Okay, I shopped. I bought some stuff I don’t need.
I bought a couple of new bathing suits. But I threw away every bathing suit that was stretched out, had straps that bothered me for one reason or another, didn’t fit properly, were faded, etc. Out with the old and in with the new and sure, I could have muddled through the rest of this year wearing the old bathing suits but I didn’t. Instead, I got rid of the bathing suits that didn’t make me feel good and I bought a couple that look good on me and I don’t feel a lick of guilt.
Then I went to Disney World for a day. Actually, Epcot. And spent the night in a hotel and then the next day, before returning home, I stopped at Disney Springs to check it out. I had lunch. I walked around. And as I was walking around, I looked ahead and saw the Coach store. Do we need to talk about my weakness for purses? It’s a big problem. Probably, I could have made this a “no buying new purses for a year” challenge to myself and it would be just as effective. By which I mean, not effective at all.
It was a lovely Florida day, and the doors of the Coach store stood open, and through those open doors, as I approached, while repeating in my head “do not go into the Coach store. You are not going to go into the Coach store. Turn away from the Coach store immediately,” a golden beam of sunlight illuminated what is possibly the most beautiful purse I have ever seen in my life.
It’s a creamy white leather embossed with little pink flower bouquets. Pockets on either side for my phone and my little notebook. A brass-zippered center compartment to hold my keys and my sunglasses and my pens and my three tubes of Chapstick and my cigarettes and lighter and a handful of receipts.
The salesgirl, who recognized me immediately as someone who was going to pretend for five minutes that she wasn’t going to buy this purse, began her spiel about the quality. The “limited edition” status. The sturdy zippers. The excellent construction. The ability to carry it by the handles or to use the straps and how perfectly those straps hug my shoulder and how perfectly the bag hangs under my arm and I just nodded and nodded with a little bit of drool coming out of my mouth.
And then I asked the price.
And then I started to laugh. And I asked the salesgirl how on earth it is possible for a purse to cost that much.
“I can’t do it,” I said. Because that is just way too much money to spend on a purse. Especially a purse I don’t need because I have a thousand purses. And I was relieved, because the cost of the damn thing made my decision for me.
Then she noticed my Apple Watch strap, which is a Coach Apple Watch strap, and she said, as I started to wander away from the most beautiful purse ever made, “I love your watch strap!” And I said “thank you, I get so many compliments on it,” and then she said “Then obviously you’re a regular customer, so I can offer you 30% off this purse,” which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life, and before I was able to do the math in my head, I was throwing money at her and now I own the most beautiful purse ever made, even though it’s still too much to spend on a purse, even at 30% off.
I have zero regrets about this purchase. I love this purse. I have no need to justify the purchase in any way. It’s an absurd splurge and a worthy one. End of story.
I’m still on this mission to not buy things, and I’ve been writing a lot in my journal about the changes in my thinking that have developed since the start of the year as regards buying things, and I’ll synopsize all of that soon. Because, absurdly overpriced purse purchase notwithstanding, the changes have been pretty significant.