All My Gettings

I. cannot. stop. spending. money.

Here's the scenario. Because it's summer, I have more time to work. Because of that, I get these kinda astoundingly large paycheques. Well, large for me, not large in absolute terms. I sort of know that I should be saving this money in preparation for that whole moving-across-the-country-and-not-having-a-job situation. But, I can't do it. I just want shiny things, instead. Or soft things. Or pretty things. Or candy. My spending habits are reaching alarming levels.

To be fair, I've probably only spent about $300 in the past week. But still.

It started with these shoes, which I actually bought two weeks ago:

I was actually looking for a pair of black semi-casuals. I definitely did not need more brown shoes. But they were on a good deal! Slash, I could totally become a much less formal person, right?

Next up was my purchase of more bow ties. I don't even want to talk about this, so we'll just move on to the Red Balloon toy sale. Once a year, the store holds a sale where everything is 20% off. My nephew has a real obsession with this brainteaser thing I have and I was hoping to find something similar for him to play with when he visits my house. I found something. But I also found a large plastic bee, a card game, and a set of regular plastic playing cards. I restrained myself on some things, but not enough, clearly.

Then, last night, my friend twisted my arm while inside Banana Republic to buy two v-neck sweaters. This brings my total count of that type of clothing up to 29. Twenty NINE! Of course, I'm now bound, practically, to buying one more so I'll have an even thirty. Granted, they were crazy cheap for wool and cotton/cashmere, but still. Oy.

After that, the same friend totally was no help at keeping me from buying art prints. Art! I don't even have walls! I bought two prints from Pretty Little Pixel at the Arts Festival. You should check out one of the ones I bought here. I can justify this because I'm leaving Utah soon and this will be a cute little reminder of my hometown. See, this is how it works in my brain. This is part of the problem.

Then, today, I thought about that ark. The one I posted about here. It wasn't for sale last time I checked, but I went back today and it was. Goodbye, 125 bucks!

Then, I almost, almost, almost, almost bought these cufflinks:



I mean, otters? Cufflinks? Me? It's a perfect storm. However, I don't have a French cuff shirt. Or I didn't. I bought one on my lunch break. But, I still haven't bought the links. Which is silly. What am I going to do with the shirt without any cufflinks. But, I just can't bring myself to spend this money.

Which, I guess indicates I can stop spending money. But only for a minute. I'll probably cave by tomorrow and buy them. I need someone to stop me. Forcibly remove my cards form my posession, give a strict allowance, scold me for spending these money. Or, alternatively, I need to completely rework my approach to personal finances and be ok if my account doesn't have that huge, ridiculous cushion that makes me feel comfortable. I am perplexed and sickened.

But, as a bonus, I am perplexed and sickened around pretty things at least. And I've had some tasty food, too. So, maybe you shouldn't stop me. Not yet. Give me a couple more weeks, then you can start reminding me that I don't have a place to live yet in Salt City or that moving is going to cost more than I'm expecting or that I'm going to be working less than I am right now later in the summer because of family stuff. Or, you could just let my interal monologue do that. He's pretty good at beating me up over things like this.

Up until about two years ago, I hadn’t worn jeans for probably seven years or so. Nor had I bought a pair since…ever? I think it’s true to say that I’d never bought a pair of jeans, but if I had, it was years and years previous.

My aversion to wearing jeans is sorta complicated. Part of it is that I don’t find denim all that comfortable a fabric. It’s stiff and heavy and never dries if it gets wet (the last a real problem for spill-prone people like me). Also, jeans are what cool kids wear and me, definitely being not cool, figured it’d be better to not even try. Since, lack of effort is cool, right? Also, at age 17, I had a job at which jeans were first discouraged and then, with a slight promotion, explicitly prohibited. I also tend to only have one register of clothing, that of an oxford and chinos, with the recent addition of a tie. I like feeling like I’m dressed for practically anything I might find myself in. I am neither overdressed for casual scenarios nor underdressed for that awkward moment where you walk into a restaurant and realize that the clientele is a bit more done up than you anticipated. I'm dressed for work and for the theatre and for just flaneuring about town. And we all know how tricky it is to be constantly prepared for those last-minute debutante balls you get invited to.

Of course, I’m not dressed for all occasions. Chinos and oxfords don’t really make for the best duds if you need to suddenly run a distance or dash through tangled underbrush. Though, the only imaginable situations in which I’d be doing either of those on a whim are grounded either in emergencies or the apocalypse. Which is to say, if they arise, my habiliments will probably be the least of my worries.

But, two years ago I needed a pair of jeans. I needed them because I was attending a demolition derby. Of course, being me, the obvious spot to shop for these jeans was Banana Republic. I actually managed to find two great pairs of jeans for a combined total of under 30 bucks and had a delightful conversation during checkout with the girl ringing me up.

It went something like this:

“Did you find everything?”

“Yep, just needed the jeans. I don’t own a pair and I’m going to a white-trashy event, so I clearly Banana was the best choice for that.”

“What, are you going to a demo derby or something?”

“Um, actually? Yeah.”

So, I’ve owned these jeans for the last two years. I’ve worn them somewhat rarely (purchasing them did not really answer my other neuroses mentioned above), but I really like them. A lot. I think they’re flattering and, well, isn’t that a sufficient reason for liking them? I suppose they fall more on the comfy side of things, too. So, imagine my sad face when I discovered they have a hole forming. In the crotch. I don’t think I’m tough enough or sufficiently disheveled to pull off the ratty look. I’ve tried looking for new jeans the past few times I’ve gone out shopping, but nothing’s the same. None can live up to my now deteriorating pair. It looks like I’ll be going back to my pre-jean days.

Farewell, jeans. I’ll miss you.