Slow Shopping – now there’s an oxymoron, right? In Praise Of Slow author Carl Honoré noted that as long ago as the 1830s, the French writer Alexis de Tocqueville blamed our shopping instinct for jacking up the pace of life.
No more is this true than the month of January, when after the gift buying frenzy of December, many still feel the need to plunge themselves into the pursuit of new goods. If you really need to buy a new suit or TV, hey, the sales can be perfect. But to wander through the nauseous sea of people, thumping music, bright lights and shelves heaving with the vague notion of picking up a bargain – does anybody actually enjoy it?
While I am a dedicated follower of fashion, and religiously read glossy tomes dedicated to fashion, interior design and lifestyle, I actually hate the act of shopping, much like someone who watches Nigella Lawson, reads Jamie Oliver and then microwaves a Pot Noodle.
Blame it on the horror of working at the Mall Of America and later Harrods (arguably the world’s largest temples to consumerism) during sales time, where I saw grown adults and professionals behaving not unlike primates or small children.
A fashion editor friend recently confessed she only heads to Net-a-porter for a few key items, with the rest of her wardrobe made up almost entirely from charity shops, not because she can’t afford anything else (far from it) but because it’s one place she actually enjoys shopping.
While you rarely can go into a charity shop and find exactly what you’re looking for, whether it’s a new coat or sofa, the serendipitous nature of charity shops ensure that if you find something you like, you’ll consider it a treasure, a one-off and attribute value to it, no matter how much (or little) it actually cost in monetary terms. Same goes with buying vintage, swapping through friends or websites, or even buying from an independent boutique which places an emphasis on unique treasures, not fast fashion or design. This is when shopping really is a pleasure, and when shopping becomes Slow.
