Oooh, frisson of excitement; personal invitation in inbox.
Party? Wedding? Day at the races? Even better, one of my favourite shops is having an online sale. Again. (Does anyone sell clothes at full price for longer than a month these days?) Click, click, click and I’m browsing heaven; loads of lovely stuff and big red signs saying Massive Reductions and A Third Off.
Shop Now, says another. So I do. This the ideal opportunity to buy posh new summer outfits should invites to posh summer dos arrive soon.
It’s Saturday morning, I’m still in bed and humming that Eighties Martini ad to myself. “Any time, any place, anyeewhere...” Shopping online is so simple. No need to brush hair or teeth and trade tatty dressing gown for something saying smart and savvy high street shopper.
In a matter of minutes my virtual shopping basket is expanding to supermarket-sized trolley. In goes a gorgeous pure silk dress with matching jacket, a sensational Fifties-style summer coat in silver-threaded shell pink, some sexy, Audrey Hepburn-esque scarlet Capri pants, yet another pair of white trousers and a couple of tops versatile enough to go with both (see, thrifty). Oh and the perfect nude suede ballet flats which are not in the sale but, as I’ve said, are PERFECT. Before going to checkout, best to duplicate everything in a bigger size to ensure something fits.
Refresh the order. Ye Gods, I’ve virtually spent £850. More than the ruddy gas bill and there’s still postage and packing to add.
Time to get real. Vanity is shelved first; only the bigger sizes are actually going to fit. A few unticks and a refresh and I’m down to a “mere” £425.
Still shockingly extravagant, so cool, logical, tight-arse side of personality kicks luxury-lusting spendthrift in gut. Posh silk dress = expensive dry-cleaning bills. Sparkly white summer coat = extravagant, impractical frippery destined to remain unworn as no do posh enough will ever arise. Checkout total now £175. Still too much. Red trousers will probably be tight (more heartburn than Hepburn) and draw stormy looks to thunderous thighs.
MORE white trousers?? The ones bought three years ago will be fine. Checkout tally now £95, but minus two tops no longer needed and that just leaves £45 to pay for the ballet flats. But they’re not reduced, so why bother when I’m shopping in a sale, for Godsakes? Turn off computer and lie back on bed. Ideal place when you’re all shopped out.