Day 4: lazy Sundays and guilty friends

Mainly I had hoped to manage my fashion cold turkey by living vicariously through others. Shopping with my friends rather than for myself, and accompanying them on their multiple expeditions over the course of the year was how I was going to cope, how I planned to get through the dark, cold months without collapsing in a heap of deprived,  sad grumpiness. Other people's shopping was not something that I was aiming to detach myself from, far from it, I hoped to enjoy it, to revel in the delight of a new frock as much as they did themselves.

Unfortunately, such is the horror at what I am doing to myself, my friends seem unable to share their shopping experiences with me without being afflicted by some form of guilt. I can only imagine they view what I am doing as some warped form of self harm and as a result feel they must keep their quite normal weekend shopping activities as far from my consciousness as possible. Just as it is impolite to eat hugenormous slices of chocolate cake in front of someone on a diet, it is deemed inappropriate to talk about the wanton consumption of fashion in front of me.

This is a NIGHTMARE and these delightfully honourable intentions must be swiftly nipped in the bud if I am to cope with my year of self imposed, self harm.

Despite the potential personal distress that this could result in, the very fact that the reactions of those around me are so extreme is surely testament to the depth with which shopping has infiltrated our culture. Shopping, or maybe the ability to express oneself through fashion is tantamount to a rite of passage in 21st century Britain. I expect many, if not most young women can easily remember what they wore at key moments in their lives. I can remember where most of those clothes came from, when I bought them and how much they cost (is that weird?). Nevertheless, clothes in some way define the life I have led, the twists and turns of my extraordinarily twisty path.

Maybe what is the most alluring about buying new things is the possibility of almost infinite reinvention. Shops like Primani allow us to redefine ourselves on almost a weekly basis, maybe in a way that has not been possible for generations before us. In this culture of rapid change, the concept of remaining the same for any period of time appears truly terrifiying. My voluntary removal of myself from the highstreet, my abstinence from the opportunity to reinvent apparently strikes fear into the hearts of even the most cool, calm and collected ladies I know. Maybe thats because there is a perception that I have relinquished some of the control that we have come to take for granted?

Only time will tell how it will really affect the way I feel about myself, after all I have yet to run out of new clothes to wear. This Sunday evening saw me sporting a new maxi as we listened to the not particularly dulcet tones of those partaking in an open mic evening over a glass or two of pink wine. I had hoped to wear my new flip flops but it seems I am in desparate need of practice prior to wearing them outside of the confines of my home;