I was killing time in the mall yesterday, waiting to meet up with Chin for dessert, so I decided to window-shop some. I was browsing through the racks in Topshop when it suddenly hit me: I’ve been going about my shopping the wrong way for the past, what, 15 years or so.
Here’s why. On principle, I wouldn’t mind buying an expensive dress that I really like, yet I wouldn’t pay over a certain amount for small separates like tops and skirts and shorts. I’m not entirely sure why. Perhaps on some subconscious level, I believe that more effort and material are used in the making of a dress; therefore, it should cost more. That’s the most logical reason I could think of.
At that moment, though, I realized that if I really, really, REALLY wanted to make the most out of any purchase I make, such reasoning was completely invalid. I simply can’t get as much mileage out of a dress than, say, a pair of denim shorts. I probably wear my most favorite frocks once or twice a month, whereas I wear most of my shorts and tops to death. So if I am to consider the cost-per-use for each dress that I own and compare that with the cost-per-use of separates, I can safely say that I am – pardon mon Francais – royally fucked. It’s a shocking discovery akin to realizing that you’ve paid for Smilebox.com invitations when they’re really FREE. A dismal ROI (return on investment) might as well be zero ROI for all the good it’ll do you.
Do you see what I’m getting at here?
But yeah, it’s amazing what one can think of when one is crushing over a pair of $50 shorts that one really does need (because one’s mother took one’s favorite old pair to Canada) and will probably wear five times a week till one is 40. Damn this self-imposed shopping ban.
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