SHOPPING can be many things—fun, therapeutic, frustrating and merry—but more than anything it can be enlightening and educational.
For example, shopping has improved my math skills to the point that my brain (which for many years wasn’t especially good with numbers) is practically a calculator—40-percent off a $69 sweater, no problem! That’s $27.60, which brings the sweater down to $41.40. I’ll take two, please.
Shopping, specifically years of trying on clothes, has made me realize that if something doesn’t fit in the dressing room, it’s still not going to fit when I get home—unless I lose 20 pounds in the car. In other words, shopping taught me to accept my body as it is in real life, not as it is in the fantasy world I constructed for myself.
And as unlikely as it may seem, shopping for good quality underwear caused me to have an epiphany about men: The qualities women look for in good underwear are the same qualities we should look for in a good man! Like a good bra, the man in our life should uplift us and make us feel perky and pretty. He shouldn’t fall down on the job like loose bra straps or gouge our shoulders like straps that are too tight. And like good underpants, he shouldn’t come unraveled at the first sign of trouble. Plus, he shouldn’t be cheap—no good comes from cheap underwear or a cheap man. Ugh.
I bring up the notion of shopping as an educational experience because we are in the midst of the holiday season. More of us than at any other time of year are spending our days and nights (some Target stores are open until midnight!) rushing from store to store, stalking door busters, finagling extra coupons for even bigger discounts, making our lists and checking and re-checking them.
Which means more than any other time of year we are in a position to learn something while shopping—to emerge from the holiday season smarter about buying, about relationships, about ourselves, others and maybe about what’s really important this time of year.
Shopping requires us to make decisions—small ones, large ones—and if we think about those decisions, they say a great deal about who we are and what we value.
We decide where to shop—local independent or national chain stores, online or brick and mortar, mall or downtown.
We decide how we will handle our money—cash or charge? Will we make a budget and if so will we stick to it? Will we look for discounts and free shipping to maximize our shopping money? Will we splurge on something special for someone special?
We decide for whom we will shop—parents, siblings, friends, spouse, boyfriend of two weeks (don’t do it), next door neighbor, hair dresser (he really wants cash). And perhaps most important, we decide the spirit with which we shop.
Are we shopping because we genuinely want to give something special to people we like, or are we shopping out of obligation. A frenemy announces she’s gotten you something festive and even though you’d rather eat mistletoe than get her a gift, you head back to the store.
Are we shopping for gifts that recipients really want, or are we giving them gifts we want—in other words, are you giving your husband a diamond bracelet or buying your wife a La-Z-Boy?
Several years ago I was friends with a woman who prided herself on being an excellent shopper, finishing her holiday shopping early in the season and entertaining the rest of us with great stories of the great bargains she’d managed to snag.
Then one day I went shopping with her. And I decided that despite her knack for finding good stuff on sale, she wasn’t a good shopper—mainly because she put very little thought into the gifts she bought. Never once did I hear her pick up an item and exclaim that it was just the right thing for someone because he or she would love it.
She made her decisions based almost exclusively on price. An orange hoodie marked down to $18? Bingo! She’d buy it for her sister-in-law—even though she’d never known her to be a fan of orange hoodies and even though she could have found something else for $18 that would have been better and more thoughtful.
I went home disappointed knowing someone I had respected and liked a great deal put no effort into the gifts she bought. As much as I tried to tell myself that it’s the thought that counts, I felt sad for the people on her list. Did they know she didn’t really care?
And that’s when I realized probably the most important shopping lesson of all.
It’s not the thought that counts. It’s how much thought we put into the thought.
Otherwise, it’s not a gift. It’s just stuff.
Georgea Kovanis / Detroit Free Press