I never understood I was addicted to shopping until I went cold turkey on a recent European holiday and had to confront the emptiness inside: the nothingness in the pit of my stomach that is only comforted by the fleeting high that shopping gives me (it’s a bit like a sugar hit, which is very swiftly replaced by the guilt of being undisciplined.)
You’ll know that you’re shopping addicted if you feel uneasy when you bring your purchases home and then store them out of sight from friends or family. Or you may delay trying on your new clothes because then your spur of the moment splurge becomes a reality.
As for shopping on holiday, that’s ingrained in many of us with the means to shop, right? Otherwise the entire international souvenir industry would crumble. A grass skirt, a precious piece of Venetian glass or a mini Eiffel Tower monument probably never hurt anyone, right? Instead it’s when you actually up the ante by using valuable leisure time to restock your wardrobe or heaven help you, comb markets for cumbersome homewares and all the shipping that entails.
Luckily this was all out of reach for me on my recent trip because my budget dictated that I could either invest in experiences including eating well and taking tours or hit the shops. No contest, right?
Well, tell that to the AbFab voice in my head that was constantly extolling me to max out my cards because I’m only here once. I recall swimming in the hotel pool early one morning when a fellow Aussie informed me of a massive sale taking place in the showy boutiques in the town centre.
“Go on, what are you waiting for?” she urged. And I swear, I nearly flipped out of the pool like a porpoise, the adrenalin surging through me, ready to hit the shops. Luckily I was able to take a moment to remind myself that this trip was not about shopping and also, I didn’t actually need anything.
After that just like a a recovering obsessive, I was able to glance at shop windows when I was strolling through the town without even feeling the need to cross the threshold. Yes, I took it one shop at a time.
Fully relaxed, I no longer felt my identity was entwined with how many expensive shopping bags were dangling from my wrist like trophies won from a hard earned battle.
I gradually started to notice the benefits of not spending my time mechanically flicking through racks of clothes. I felt much less stressed and able to concentrate on what each destination had to offer in terms of natural beauty. Fully relaxed, I no longer felt my identity was entwined with how many expensive shopping bags were dangling from my wrist like trophies won from a hard earned battle. I understood then that for many of us, shopping really is about collecting status symbols.
Another test was arriving in Rome for the first time and exploring all the landmarks without the need for checking out the flagship stores of my favourite Italian designers. It was fascinating to have the luxury of exploring the Vatican museum with a guide rather than breathlessly heading to the nearest outlet mall.
Shopping can be debilitating but strolling around the streets was enriching. I could actually breathe in the air of the city.
In fact, during three weeks away, the only time I visited a clothing shop in was to return a dress that I’d bought the year before in a resort town. It had taken me almost an entire year to get around to wearing it, which says a lot about my old shopping habits.
Shopping can be debilitating but strolling around the streets was enriching. I could actually breathe in the air of the city.
So I’ve returned home with just one purchase in my luggage - a small brass souvenir bowl for nuts. And a brand new attitude when it comes to finding other ways to nourish myself emotionally than just flashing the plastic. I’ve also resolved not to purchase anything new until at least the end of the year. It’s a goal that I’m sure that I can make.
After all, new clothes are fun and may offer a morale boost or perhaps even an opportunity to try out a new image. But unfortunately they can never change who we are inside.
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