Have I lost the will to shop? Perhaps, at least for clothing. I feel something approaching guilt (especially in this season when we are reminded to share with the less fortunate) in saying that I have too many clothes. It’s true. My closet runneth over. One of these days I need to head over to the clothing drive and donate a pile of stuff.
My shopping strategy for the past couple of years has been to create a wardrobe consisting of a few basic items, but in multiple colors. (I think some part of me wants to recreate a kind of satellite Banana Republic in my apartment, down to the furniture and matching wooden hangers.) So have I finally reached, dare I say exceeded, that wardrobe nirvana? That tipping point of zen-like sartorial contentment? Maybe. I own more than a manageable number of jackets, sweaters, shirts, and pants all in a palette of personally suitable colors. I found myself at the mall yesterday, thinking, do I really need anything else?
Oh wait. Yes, a pair of dark brown oxfords. There’s always something. But in any case, I definitely need to prune my wardrobe, if only to clean up my apartment. If only to make room for more clothes.
These days my shopping habits have shifted toward all things domestic, which explains my recently intensified obsession with Ikea, Pottery Barn, and their ilk. Anything to organize my place, and make it more liveable. To wit, I’m still excited over the gleaming new Calphalon saucepan and skillet I bought a few weeks ago. I admit, it may seem a little boring (unböring?), but it’s wonderful when a small bit of happiness is found in nothing more than a plush rug or a sturdy bookshelf.
The other day I took an online quiz to determine my ideal Lord of the Rings mate. It’s Sam. I believe it all hinged on the question of occupation: “What does he do?” Answer: “Frodo.”