I can feel my spirits lifting and my mood improving. We spend a good chunk of time, just passing the time talking about nothing in particular. When I had left work, I had felt awful. I now feel so much better. Retail therapy works wonders. And the fact that I now have two new incredible linings doesn't hurt.