When Fabulous mag tweeted earlier this week about the real cost of lunch, it got little moi thinking…
Realising you could have bought a pair of designer heels with the amount you've spent on lunch in the past month. Yes, that.—
Fabulous mag (@Fabulousmag) March 12, 2013
As you know, I am not one to advocate splashing the cash on designer wears but in this case there might be some merit. Exercising frugality to reward yourself with something special is not new. Even as children we’re encouraged to save our pocket money to treat ourselves to the toy we want.
In my case it was Barbie’s Dream House, oh how I wanted my blonde beauty to parade around her own mansion. But, alas it was never to be. Too many mix-ups from the newsagents down the road meant my savings never amounted to anything more than a couple of coins languishing in the bottom of my Hello Kitty money box.
Pick’n’mix may have been replaced with a penchant for artisan deli sandwiches but my spending habits remain. The daily trickle from your purse quickly amasses to a sizable sum and it’s not until you take stock do you realise the true error of your ways.
Lesson learnt and hard cash now sitting in your bank, making a guilt free, luxury purchase is something us champagne taste, lemonade pocket shoppers can grow accustomed to. For me, said luxury purchase would be a handbag and in the words of my beloved Carrie Bradshaw:
“I’m thinking balls are to men what purses are to women. It’s just a little bag but we feel naked in public without it.”
A handbag is an extension of a woman’s body, it contains our life and if chosen wisely can last us for years.
A friend of mine bought a Chanel number a few years ago for £1500.00 and it still resides in its wrapping, in its box, on top of her wardrobe. What, pray tell, is the point? They are meant to be enjoyed and a worn-in handbag looks loved.
If you are spending a month’s salary on something I expect it to withstand the drudge of daily use and last a life time! That would be my justification anyway; an investment to see me through to my dying day, something to cherish and feel proud of.
Which is all well and good, but unless I stop gorging on gourmet sandwiches and learn to pack a lunch there will be no reward for me to have to justify.