Having overdosed on the shopping mecca that is Milton Keynes and returned, laden with bags and baggage alike to the land of Oxford, I was growing rather tired of January sales. Cornmarket Street failed to arouse much interest in me - somehow posters advertising cheap ringbinders just don't appeal as much as bargain clothes.
However - panic not, I am still female after all - I must have made it all of 10 metres down Queen Street before being irresistibly sucked into Miss Selfridge, shortly followed by Monsoon. I wasn't meant to be clothes shopping; I was strictly in town for practical purposes and on a time limit. But you know how it goes - the dreamy spires and all that, and you feel like life is too short, the whim of the moment is governer of the mind and - ooh, 70% off all shoes - well, whoever said consumerism is passé?
I ended up only buying a t-shirt, but with great plottings to come back when I have more time to try things on. I won't, of course - my sensible side will tell me I wouldn't buy the items if they didn't seem like such a good deal, that I'd be better off buying the expensive trousers I've yearned after for several months than three cheaper pairs that I don't want as much.
But hey, who listens to their sensible side so early in the year?
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