Sales of the century

At the end of last month, I bought a shirt and a cardigan. A few days later, I bought another cardigan. Not long after that, I bought two coats. Two of those purchases were at full price; the second cardigan and one of the coats. I have, as yet, not worn that full-price coat, one I had coveted for ages. Yes, my bum looks big in it, as does my belly, but it is nice. I’d just be happy if I could go somewhere that I could wear it. Not long after this, I bought another cardigan. I’ve not worn it, yet.

Prior to Christmas, I thought I’d get a bag to go with the coat I’ve not worn yet. The coat is grey, so I wanted a black bag. In the interim, I acquired yet another reduced-price cardigan, and grey jeans when I wanted dark blue! No, I’ve not worn them, either. I got a bag, eventually, and slightly cheaper than its original price (but more expensive than any other bag I had ever bought), but if I’ve got a coat and a bag, I need to have shoes. The bag is leather, yet I bought a pair of suede ankle boots, just because they were cheap. A few days later, I bought another two coats, one of brown suede and the other blue corduroy. The latter had been on my radar for ages, but never in my size (or never in blue) so I had to have it before it was too late. Sadly, it is even better than the grey one from November, and I have no idea if I will ever go anywhere that I can show it off. I needed a bag to go with that, too, and I found one. Luckily, Christmas came, and the shops were shut.

Well, today is Boxing Day, and that means one thing. Yes, back to the shops. I started off in M&S in Argyle Street, at the back end of the ground floor. I left that area of the shop with a half-price pair of black Chelsea boots, and before I’d left the shop, I got a casual jacket I had liked for weeks but had not wanted to pay funny money for. Next stop, Debenhams, and a lovely little green velvet blazer I couldn’t afford in July and never saw again no matter how many branches I had visited. There was only one in the shop this morning, and it was in my size. It was fate. On my way to the bus stop, I popped into Frasers’ to laugh at people paying hundreds of pounds for handbags then I took the bus up to Sauchiehall Street. First stop here was also M&S, and I left with a smart pair of trousers and yet another bag, but the spending spree came to a juddering halt when I discovered that John Lewis was closed! Oh, no! I’ll have to go back tomorrow.

My clothes collection is limited both by the size of my wardrobe, and the depth of my bank balance, and I have never been interested in fashion. I am also old, and the wrong shape and size. If these impediments weren’t present, I could keep the British economy going single-handedly, but I don’t need to. There are plenty of other women out there who are happy to help. Our brains really are wired that way. We’re all nuts, but nowhere near as nuts as those parents who are happy to send their kids out to the sales to queue up outside Abercrombie and Fitch (whatever the hell that is) to get clothes that make them look like every other teenager in that queue, and like Americans. No thanks.