I’VE LOST MY SHOPPING MOJO

Anniki Sommerville - 31 Mar 15

Looking back on it I used to be a pretty vain, superficial person before I had a child. I spent an inordinate amount of time on the Whistles website. I perused the beauty columns looking for a solution to saggy faces. I loved marching up and down Oxford Street. I always felt slightly sick afterwards at the amount of money I’d thrown away (does anyone need a designer eyebrow gel?) but this was how I spent my free time. I studied articles about face cleansing with the same intensity as a student studying for their A’levels. I spent a fortune on getting my hair to look like no money had been spent on it at all.

These were the things that were important to me.

Then I became a Mother and something changed. I no longer enjoyed shopping. And on the rare occasions when I made it to the beauty counters I found myself feeling irritated when the consultant lectured me about my large nose pores. I flicked through magazines and didn’t stop till I got to the end. I looked at the glossy covers and thought ‘tossbag’ instead of feeling a sense of envy. It was as if I could suddenly see through the charade.

It was like that bit in the early hours of the morning when everyone is still in the club dancing, then the bright lights come on, and you see the guy you thought was gorgeous  looks like a melted candle with buck teeth. Now whenever I peered into shop windows I heard a sad, nihilistic, Joy Division soundtrack. The magic had gone. I’d lost my shopping mojo.

I don’t want to come over as a patronising bastard. My retail-based epiphany could have been brought about by a whole range of things. And it’s not that I think people without children are vain, superficial people obsessed with the cut of their trousers. It just seems that having a child changed my mind-set and clothes, make up and shopping went onto the back burner and stopped feeling relevant.

Part of this might have been down to the fact that I was huge. A month after my daughter was born I was the same weight as a baby elephant. Clothes weren’t appealing chiefly because I never wore them. I lived in a grey dressing gown (I’d bought a fancy floral one for my hospital stay. I laugh now when I think about that dressing gown. I really thought it would cheer me up. What a fool! ) but no this one was grey and it had formula stains on the shoulders. I felt so tired that I used it to wipe food on and the sleeves to blow my nose. It was a giant wet wipe which I wore twenty- four hours a day. Fashion and all that jazz didn’t mean much post -birth.

But then I managed to shift the weight gradually. I ordered a few clothes online. But things weren’t the same. I had fallen out of love with consumer culture. I didn’t get the same butterflies whenever I bought something new. Even buying things for my daughter didn’t make me feel good.

Then about a week ago I had a day off work, without my daughter (a TREAT!) and I went into town. I spent most of the morning in Liberty, Selfridges and Top Shop (even if I am now the oldest person in there). I was waiting for the familiar high to come back. But it didn’t. Yes it was great to be on my own and fancy-free. I loved seeing all the latest stuff and the new restaurants. I even tried bone broth that had been bubbling away for twelve days on the trot (why is everyone talking about this stuff so incessantly?) but eventually the Joy Division soundtrack started up.

I saw things unfold in slow motion. I noticed how sad and depressed people were. Even the people who’d just blown a monthly mortgage payment on a handbag looked blue. My brain had been reprogrammed. I was a communist. I wanted to shout at people, get them picking fruit and singing rousing songs about the power of the collective. I wanted to go camping and see nature and feel grass between my toes. I picked up a pair of culottes and instead of thinking ‘Cool!’ I kept thinking how silly they were, how they were just really short trousers and were way too expensive. I was my Mum! But a communist version.

So what to do? It seems to me that having a child must have something to do with this epiphany. It has re-set my priorities. I can see that buying stuff doesn’t make you happy. I’ve realised (maybe everyone else knew it all along) that fashion and make up are fun but not going to change your life. A depressed person wearing culottes is still depressed. And a foundation isn’t going to make you feel better if you’ve shouted at your daughter for putting swim-pants on over her trousers.

But yes I still like to dress up. And I can be a sucker for a cream that tells me it’ll wipe ten years off my face. I bought some silver brogues this week and felt a bit of that familiar high coming back. But it’s like a romance that is wearing off a bit. Like the first time your partner farts in front of you. And a bit of the magic goes.

I’m seeking out my happiness in other places instead. And culottes are just silly aren’t they?

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Image: Untitled (I Shop therefore I am) by Barbara Kruger (1987)

Anniki Sommerville

I'm Super Editor here at SelfishMother.com and love reading all your fantastic posts and mulling over all the complexities of modern parenting. We have a fantastic and supportive community of writers here and I've learnt just how transformative and therapeutic writing can me. If you've had a bad day then write about it. If you've had a good day- do the same! You'll feel better just airing your thoughts and realising that no one has a master plan. I'm Mum to a daughter who's 3 and my passions are writing, reading and doing yoga (I love saying that but to be honest I'm no yogi).

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