WTF

What the fuck is wrong with me? It's all so clear now.

Thank you Lulu. You didn't do it intentionally--or perhaps you did... you sly thing--but you have definitely have made me come to realize the error in my ways.

I have been lusting after the momentary, futile highs and cravings of British treats. Did I forget I'm in the middle of a shopping wonderland? And more importantly, that I'm actually one of the sizes for which designers fashion stupid things like "Jeggings" in mind?

(side note, I secretly want designer jeggings and I don't judge you if you do too)

For every "pey-h" every "quid" every "tenner" I've spent on pre-packaged mush, I have missed out on the opportunity to rub those precious golden coins and pretty papered notes together for a new pair of boots. This year's winter coat.

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Not even food can satisfy me the way a clothing store can. Truly, I liken it to the feeling of chasing after a new boy. Except more fulfilling.

The anxiety, jitters, butterflies. They are all there as you ride the escalator, passing displays and wondering where you might wear that sharp little dress. Everything will be better once those gloves are in your hands, and nothing feels as nice as carrying your spoils out of the store in pretty bags. The more the better. The heavier, the bigger, the bulkier, the sweeter.

It's addictive.

Why did I ever give it up and switch to food? Oh, that's right. Food allures you into thinking you need it, it's good for you. It's economical because well, you have to eat something right? Spending money on clothes is wasteful; food is essential, they tell you. But, why would you ever spend $10 on a bad meal to-go when you could have a nice bangle from a vintage shop?

Food is fleeting but fashion is forever.