Reflections of a Shopaholic

I have never thought of my love for shopping as negative or problematic. Growing up, fashion was always "my thing". Some kids loved basketball, others were into ballet, but for me, I think I was happiest while flipping through the pages of my latest Mademoiselle magazine. That magazine (and some other favorites like Teen, Sassy, and Vogue) represented a fantasy world in which I wished I belonged. Growing up on the east coast of Canada in the 90's wasn't exactly where one could find beaucoup de fashion inspiration.

One of the most appealing things for me (and for my Mom) about magazines during that time was the price. For less than three dollars apiece these magazines could entertain me for hours, even days. It was a glimpse into another world. The stories and pictures made me feel like I was part of something bigger than whatever was happening in my hometown.

Coming from a modest family meant that the actual fashions would never be mine, but I did take comfort in the beautiful photographs. It was the era of the "Supermodel". Women like Cindy Crawford and Christy Turlington strutted the catwalk, well before the emergence of heroin chic and long before the magazine industry only put celebrities on their covers. I used to plaster the walls in my room with collages of editorial pages and in-your-face ad campaigns. My mom eventually got tired of pulling off hundreds of pieces off that blue sticky tack stuff from the walls and suggested substituting posters instead. That was fine with me, my room could still be full of beautiful prints and photos of precious things, but just on a larger scale.

My obsession with magazines helped shape my love for "things". When I started earning my own money (as young as 14 I had my first retail job) I started realizing that in some circumstances money can buy you happiness, even if it is just for a little bit, if only for a day. That awareness only became magnified when I moved out on my own and was responsible for my own rent and bills. Everything on top was gravy. Well, the gravy turned into shoes, which turned into pants, which led to dresses, and you know the rest.

Do I still think my love for fashion is problematic? Yes and no. Fashion has given me years of love, beauty, artistry and strength in times when I was both positively ecstatic and completely miserable. Like any great love, however, it does have its drawbacks. Did fashion ever shower me with compliments only to leave me hanging out in the cold, credit card in hand, without an extra penny to spare? Maybe that happened once or twice, which proves that possibly our time apart has been a good thing. In 100 days from now when she and I reunite, it will be interesting to see just who has the upper hand. I'd like to think it will be me, but for now we will just have to wait and see.

My earliest experience with "fashion" (in the red Fame suit, center) on the catwalk in Kmart sometime in the 80's. I think I knew, even back then, that shopping would be a big part of my life.

See how I scored the cutest outfit?

Love, A