Let's (not) go to the mall!

Yesterday after gym (good grief swimming kills me!) I briefly visited the mall to pick up a birthday present for my boss. It feels like forever since I've been into a mall. I've been avoiding them because a) it's January and I am flat broke b) I don't like malls very much (artificial lighting, large groups of pushy people and enclosed spaces combine to make me feel a bit trapped) and c) there are waaaay too many temptations at the mall.

I'm not a fashion follower by any description (I think brand names are a waste of time and until recently, when my colleague Roo "educated" me, had never heard of Ed Hardy, Jo Malone or Baby Phat etc). In fact, I bought my Matric dance dress (the South African version of your prom, for non-saffers) at a fleamarket for a whopping R350 (less than $50) and I do most of my clothes shopping at sales and factory outlets. I am also lucky to inherit clothes that my mom is done with. She has great taste and I look forward to her cupboard clean-outs with anticipation.

I like things this way. I enjoy my clothes and look just fine in my cheap ones (to my knowledge, that is). I get a certain satisfaction from putting together an outfit I think is nice without spending much money, and from the fact that I can spend a little cash on other things instead, like my garden, crafting, spoiling TSC, going out to dinner occasionally or nice birthday gifts for friends.

But, for some inexplicable reason, when I am broke (pretty much the end of every month) I have this wicked urge to go out and just blow money. On clothes, on homeware, on anything really. I don't (not because I have great self control but because I have no money to blow and haven't allowed myself the temptation of owning a credit card). But I want to spend. And so walking through a mall is pure torture.

Those retail magicians make the store windows seem so pretty, sparkly and inviting. And then they put up great big "SALE" signs on top of it all. They're usually red, which should be a warning. Red is the colour of danger in nature. Red is the colour for 'stop'; the colour of blood. But not in a mall. In a mall, red is the colour of "if you buy this record your life will be better".

And once you're actually inside a store, there are all sorts of clever tricks retailers have to make you spend your hard-earned bucks. Thankfully, there are people with too much time on their hands helpful folks out there who have dedicated themselves to exposing this treachery. For Sarah and Po, there is even an article by some guy meationing how Barry Manilow aids and abets these merchanisers and how not to be a hamster.

I have my own solution. And it is simpler, better and faster (unlike a certain bank): DON'T GO TO THE MALL.

That is all.