Retail Therapy?

Spoke to Lipstick today. Another friend who has deserted me and is off doing rep somewhere. I'm basically a tour widow at the moment.

She was shopping. It's not a rare occurence for Lipstick to be found scouring the UK's high streets lately. When I call her these days she's never more than an arm's length away from a Topshop clothes rail.

"What are you buying now?" I said, half in admiration, half enviously.

I heard her lipstick-y laugh bubble down the phone line.

"Another pair of jeans. I know! What is wrong with me?" she exclaimed. "I don't even need them."

"Then why are you buying them?" I asked.

The giggle faded to a long silence.

"They'll make me feel better." Her voice sounded subdued.

"Life will be so much cheaper when you're not feeling sad anymore," I said.

Lipstick is a little under the weather at the moment, emotionally speaking. But forget counselling. She's gone down the retail avenue of therapy. It's just a phase, and one that I'm certain she'll grow out of, in time. For now, though, she's destined to wander aimlessly around department stores, seduced by their bright colours and pretty things, helplessly buying into their quick-fix sales pitches. Have me and you'll be happy. Take me home now, hassle-free. Buy me and your life will be just a little bit better.

Now, as you may have guessed, Witch isn't averse to a healthy injection of new glamour from time to time. It's odd, though. I haven't bought anything for about six months and I feel strangely better for it. Considering I used to buy myself something at least every week, that's quite a turnaround.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not boasting about my new-found thriftiness, or showing off about my unshakable grip on the purse strings. It's mainly due to budget reasons. If I could afford to shop, I probably would. But there has been a change, and interestingly it has coincided with a huge change in my life.

I used to shop all the time. I would kid myself that it was just how I was. I just liked to shop, right? What was the problem with that? Nevertheless, I would hide new purchases from friends - guiltily telling myself it was fear of their reproach that was forcing me into hiding. I'm sure partly it was. But I think the greater fear was of being challenged about the reasons behind my spending habits. What was I looking to replace? Was I trying to fill a gap, a void?

It's funny how I don't even want to shop any more. I guess I don't need to. All those beautiful dresses are really just a symbol of how unhappy I was.

Anyway, I'm grateful for them now, because they'll make the Wardrobe Challenge so much easier. Those impulse buys are going to come in handy...

Witch's Wardrobe Challenge

So, armed with the knowledge that the weekend had suddenly and joyously doubled in length and the car was still running, albeit with only half an exhaust pipe, Witch went to see the 'rents yesterday.

Big Witch was there too. Joined us for lunch at a little Italian deli.

"Have you ordered mine yet?" she asked, wrestling with an impossibly large and ridiculously patent Chloe handbag. "Oh, great. No, I'll just have a hot water."
She rummaged around inside the enormous Chloe and produced an unusual-looking teabag.

Big Witch: several years my senior; impossibly trendy; works for a big glossy; likes handbags, smells, books and buying sofas on ebay; keeping them for two weeks before deciding she doesn't like them and selling them on (usually for a profit). Also has witchy hair (a la West End Witch) and is snobbish about tea.

We had a mooch around the shops. I was beginning to tire a little of being dragged around stores where the price tags had to be big enough for four figures. Lately I had begun to tire of the drab old selection in my closet. I felt as if I had nothing to wear but no budget to solve the problem. I voiced this concern to Big Witch and she suggested getting the summer wardrobe out.

"It's not that warm yet," I said.
"No, but you can play around with layering," she replied, fingering a Paul and Joe skirt. "Try it. You've got loads of clothes. And some of them you haven't seen for six months. It'll be like having a new wardrobe."

I thought about what Big Witch had said when I got home. She might just be onto something. I crawled under the bed and pulled out the two big bags of necessaries and fripperies that had lain there hidden for half a year.

She was right. All the summer sillies were there - strappy little pieces of nothing and flimsy bits of chiffon, but there were also a few dresses that were warm enough to wear now with a sweater and the right shoes. What was this? A dear little Forties tea frock I had found a couple of years ago on Brick Lane? Marvellous. And this cute sample from a warehouse somewhere in North London that I had altered to fit? I had forgotten about that, too. Oh, joy!

A little-known fact about West End Witch: I collect dresses. Designer, high street, thrift, home-made - I don't care. I am obsessed with dresses. Fortunately I have so many that when I pulled them out of the bags, it was like having a new wardrobe.

Which got me thinking. We wear 20% of our wardrobe 80% of the time. Kind of shows that there are a lot of sad little numbers sitting at the back of our closets, waiting to be picked. I wondered how long I could go without wearing the same thing twice...

I think I am going to set myself a challenge. I'll have to set some rules and allowances, of course - I'd have to repeat shoes and underwear, and maybe I'd have to exclude rehearsal gear from the equation, but I reckon I could do a fair stretch. In this time of credit crisis, wouldn't it make sense?

Right. I'm going to do it. As soon as I've figured out the finer details of my plan, I'll let you know.