The day started like many others, in panic at the lack of suitable items in my extensive wardrobe. Following the completion of my exhaustive, and arguably lengthy inventory I now recognise this as fallacy rather than fact. Opting finally for a pair of khaki shorts courtesy of 'the last shop' I got to work at 7am and was swept into a day of presentations. It seems that this sort of day may be a boon over the coming year as it represents a marvellous diversion of attention from the fears that are faced by a girl with no prospect of retail therapy.
As the working day drew to a close, the tell tale, spine tingling sound of metal on pavement, the sound that tells a girl that the heel has come off her shoe rang out across the work carpark. Now, on any normal day, this is a relatively stressful occurence, let alone the second day of a year of frugality. Whilst I can of course have my shoes reheeled it did start me thinking. Back before consumerism engulfed our very beings, one would have been more careful to ensure that more attention were paid to the care of belongings. Just because we can buy new things, it seems our we have forgotten that broken is not necessarily the end. Just because an item has a little ailment doesn't send it winging it's way to landfill.
Yes, if my shoes were Jimmy Choo or Manolo I would have exercised levels of care akin to that enjoyed by the Queen's corgis. Yet, for my beloved yet bargaineous M&S shooboots, I just didnt pay any attention, in the subconscious knowledge that they could easily be replaced. Why, and when I wonder did we completely forget that worth has little to do with value?
As I am sure you can imagine, such depth of thought forced me out to the pub to continue my musings over a glass of pink wine....
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