Retail Therapy: When the Bottom Shops Out

Happy birthday to me. Who could deny herself a few confections for her 32nd birthday? There were the shoes - the delightful nude suede lace-up half-boots I bought with the DSW gift card they bestowed on me. That was followed by an Amazon order - some books and movies and CDs because those are the sorts of gift I would want for my birthday. And when I went to TJ Maxx and everything just seemed to fit, I took it as a sign to buy it all. The Borders by my house is going out of business, and before I knew it, three trips and a stack of books later, I'd swiped a fair amount on the old plastic telling myself it was a good deal.

It didn't end there. Because in addition to my spending on non-perishables like shoes and dresses and books, there was a generous uptick in my payout for perishable items. Like cocktails. And dinners. And lunches and brunches. So while I was growing fat, my wallet grew thin.

On one particular day, a box from DSW arrived at the same time as an Amazon shipment, and I arrived home to both directly from a shopping spree. My den was littered with boxes and bubble wrap and the smell of new shoes and a pile of new books and the wadded up cellophane that covered the DVDs strewn among the rubble. And I felt a twinge of something. But ignored it.

But looking back, I can see how sad it felt to sit among all those new things and still feel the void. I know it's cliche; but cliches are cliche because they so accurately portray the human condition in all its repetitive glory. I mean, it's nothing new to shop out of sadness or loneliness or desperation or all three. But cliche or no, it was still the case.

I know what I was thinking in some moments: that I deserved new things to compensate for the lack of whatever else I wanted. I was seizing those things I wanted that I could acquire with a credit card. Who wouldn't want to exact that sort of control when other things on the wishlist are so maddeningly unattainable no matter my credit limit? Why shouldn't I buy pretty clothes and beloved books and movies that provide the perfect escape from reality when faced with the immense dissatisfaction of what I couldn't purchase?

What a harrowing truth. I think I finally accepted it during a bridal shower - an affair at which we were the sole shoppers in a downtown boutique. And instead of selecting one item as a token purchase, I chose...well, more than one. Despite the discount the boutique offered, I still nearly choked when presented with the credit card slip. But with a swift flick of the pen, I signed my name under a ghastly total. That was the moment that the rationalizations and rationality collided in my head in a strange confusion of voices about what I deserved and what was okay and what had spun totally out of control.

The point is not how much I spent. It wasn't the money. It wasn't that for once in my life I burned through an entire paycheck like water. It was that I let myself. That I could be in a place where I found it permissible to soothe my wounded soul with so much stuff. The truth came close to the bone...that I could be reckless because I just didn't care anymore. Who needs to be reasonable when all hope is lost? Who needs to rein in when the rain never stops? Why not shop myself broke? What's to lose except money?

To be honest, I haven't taken anything back. Perhaps because I truly like the things I purchased. Perhaps because when I wear those jeans I simply had to have or the dress meant for the next special occasion, I'll remember. I'll remember that all hope is not lost. That there's something to hope for, even if it's just for that place where the aubergine Ralph Lauren dress will be the perfect attire.

Image via Rita H. Ireland

The -ings of the Last Week

* Getting my hair cut - my favorite thing - which involved talking to my stylist about the line dancing craze of the early 90s

* Attending the farewell show of The Rockstar's band at the 40 Watt. He's moving to Barcelona to pursue his music. And I am sad.

* Putting together a photo book of San Francisco on Shutterfly. It's so awesome, I can't stop looking at it.

* Meeting up with my dear Jenny Ray and her husband Nick for drinks on Friday night. She got to see the aforementioned red shoes, and we caught up on all sorts of things - like hugs!

* Winning my first account for the firm on Thursday. Hooray!

* Enjoying lunches with my parents while Dad spent the rest of the week at home recovering.

* Missing Dillon. I didn't get to see him Father's Day weekend in all the hospital madness.

* Catching up on blogs.

* Sorting through old photos - Jenn, I found some oldies, but goodies. Like your college graduation party?

* Taking many, many photographs to complete the photo game. 20 photos down and six to go.

* Shopping too much - I am enacting a moratorium on new clothing purchases.

* Thinking. A lot. About life and love and the pursuit of happiness.

* Gaining perspective on the here and now.

The Merry Malaise

Christmas time is here. Happiness and cheer. Or not so much. I don't mean to sound so Scroogish. It's just that the holiday season is turning into the holiday sadness, such as

* Total annoyance with the Secret Santa game at work - the complex logistics, the forced clue-dropping, having to make dip for the big "reveal" party. Yelch.

* Inability to shop. At all. I finally gave in last night and dropped a load at Amazon just to get some of it done.

* Counting down the days until Christmas...is over.

* Irritation at the onslaught of Christmas commercials with the Rockwell-esque and Courier & Ives Christmas scenes that don't exist but that I somehow feel like they should.

* Repulsion over the excess...the recent tour of a very big home with very expensive furniture, art, decor...millions invested in it all...for a family of three.

* The anticipation for the childlike wonder to flicker and flare inside me somewhere...and the simultaneous knowing that I'm waiting in vain

* Telling Mom every day that I'll help her finish decorating the Christmas tree...and not doing it

* Investigating the box of goodies from FudgeyNut that Dad brought home and thinking about devouring the whole lot in a fit of depressed binge-eating

* Having to call the doctor, ask for more of The Medicine, because, well, bah humbug

Celebrate Good Times

Despite the fact that I'm a tad grouchy about turning 28, the 72-hour birthday extravaganza surrounding the event were enough to wash away the blues. These included

* Arrival of owl post bearing gifts from afar

* Shoe shopping at DSW's 80 percent off summer clearance sale with Mom, Anna, Eva & Dillon. The prevalence of the 80 percent off stickers nearly caused my circuits to overload.

* A card from my sister that wished me clearance shoes in my size. In the end, I walked away with three pairs.

* Funny e-cards and well-wishing emails and lovely comments on the blog

* Greek salad with grilled shrimp

* Sushi at Utage and milkshakes from The Grill (courtesy of Eva & Justin)

* Blueberry pancakes made by Chef Justin

* A card from Justin with a poem about farting (I love my brother)

* A gift certificate from Mom for a massage

* Dillon's first bath in the sink in which he determined that splashing is fun

* Sunday dinner at Blue Willow Inn, which I'm not sure those of you not from The South can truly appreciate. But it's sweet tea, fried chicken, collard greens and sweet potato casserole that will knock your socks off finished with chess pie. Mmmm.

* A new teacup for my collection

* A card from my parents that made me cry

Here's hoping for many happy returns.

Fashion Espionage

Tomorrow, I'm going to the Azalea Festival Garden Party in historic Airlie Gardens. We'll all stand around under the giant live oaks drinking gin and tonics and eating East Carolina barbecue to the sounds of the band who will undoubtedly be wearing seersucker suits and playing "When the Saints Go Marching In." And while the majority of these people "aren't from 'round here," they'll all play Deep South for the day. Women will wear all manner of floral-printed sundresses and giant hats and men will wear madras pants and pastel blazers.

And in the grand tradition of it all, I decided to go by TJ Maxx after work to see if I too could find some sort of appropriate head accoutrement. Instead, I encountered Miranda, office executive assistant by day and personal stylist by night. Before I knew it, she was shoving me toward the fitting rooms with 7 garments in my hand.

I fell in love with one of the dresses. A dress that I loved despite its requiring a strapless bra. And even though I worried that its babydoll shape might be a bit young for me. I loved it. Needed it. Had to have it. But it was a bit too big. No matter, I thought. I remembered seeing a smaller size on the rack.

When I went back, there was a woman there who was clearly almost twice my age - with my dress. I waited 35 minutes for her to go the dressing room with it. I figured she would try it on, decide it was way too young for her, and discard it - for me.

I lurked one row over from her. Followed her through the shoes and the handbags. That's where Allison, another officemate, found me leaning against the size sixes, peering through the last row of purses, my eye on the fitting room door. And finally, after 45 minutes of waiting, the woman emerged, carrying not one but two of my dress. She kept holding them up and considering them.

I lost my patience. "Excuse me," I said. "If you decide you don't want either one of those dresses, will you let me know? Because I really want it." She had the next two sizes down from the one I had. And gave me the smaller. I felt sad, thinking there was no way it would fit. But it did! Hurrah!

Almost two hours after getting there, after an insane debacle in the checkout counter, I left TJ Maxx, feeling rather satisfied that my stakeout had paid off. Tomorrow, I will be a precious magnolia in bloom.

Giraff-ic

Happy giraffe t-shirt purchased at Target. I love Target.

Twelve Days of Christmas

The holidays have come and gone in the last twelve days since I've been at home. The hustle and bustle of the season has kept me from the blog for the most part, so here's little summary of the twelve days of Christmas.

* One duet of "Me and Bobby McGee" with Mom
* Two Grill Milkshakes (both strawberry)
* Three hours watching old SNL on YouTube
* Four new pairs of shoes
* Five days of shopping!
* Six outfits selected for Baby Dillon
* Seven new CDs
* Eight furry relatives visited - including Anna's puppies
* Nine hundred miles traveled
* Ten late nights reading
* Eleven times listening to Wintersong on repeat
* Twelve extra pounds

Teenage Wasteland

Dear Mallrats of America:
To the teenagers nationwide, you have made it glaringly obvious to me that I am now old. Not only did I mistake some of you for middle-schoolers whilst out shopping yesterday, you also provoked me into saying things that I thought only my parents would say. But, in acceptance of my role as your older, wiser counterpart, I give you the following advice.

* You are not nearly so in love as you think you are. By that, I mean you cannot possibly be so in love that you need to make out in the Auntie Anne's Pretzel line. Or kiss and touch against one of the candy-striped pillars.

* You are naked. Put some clothes on. You may dare to wear short shorts, but we wish you wouldn't. And it's cold out. So put the hot pants away and cover up.

* I know that Hot Topic is a very important store. Please don't knock me down (as I am now an old lady) to get there.

* If you're going to purchase an item in a store and happen to be in line in front of me, please stop texting long enough to pay so that the rest of us may do the same.

* And, lastly, for those of you inspired by Insane Clown Posse and the like, I dig that you're an angsty teenager and that you're expressing yourself with the all-black clothes and the blue hair and the wallet chains. I just wanted to tell you - it does get better.

So get your hand out of your boyfriend's pocket, put on some pants and get out of my way. I'm older and have better insurance.

Happy Holidays,
Ash

P.S. Hot Topic is having a big sale day after Christmas. Just a tip.

Homeward Bound

A rolling stone gathers no moss, so in an effort to keep my person as free from green fuzzy things as my fridge now is, I'm rolling out of town once again tomorrow. For once, I'm looking forward to a long, solitary drive. Maybe somewhere down that long stretch of highway, I'll get back in touch with my mental hum. Tomorrow afternoon, I'll be driving down the main street of my hometown and thinking about having dinner at the place of my choice in Athens. If I'm lucky, we can conclude the evening with a milkshake from The Grill - ain't nothing better.

And while Saturday's shower for Sprout means I have to get up at an ungodly early hour in order to make the drive into Atlanta, I'm so delighted to be bestowing my frog on Eva & Justin, that I'm not complaining. Not to mention I've been promised a trip to DSW and Off Broadway. I can't help the happy flutters I get from anticipating going somewhere whose name stands for Discount Shoe Warehouse. If I don't feel myself after the drive, I'm pretty sure I'll recover my senses by slipping on some Stuart Weitzmans and BCBGs.

On the Placement of Ohio

I'm wondering who I might petition about the placement of the state of Ohio. I know some Ohioans enjoy the proximity to Canada, but, if it were closer to, say, North Carolina, there would be the allure of the beach and the mountains. Everybody loves the beach and the mountains. And, as evidenced by the past weekend, some very important things are being prevented by the distance between these two states. For example:

* There is less modge-podging going on. And frankly, the world needs more thinly spread glue over pictures of Mr. Big and Dwight Schrute cut out of magazines.

* Improptu live concerts of "Me & Bobby McGee" and "Rockin' the Suburbs" are at an all time low.

* Krispy Kreme consumption is limited to late night, end-of-trip runs.

* The discovery of the wine cubes available at Target might have been prolonged even further.

* Less money is put into the North Carolina economy during shopping trips that involve buying accessories and clothes "just because" and I might never have purchased that great green tunic shirt.

* Not as many people know the joy of Old Time Pottery - where you can purchase a small bamboo rug, four drinking glasses, a hamburger flipper, two 6 x 8 pieces of art and a kitchen timer shaped like a chicken all for the bargain price of $18.75.

* Opportunities for great films such as "Justin Recounts a Bar Fight" and "Tom & Dave Talk Anchorman" go unrealized every day.

In conclusion, if I had a million dollars, I'd move Ohio.