Why does it seem like I always do my blogs on a Sunday? Actually this week I have an excuse; I have been preparing for a job interview, which is on March 10th. In addition to my meticulous preparations I also went shopping for a new outfit yesterday. There are some occasions where a new outfit is a must and a job interview is one of them. This blog however is not about the job - no doubt next week's will explore how wonderfully or terribly this interview goes - but it is about one of my most loathsome activities: shopping.
Me writing (moaning) about shopping is not a new thing for this blog. in fact back in June I wrote a blog call Confessions of a ShopaHateIt where I talked about: how clothes are only made for people with a cup size of C-D and casually forget the rest of us exist, how horribly unorganised the mess is that people call "the sale section" or "budget shops" and lastly how shopping reminds me of how low my self esteem can get.
In addition to these things I also have a ridiculous guilt complex about shopping. I feel awful spending money on something when clothes when there are children starving in the world. I love the whole idea of fashion and the art form behind creating clothing but at the end of the day it isn't a huge priority in the grand scale of global issues. For these reasons I usually spend a long time debating whether or not something is good value and either end up buying it but feeling guilty or not buying through fear of feeling guilty. Call me wishy-washy but that is just the way I am.
The shopping trip to buy my interview outfit however went really well. I think the main reason for this was going with my husband. I am sure he will deny this but he is also my 'gay best friend' (hate on me hater for the politically incorrect statement). For example when I was trying on a purple undershirt in one shop the sales assistant was smiling at us because James said "That would look really good with a statement necklace". I kind of love that man to death.
I also think perhaps my shopping trip went well because I knew I needed to get something and I knew along what lines that outfit needed to be. I knew I wanted something formal but with a bit of colour: I ended up getting a really nice dark grey trouser suit with purple undershirt and statement necklace (as suggested by my amazing husband of course). The whole trip went well and quickly with me making decisive decisions until James said the dreaded words: "We should also get some new shoes for you as well".
DUN DUN DUN.
Whenever shoe shopping is mentioned this is when the panic sets in. I suddenly find myself looking around the shopping centre for the quickest exit points or trying hard to convince my shopping partner that my second-hand five year old boots that give me a leg rash aren't actually that bad after all. However James was quite adamant that new shoes were a must and so, slightly hyperventilating, we looked around a shoe shop.
I have always hated show shopping because my feet are a weird shape. My feet aren't flat but they look it because my ankles roll in. Due to this my little toes never fully developed properly and instead I have a weird extra bit of bone that grows from the side of my foot to compensate. As such heels are a definite no-no, which is a shame because a) if I could where them I would have a total heel fetish because I think they are so sexy and b) most boots have at least a kitten heel or, if they don't, they look like they are designed for some kind of unknown heavy duty woman's boot wearing event that has no concept of the feminine.
You will be pleased to know however that I managed to find a pair of boots that had neither a heel nor were heavy duty wear, though they do have trainer soles and rock solid linings... but then I had to compromise somewhere. With a pair of thick socks or some party feet I am good to go. Considering i have had the same pair f trainers for about five years I think I have done pretty well this weekend!
I am still a shopaNOTic rather than a shopaholic but hopefully my new outfit will help me win over my interviewers by showing them what a lovely professional young woman I am. Or some shit. You never know.
