retail therapy

One of the drawbacks to living on my kind of budget for most of the year in London is that I shop like a tai-tai on amphetamines whenever I'm back in Singapore.

Just a few hours in town has resulted in one book, two magazines, two shirts and one shawl. And another three books borrowed from the library. And cappucinos and iced-chocolates. And browsing through the shelves of the new shop with beautiful notebooks/journals/photo-albums/etc at jaw-droppingly exorbitant prices. And a whopping car park charge of close to ten dollars (the last time I ever paid that sort of money for parking was when I valet-ed my car at a hotel).

After all my retail deprivation, it felt really good to be dazzled by the bright lights and rows and rows of consumer goods. The colours! The designs! The conversion rates!

Shopping gives such a sense of control and empowerment. But when I think about how easy it is for me to announce that I would be shopping even though I'm earning nothing at all, I am humbled by my apparent ability to spend.

And as I said to my sister as we walked out of a store, 'Aren't we so lucky that we can go shopping like this and only worry about remembering the right PIN number for my card?'.