Words designed to twist a little thorn of indecision into my side. Words that wedge a cleave between my desire and my conscience. It costs half a month’s rent and it’s made entirely of tulle and velvet. It’s worth four dinners out and it’s just a tiny bit too big on the waist…
When I went to watch the first Sex and the City movie, I did so with a mixed group of girls, not all great friends of mine, but all just as keen as the next. And I loved it. My eyes couldn’t have been wider, sitting there in the dark. I swear Keegan’s hand was bruised from all my instantaneous palm squeezes… did you see that?! Did you feel it? The second we emerged from the cool, dark chamber of the cinema, one of the girls launched into a monologue about how expensive the clothes are, and how wasteful it is to spend thousands on couture, which, by definition, is not exactly wearable. How can the makers of SATC justify outlandish gowns that cost $ 50 000 a pop that will only be worn once and then put out to pasture in a museum somewhere?
Because it is art?
Because it takes my breath away?
Or because you drive a brand new Polo and wear Levi’s and holiday in Antibes? Same thing, sister. Excess is excess. And it gets under my skin and into my bloodstream and makes me fidgety. It makes my veins fizz with longing. Even if this excess emphasizes nothing but a lack. So bad is this affliction that I actually seldom go shopping. I avoid the malls at all cost, only venturing into their corridors when I spot a can’t-live-without online or in the pages of a magazine.
When shopping, they say, it is good to have a voice of reason with you. Someone to talk you down when the heels are too high, the dress is too short, the ruffles are too much. Anyone I have ever taken shopping with me is one of these mediators, these diplomats, for the simple fact that when you say no, I say yes. The very shape of your lips forming the word incites a rebellion that starts in my chest and sleeks up to my head, making it feel light, bright. It makes me high. And that is the long and short of it.
When someone says “… but is it practical?”…
It’s like they’ve dropped something effervescent into my heart.