This Retail Therapy

I believe in relationship karma. I don't enter a new relationship with any of the same underwear or pajamas I had in the last relationship. For me, underwear carries the ghosts of boys from a past life. If you see me raiding Aerie this week, you'll know why.

Another thing I always do to move forward from a heartbreak is to buy myself something really expensive, really gorgeous and really unnecessary. A few broken hearts ago I strolled through Holts on Bloor Street laden with a handbag, my daily Starbucks latte, an army of tear stained tissues and my credit card. I found my way to Michael Kors and gave my heart to another man. This is where my personal theme of "breakup bags" began. A double strap, camel, gold and cappuccino coloured canvas bag perched itself on my limp arm and whispered, "It's okay sweetie. He can't hurt you anymore. I'll protect you." Thus began my relationship with my MK bag. It's been beat up over the seasons, but remains my go-to bag since it matches most everything I own. I'm an earth tones gal. My father hates when I wear black, he prefers earthy hues for his eldest daughter.

Last fall, I barely had to twist her arm to convince Rach that we (meaning I and therefore her) needed a trip to Yorkdale for the sole purpose of slamming down the plastic and forgetting about the latest heart turmoil. A fabulous Coach wallet, a dreamy new scent and my first Marc Jacob's bag ever dried up the tears and lead to an alarming call from Visa at work the next day. "Miss Major, this is the Visa Fraud Protection Department. We have some questions about the recent activity on your account. Could you answer some questions for us please?" Holy shit! I really know how to mend a broken heart and tear apart my credit at the same time. After assuring them that my card hadn't been stolen and that I had in fact blown THAT much cash in a single afternoon, I was confident that my new handbag would not only carry all my junk for me, but also accompany me on many new adventures for the purpose of finding true love.

This time, I'm considering an electronic gadget in place of a new breakup bag. After all, I do love all my handbags and a new toy would be more entertaining. Julia told me I have to treat myself last night while we were trying to figure out how to work her new berry. This phone comes with a DVD and a bijillion user manuals, yet neither of us could figure out how to send a text message from it. I can barely use the call waiting on my phone and I may be the last person on earth NOT to have a Blackberry, but today could change all that. I'm sure it will frustrate the shit out of me, make me regret my choice of abandoning my trusty qwerty keyboard slider phone and basically want to tear my hair out, but through that new phone angst I'll have temporarily forgotten about him. It's worth the monthly bill and irritation of programming a new mobile.

1 comment:

Mike said...

Good read. My therapy was buying condo, it worked!