In debt to fashion
If you can’t afford to get the washing machine fixed, how can you afford that new pair of shoes?
I don’t know if any of you suffer from the disease known as relative-spend blindness, aka splashing out on fashionable luxuries when you don’t have enough cash to cover the basics.
Most of us have experienced it to a small degree, but I’m talking about the full-blown mucksweat-inducing condition, which, I am confident, shares many symptoms with compulsive gambling.
This is how it works: you lie awake at night seriously stressing about the sewerage tax you forgot to pay, the bill for getting the car serviced and the washing machine that needs replacing. Then, the next day, you find yourself in a shoe shop trying on a pair of exquisite boots that cost the same as the washing machine. And what d’you know? Ching, ching.
Will that be debt accruing at a terrifying rate for something you can’t possibly justify? Might that be you blotting out your pressing financial obligations and pretending you’re J.Lo?
Well, yes, as a matter of fact. “Hello, my name is Ambrosia and I’m a Fashion Debt Freak. And March, as you might imagine, is a pretty bad month for me.”
FDF syndrome is not the same as shopaholism, by the way. Shopaholics are just crazy, needy people who buy anything that moves.
We FDFs merely have the ability to switch off the common-sense/self-preservation part of our brain once in the presence of clothes or the other essentials of a glamorous lifestyle. We will panic about being unable to afford to replace the boiler and then, on impulse, book a weekend in London that costs the equivalent amount.
We cancel dental appointments to save £60, walk instead of drive, cut down on phone calls, and then (because that stuff is all in the other compartment of our brains) we will buy a dress that costs 300 quid and meet friends for dinner at an outrageously expensive restaurant.
Naturally, when the credit-card statement comes in, we can’t quite believe it. I mean, how old do you have to be to recognise that some things are simply out of your league?
This is, of course, the whole raison d’etre of fashion and lifestyle magazines – the line between fantasy and reality. Some people look at them and think: “Hmm, nice.” Others, like me, look at them and think: “I’ll have that… don’t tell me the price, la, la, la, la… I want to look like Kate Moss. Shut up, shut up. Oooh, and look shoes on holiday…”
If there’s anyone else out there who remotely identifies with this syndrome, I think I may have found a cure. Just don’t go near the shops. And don’t answer the phone. Stay indoors instead and write a list of all the things that could go wrong with your house, car, appliances and so on. Because they will, and when they do, you’ll be stony-broke… with a nice pair of Jimmy Choo boots and a tan.
Bags of style
ALONG with shoes, I am also a self-confessed bag addict, but I hate bags with logos plastered all over them (tacky, especially when the rest of your outfit is cheap). So no Louis Vuitton, Gucci or Fendi for me. I like them to be big, leather and practical, but unfortunately they usually come with hefty price tags too.
The Hermes Birkin bag has always been popular with A-list celebrities, but it also comes with an A-list price (around £2,250, and there’s usually a two-year waiting list). Mulberry and Luella Bartley created the ultimate power bag in sleek leather with multiple straps (to die for), but at £595 it was slightly out of most people’s league.
But I will let you into a secret: on one of my trips to London recently I came across a handbagoholics’ heaven in the King’s Road called Vanilla. They copy (okay, are influenced by) many of the aforesaid bags in gorgeous leather and fabulous colours, and at a third of the price! Believe me, they’re good enough to fool any fashionista, and if you don’t get to London often they are also available to buy on the internet at www.vanilla-paris.co.uk
If you want to stick closer to home, J by Jasper Conran at Debenhams also does a Birkin-style bag in three hot colours for spring — red, chocolate and white — for a mere £50. Cheap at half the price!
