Opinion

Anita Robinson: We have an insatiable desire to acquire 'stuff'

Shopping is now an end in itself, often the entire object of an expedition
Shopping is now an end in itself, often the entire object of an expedition Shopping is now an end in itself, often the entire object of an expedition

It’s Friday, late morning. I’m standing in the middle of a large busy store crowded with rails of cut-price clothing, racks of discounted shoes, shelves of half-price handbags, marked down jewellery and watches and heavily reduced toiletries.

On an upper floor are kitchenware, bedding, soft furnishings and china, similarly bargain-priced.

The place is hiving with customers, mostly female, but several male and they are indulging in an exercise that’s rated among the top three leisure pursuits of our time – shopping. Most of them are here, not out of need or necessity, but for the sole purpose of acquiring ‘stuff’, for this is the home of the impulse buy.

Who was the marketing genius who first realized that a thriving business could be founded entirely on the premise that high-end goods rejected at first retail cost could be bought in bulk, slashed in price and offered to satisfy the aspirational cravings of the lower orders for designer labels in a never-ending sale? A Clements Ribeiro jacket for a tenner? Bring it on!

Shopping is now an end in itself, often the entire object of an expedition, be it into town for a family tour of the local mall, or ‘ladies who lunch’ who like to combine it with a little retail therapy.

As for holidays abroad – never history and architecture of the place – what are the shops like? Tourists can’t go home without a little something as a memento. It’s what straw donkeys, Mexican sombreros and Alpine snow globes are made for and we rarely return empty-handed.

We’re an acquisitive lot. It’s the lure of the new, the novel, whether it be clothing, homeware, gadgets, gizmos or knickknacks. We see it, we like it, we want it – and after a brief wrestle with conscience (or not, as the case may be) we’ll have it. Some people are in their element poking about in second hand or charity shops for what are charmingly named ‘pre-loved’ items.

Who can resist a sign reading ‘Antiques and Collectables’, all of which, be they valuable or tat, are basically things other people have discarded? I’m constantly amazed by television programmes like Bargain Hunt and Flog It, that people buy damaged or broken things. Lately, a telescope with no lenses went for hundreds at auction as a ‘statement piece’.

Mind you, I’m a woman who once bought a three-legged display cabinet which had to be screwed to the wall in order to stay upright and a vase of flowers placed permanently in front of its missing limb. And what about the on-screen antiques experts dashing about the country in vintage cars buying and selling old railway lamps, battered leather suitcases, meerschaum pipes and writing slopes? In an LED light lit, lightweight luggage, non-smoking digital ages – who needs them? Ah – they’re ‘statement’ pieces.

It was pure coincidences that the late Loving Spouse’s office overlooked just such a well-known cut-price outlet. Despite his disapproval of my profligate shopping habit, he’d ring me to report the arrival of a big lorry making a delivery of new stock. I’d be in there like a ferret the following morning to get first dibs – and he wasn’t above paying the odd visit himself.

Lest you think women are the only impulse buyers, the mature male let loose unattended among rails of gents’ clothing offers, is likely to come home with age-inappropriate trousers or a fleece with a logo on it. Perhaps, later in life than is wise, he decides to essay denim. Low-rise jeans, so attractive hanging off the lissome hip bones of a slim twenty-something, when cradling a middle-aged paunch give the unfortunate impression of a man trundling a pumpkin in a wheelbarrow.

Nor is he to be trusted alone in the gadgets and gizmos aisle, which is how we acquired three coffee percolators, none of which ‘perked’ satisfactorily; four corkscrews, one of which inflicted grievous bodily harm and a number of other anonymous items furtively carried direct to the garage.

Mutually guilty, it’s best to civilly agree we’re merely obeying the retail imperative that’s become the norm. Result? Marital harmony……