I have become truly American. My favorite form of recreation is spending a day at the mall. “Just looking” I tell myself – but I always come home with some new acquisition. No, I’m not a hoarder. I don’t want things just to have them and I don’t buy trinkets or useless items. I carefully analyze what my needs are – and sometimes I even indulge in a want providing it’s purple but no, my house does not look like a warehouse as some of my acquaintances’ homes are.
I have a system as all extremely organized people have. Once I have my interior decorated to my satisfaction after each relocation I leave it alone, except for an occasional vase I can’t resist – but (And here is the key) for every item I bring home I discard whatever I have replaced – and in my defence, it does not happen very often – except, yes there is always an exception, for clothes. I am addicted, what else can I say.
I love, fashion. I love fabric. I love a good fit, which is a challenge at my age and size (so of course, when I find something on sale that fits it is hard to resist) and I looooooove color, especially purple. Since so many people my age blame their love of things on the fact that they went through the depression, maybe I can use the same explanation for my addiction to clothes. For the first ten years of my life I wore one thing at the time – and whatever garment my mother would scrape together was made from old army blankets left behind by some unfortunate soldier who no longer needed anything. Never mind if it was summer or winter – and, of course the color was always a gray or faded green.
So, the other day I returned from a shopping trip with three new tops – I have a closet full of tops but I decided a few years ago that if a new top makes me happy and fits into my budget why not ? Now I had to put three used ones into my charity box because that is the rule – a rule I made myself but that’s o.k. – I love rules and I love an uncluttered house, including my closet.
I will never become a hoarder because I can enjoy these things as long as they give me pleasure and then let go of them without feeling deprived since I know I will always have enough as long as I keep observing the need versus want rule.
So, I can blame my addiction on the war and my indulgance in the addiction on my affluent American life. Isn’t that what we addicts do ? blame it on others or on circumstances.
Oh my, is this another area in my psyche I have to work on ? As Scarlet O’Hara said in “Gone with the Wind: I will think about it tomorrow”.