Like everyone else, we have spent much of the last year in a balancing act: Living frugally to save for a home improvement project and another trip to Paris, and spending money at local businesses to do out part to keep the economy going.
In years past, my indulgences were creams and potions and perfumes and scarves and pins and books and...I went to the mall on Friday nights, and the cosmetics counter on Saturdays. I've curbed my spending, shopping at home for new looks and using up every bottle and jar in my overflowing medicine cabinet.
Well, not completely.
I enjoy the prospect of shopping more than the act itself. When I have money to spend, nothing temps me. When I had no money to spend, I wanted everything.
During my last few years in college I had a studio apartment in a hilly, historic neighborhood near the heart of downtown. My tiny apartment was so close to shops and stores that I was able to venture downtown several times a day on weekends, if I so choose.
Saturdays meant an early morning run to the International Market for fresh produce, bagels and cream cheese. I loved this little market, because it reminded me of the neighborhood mom-and-pop stores that once dotted every third street corner of my hometown.
Every other Saturday afternoon involved a trip to the library, which meant I passed the market again. I'd choose 3-4 decent books, usually two fiction and two non-fiction and then push my way uphill again. The reading material helped me fall asleep at night, but tempted me while I studied. A mixed blessing, certainly.
On the Saturday after pay day, I usually treated myself to herbal teas and henna hair rinses from the organic drug store and off treats from Woolworths: a new shade of lip gloss, the latest face cream, some inexpensive bubble bath, or some small trinket that comforted me and reminded me of earlier jaunts to Woolworths.
I was 13 then, and my friends N and C joined me every Saturday afternoon for the mile-long trek downtown and a soda at Woolworths. We perused the teen magazines, bought lipstick and sampled cheap perfume. We saw the handkerchiefs our grandmothers used and bought thread or notions for our mothers.
I still dream about that Woolworths. In that dream I am lost in the aisles.
My trips to Woolworths in the city were a way of bringing back those tender years, a way of finding comfort in an uncertain time, as I studied and worked my way to a BA degree, sometimes holding 2-3 jobs at a time.
After several months of penuriousness, I found the need recently to spend a bit. I bought things in bright hues, as I always do this time of year, in an effort to drive the darkness away. I have more income now, and even knowing that, I have to tell myself I deserve new things once in a while.
Still, I'm not so certain they bring me as much pleasure as those Woolworths trinkets did, almost three decades ago.
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