Shopping while depressed

I am a hopeless shopper, and have the wardrobe to prove it. But every few years I become aware that my clothes need replacing and today was The Day.

Over lunch I’d confided to a friend that I’d been running an “experiment” for the last two months to see if anyone noticed that I had been wearing the same basic outfit every day. I said that no one had said anything, to which she added, “… not to your face.” I hadn’t thought of that.

Around the same time I discovered holes in some of my favourite clothes, and noticed a general drabness from too much laundry time. The signs were all pointing in the same direction.

So I dutifully steeled myself for the task and headed into town. The first shop is crucial because it is the barometer of things to come: if I can’t see anything I like that is vaguely suitable, I know the fashion gods are against me and I will find no manna this season.

Fortunately the gods were conciliatory and in spite of there being a lot of people in town on account of the rugby, I managed to find clothes, fitting rooms, and staff to take my money. I came home with a small collection of things that will see me through the next few years (yes, years: most of my clothes I wear for years). You know it’s time to quit when you can’t carry any more bags.

Shopping While Depressed is generally a very bad idea. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have attempted it, but needs must and getting dressed was starting to get a bit desperate. Fortunately it went well. It gave my self esteem a bit of a nudge in the right direction and I found enough that fit and suited me. Sometimes, looking in the mirror and seeing something that feels like “me” can be just the antidote to not feeling like much of anything.

Plus, I got home before the rain set in.

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