Who doesn’t love a good sale? In my group of friends, the first 30 minutes (or more) of our regular Friday happy hour consists of admiring shoes, handbags, and discussing who got what on sale that week, like hunters showing off their quarry. Oohing and ahhing over the designer knock-off ballet slippers bought at Target (knock off secrets discussed in the happy hour remain in the happy hour.)
My sister and I bond as we shop the triple mark down clearance at Saks and Neimans, playing “Let’s Make a Deal” in the dressing room… “I’ll trade you the purple Prada sweater for the Yves St. Laurent Skirt.” Or “If you give me the Pucci skirt, you can have the Stella McCartney dress.” Or in my sister’s case, “You give me something and I will trade you the same thing I already gave you and hope you don’t notice.” Does she think I haven’t learned a thing after trailing her for so many years?
At the end of sale season, I often feel like the hangover after two weeks of binge drinking. I wake up from my sales frenzy and wonder “did I really need that lime green Max Mara raincoat or another two pair of black pumps (which look identical to the other 4 pairs I already own?)” All the purchases seemed like such a good idea at the time… those three reduced price stickers on the tag is like a drug I can’t resist.
Jumping off the sugar high at the end of sales season. I feel an intervention on the horizon….