I know the h-word is a bad word (at least when you have a wee one), but I hate shopping. Everything about it. The driving, the parking, the other shoppers, the people asking you if you need help, the trying on, the deciding, the budgeting. It's all awful. I can't honestly remember the last time I purchased anything new -- well, my friend took me maternity clothes shopping, and that's probably it. Pretty much everything else I own is either 20-years-old or a hand-me-down.
But yesterday ... I consumed. I shopped.
Not only that, but I bought a twenty-four-dollar candle. Seriously. How completely irresponsible is that?
Let me explain.
Anthropologie. I know, I know. It's totally targeted towards thirty-year-old women, and none of us can actually afford to shop there. Occasionally, we'll find an orange dress or a green cape on sale that finds its way into our homes. Mostly, however, it's a place to walk in, inhale deeply, and wonder why your house doesn't feel anywhere close to as cozy as Anthropologie feels.
I went there yesterday. I bought an overpriced cardigan and a scarf (both from the sale room). But I paid retail (the horror!) for a candle.
It occurred to me that just breathing deeply at an Anthropologie store is soothing to the soul (yes, yes, yuppiest blog ever), and that smell is just so comforting. It brought me immediately back to Edinburgh, where I popped into the George Street store multiple times a week. In my defense, it was on the way to pretty much everywhere I went, and I never bought anything anyway. But that smell just relaxed me.
And so I convinced myself that the $24 spent on whatever candle they burned in-store (Scent: Volcano!) would be money well-spent. Like, therapy. I mean, it's cheaper than a co-pay, and it definitely lowers my blood pressure.
I don't feel completely guilty because I used a visa gift card from two birthdays ago (I'm a saver, folks!). But still ... I totally got sucked in by the Anthropologie psychologist store-planners, I know.
My house smells amazing though.
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