Now that Thanksgiving is over it’s officially open season on shopping… marked by the annual fuster-cluck known as Black Friday. I’ve never actually gone shopping on Black Friday…. well, that’s not entirely true. I ventured into a mall one Friday about 25 years ago and I was so horrified and overwhelmed that I never did it again. Actually I’m not much of a shopper. I like buying, but I hate shopping. I find shopping to be intimidating and time consuming. And frustrating. I only seem to be able to expeditiously buy something that is completely unnecessary and functionally useless. I get a rush when I spy a pair of hot pink open toe Prada pumps that cost upwards of $500, and rarely think twice about indulging in them, but ask me to shop for and purchase something functional like a pair of sturdy Merrells or Wellies for daily dog walks in the woods and I get all snarled up in the practicalities of Gore-Tex versus waterproof, slip on versus lace up, and then begin to wonder if $100 is really a reasonable price for said item…
Christmas shopping also puts me in a tail spin. Every year on Black Friday I resolve to make my list, check it twice, and get all my purchases completed, wrapped and tied with a bow no later than December 20. It has never happened. Inevitably on the 23rd of December I am frantically cruising malls and specialty stores scrounging through the dregs of the merchandise looking for something suitable or closely resembling the requested item. Christmas Eve is for buying stocking stuffers and wrapping and stressing… made so much nicer with a few cups of heavily laced egg nog.
I’m not sure why I can’t seem to shop like normal people. Maybe I like sleeping in too much. The thought of standing in line at some God-forsaken hour in the dark and cold of a post holiday food coma so I can get a great deal on some over-hyped item is abhorrent. I think there is a practicality component as well. Shopping for Christmas gifts is something of a necessity (at least in my house) and like those Merrels and Wellies, I become stymied at the prospect of executing the deal. I dilly and dally and postpone to the last possible minute. Maybe I just work better under pressure.
My daughter, the organized and productive member of our family, gave me her list a few weeks ago. It is robust and detailed. She has included a Longchamp bag in a size and color that cannot be found A N Y W H E R E on the world wide web. I think she asked for this to test me.
This year my list, in true holiday spirit, is comprised of things that can’t be boxed or wrapped. (It’s also my subversive way of avoiding shopping). I want a wardrobe manager…someone who will organize my closet, make notes on the potential pairings and combinations of outfits, remind me what I have worn and when and whether it looked good or not, and then greet me every morning with a selection of outfits that are clean, stylish and totally appropriate for whatever the day throws at me.
I want a clone of me to do all the administrative and housekeeping work that piles up – and the driving and errand running too – so I can have days that are full of emotionally and intellectually rewarding activities.
I want an app to organize all my apps – one that will read my mind and know what I need to streamline, process, find, do, and, most importantly, teach me how to use my phone so I can stop asking my children.
And I’d really like to find that Longchamp bag…