Not That Anyone Asked...

...But some of my most impulsive purchases turned out to be amazing long-term investments. And more importantly, long-term moments of happiness.

I shop for fun. It's a problem. I have my go-to stores, and when I visit them, it's a genuine pleasure. And incidentally, when and if these stores happen to close, I grieve. Sigh; can we please have a moment for the Century 21 on W66th St? The Shoe Parlor on 7th Ave? The Irregular Choice boutique on Lafayette? The Unique Boutique from, I don't know, 1989? Rennaisance on 23rd St? Ugh, I'm still not over some of them. All this said, I am NOT a shopaholic, thank you very much. I wear and use everything I buy, and I do not always buy when I shop. My closet is not full of clothes that are still tagged, and I am not saddled with astronomical debt. From shopping, that is. (Boston College is another story...not that I'm bitter. But that's another post for another time).

Usually when I hit a favorite store, I have something in mind, but I'm open to wherever the wind blows me, and I think this is one of the secrets to successful and enjoyable shopping: being down to clown. Need a top? Look at shoes too, just because. And housewares...because they happen to be having a special on Nambé! What good fortune! The Bloomingdale's Outlet Store on Broadway at 72nd is still my ultimate jam. It's a complete disaster, but its also chock full of treasures. You just have to have some time to kill and the bandwidth to rummage through the chaos, because it really is complete and total chaos. I live in Baltimore and I work in Boston, so I cast a pretty wide (!!) shopping net these days. Buffalo Exchange in Boston's Coolidge Corner just gave me good reason to squee, and I got some mega dopamine hits without spending more than $26. And as for my adopted hometown in 'Balmer, walking into Ten Car Pileup in Towson was like entering a portal and finding myself immediately back in 1984. I was once again acting like an awkward preteen as I chatted up the owner, Shane: impossibly cool, sitting casually at the register with the air of someone who's seen literally everything. On one particularly successful trip, I found an amazing lime green leather Frye three-quarter jacket for $50. Probably $10 too much, but you know the original price was at least $400. Amazing. One of my crown jewels. Sigh.

Anyway, if there is one thing I'm better at than spending my own money, it's spending other people's money, so let me offer some advice that absolutely NO ONE asked for: if you are out shopping and you see something and are seized by the desire to make it yours, as long as you're not going to go broke and it's not an irresponsible bonehead move, you should buy it. There's likely a reason it's grabbed your attention, and I'm a sucker for the idea that fate brought you and that killer leather jacket together. When I see something that fits into this category, the dealbreaker causing me to pull the trigger and make the purchase is the knowledge that walking out of the store without those Stewart Weitzman 5050 black suede knee high boots marked down from $795 to $89 (OMGRIGHT?) in my size when I almost never go into DSW will cause regret. I will surely want to return for them tomorrow, when, of course, they will, in all likelihood, be gone. Regret is a four-letter word. Let's call it "RGRT" here because it's so awful and the idea of it haunts me. Again and again I've proven to myself that just buying that damn raincoat was an EXCELLENT move. I have worn that effing raincoat for five years in three countries, three American cities, gained and lost 30 lbs, gained them back and stayed dry all the while...with said coat remaining in pristine condition. I continue to benefit from the $350 noise-cancelling Bose headphones that were rage-purchased en route from Grand Central to Frozen the day of the 5th Avenue Food Fair, when I truly thought that walking that 1/4 mile would give me a stroke. That was five years ago. I could go on and on, as I'm sure you can imagine at this point, but I won't. I'll simply close with a few words – and a tip o' the hat to that expensive Jesuit education that I continue to pay for:

Carpe Diem. Buy the damn shoes.