You know what they say about love, right? Roses, chocolates, tuxedos and serenades?




Forget about it.

I recently fell in love with a tulle – whaddaya know, huh? – dress. It’s off-shouldered, it’s got polka dots, it’s perfect. It’s also black, which is the only no-no in it.

So when my parents went out the other day to offer themselves a new coffee machine, I asked them to drop by the store and ask if the dress was available in any other color. I just couldn’t get it out of my mind. My mom called me from the store, said the black was the only one available at the moment. She asked “so, want to me to bring you an S?”.

I thought back to my No-Buy Month. But for a moment, there, I pictured her getting home with the dress in a lovely, huge paper bag. I imagined taking it off the bag, letting it unfold naturally as if it was a prom dress for a princess. Laying it on my bed and running my fingertips over the fabric just I could understand, finally, that it was mine.

It was like erotica on a tulle dress.

But for a second there, when I finally got a hold of myself and told my mom, over the phone “no, thankies, I’d rather not, No-Buy Month, remember?”, I craved for that feeling. The feeling of looking at something new, of exhibiting it in a wooden hanger among all your other possessions, of knowing it’s finally yours after all the turns you took in your bed and all the times you had to snap your fingers to stop thinking about it.

It’s love, let me tell you that. This feeling, people, it’s love.
And I miss it.

So note to selves, everyone... let’s try and fall in love with the next thing we buy, ok? Ok.
You know, so we don’t get home feeling empty and guilty and end up throwing our new baby into the closet.

No more impulse shopping for me.