I do not do a lot of shopping anymore. I used to be a bit of a shopaholic and a designer slut. I had the lot – Louis Vuitton handbags, Jimmy Choo and Salvatore Ferragamo shoes in their own room stored in the original boxes. A whole walk in wardrobe full of Chloe, Versace, Armani, Yves Saint Laurent, Dolce and Gabbana, Diesel, Gucci, Tom Ford, you name it. I was on first name terms with all of the store managers on Bond street in London and the marina in Puerto Banus. Basically if I was not looking for a chance to wear it, I was out buying it. And then I stopped.
I found after a while that spending a fortune and all of my time and effort on clothes became less and less interesting to me. And, ultimately it was diminshing returns to try and keep up with the sheer va va voom of the sexiest escorts Marbella can offer that I was working with while running my escort agency. And besides, I am actually a quiet little geeky nerd deep down. So I down sized, moved to the country and into a tiny house. Literally a tiny house – it is only four hundred square feet – but absolutely perfect for me. The clothes and shoes went to charity or into storage for the odd occasion that I would use them. And I did not miss them at all.
And then this weekend, for the first time in about three years, I visited the West End of London. Harrods, Harvey Nichols, Selfridges and all the shopes and boutiques on Bond Street and the Kings Road. Oh my God. It was nearly too much for me. A bit like a cocaine addict hitting up an eight ball of cocaine rather than a couple of lines – not that that is a good idea in itself of course. Anyway, zero to hero in a second was nearly too much for me. Basically I went to London and had a storegasm. But here is the really interesting things that made me proud of myself; I went out looking for one item. And I kept going until I found it. And then I stopped. The rest of the browsing and window shopping was just that. And having done it, I have done it. And I have no desire to do it again for a long time.