Everywhere you go, there’s a store…or within proximity anyway. Shopping is a way of life and for some like myself, it IS life. No, I do not have a problem with shopping. I just have some maxed out credit cards and admirers from banks. Working for The Shopper’s Guide is pretty fabulous. I have developed a sense of refinement and a greater appreciation for our materialistic society. People think I might have some voids in my life, but it’s not true… just some frivolous drama. With my recent breakup from my two year boyfriend, my retired parents vacationing in Aruba, and my best friend/roommate who sleeps with foreign guys all the time, who wouldn’t need an outlet? Let me just add that my friend’s men, with names like Esteban and Flabian, aren’t exactly the cleanest either. Honestly, she has more men in her week than there are days. And I’m the one with problems? I just like the sound of the cashier, the flashing red word SALE, and the loveliness of stuff. There’s a world of shopping to be explored, and shopping is more than a hobby or activity, but a way of releasing stress and living life.

As I walk through the palace like doors of the store, the fans blow in the perfect direction so that my hair flows out behind me in rivulets. Move over Naomi Campbell! The shiny marble floors glisten from underneath my snakeskin Versace pumps (which were on sale) that click-clack against my reflection. I enter the store and skim the crowd, my eyes sparkling with colors that bombard my senses and generate a tingling sensation, especially at my fingertips. Spotlights are on. Not on me, but on the shoes against the wall. The lights produce an angelic effect on the shoes as they call out to me to touch them, feel their delicate and fragile bodies. Those lovely heels, sandals, platforms, and pumps make me dizzy from euphoric happiness, from love. I feel like I had died and gone to heaven as my fingers graze the velvet, leather, buckles and straps.

I had to sit myself down on the plump prune loveseat that was cushioned for customers only. I felt so faint and my heart was throbbing against my chest because all the shoes were approximate perfection. How could I decide on just one pair? Maybe, I’ll just buy all of them. No, that would only bring me more secret admirers from the bank. I need to pick one, but it’s so hard. The shoes were different sirens, echoing my name and singing sweet sounds straight to my “sole.” Each shoe had situated its three inch heel on a mini glass box that emphasized its extravagance and “heightened” its appeal. The raving colored lights shone, reflecting just the right amount of awe off the polished walls, and into my glistening eyes. The glass windows let the blanket of light flood into the room and uplift the majesty of each shoe. Prisms of color, rainbows, had illuminated the store…

And then I saw it, the perfect pair of shoes! The pumps were magenta with a slither of gold speckled on its slender body. They were the quietest of the bunch, situated near the very end of the store, filled with mysterious beauty. Each shoe had a single golden buckle that “clicked” when I touched it. I had to get them! They would surely match one of the million outfits that I own. One thousand dollars, no problem! I’ll just write extra articles for the next issue… and try to get promoted. My fate has been fulfilled! I am joyous, I am victorious!
Shopping is so necessary for life, especially for women. It is a confidence booster, pleasure for your body and soul, and when shoe shopping…your sole (who wouldn’t want feet sweeter than honeysuckle?). I am a pure example of how shopping is a savior. If I had not purchased those pumps, my heart palpitations would have been worse, I could’ve had a hole in my heart, my OCD tendencies to compulsively shop (as some may call it) would have scared others, but you see…by finding those shoes, I lived. And because I shopped, I lived… with style.