The Rack

Damn you, Nordstrom Rack and your "good" deals and telling me I saved hundreds and hundreds of dollars!

I don't own a Costco membership because I know people who go in for 138 rolls of toilet paper and come out with a bouncy house for their kids. Seriously. You can save $17 on a years supply of TP, but the budget killer is buying the stuff you never needed in the first place. While I safely avoid Costco, Nordstrom Rack is my kryptonite.

Friday after work, I went to Nordstrom Rack after work to get Claire-Adele a birthday present. She wanted a new tote bag to carry her books. She grabbed a bag I had bought for myself after I tore my ACL, and she claimed it was her own. Which is fine. She took it every day to school for the past two years. I had offered that we could go together and she could pick one, but she wanted me to get one for her.

I walked from the office to the Rack. Little did I know that the Rack is one block past my entrance to the bus tunnel. There is even a tunnel from the Rack directly into the bus tunnel. I do not have to step outside. I am sorry that I now possess this information.

So, I went to the Rack. I found two bags for Claire-Adele. I couldn't decide which one to get her, so I got both. I'm going to let her choose and I'll return the other.

As soon as I finalize my plan, I turn to walk to the checkout when lo and behold--there is it: the Tory Burch Bermuda bag. Me and a million other seventh grade girls in 1982 had a Bermuda bag. Not nearly as fancy as this one, but a bag with wooden handles and a canvas or corduroy bag part. They were not practical nor were they pretty, but man, everyone--EVERYONE--had one.

This one was awesome. It is made of Nubuck which is a fancy type of leather. It has these fantastic patterns and colors. Someone had finally made a gorgeous and practical Bermuda bag.

I needed it. I needed something this beautiful and fun that was such a marvelous upgrade to what I used to have when I was twelve, so much so that it doesn't resemble the original.

But then it was expensive. Crazy expensive. Even at 50% off, it was outrageous.  Anytime my brother or I had money to spend as a kid, my mother would ask us "Do you really, really, really want it?" just as we picked something out. It was a completely annoying exercise, as nothing--NOTHING--could pass that test ever. As a result, it put the fear of god in me to buy anything ever unless it was something that was essential or for someone else. I had no problem buying thousands of Legos for the Boy or 35 bottles of nail polish for Claire-Adele.

So here I was at the Rack with purses. I had "racked" up a massive bill and I never made it out of the hangbag section.

What is wrong with me? Why can't I resist?

Or, it is really a problem?

My year of on-the-job-training ended a month ago and converted to a regular job. Friday was the first day I've had a "real" paycheck since 2000. I can always tell myself I need nice stuff for work, but this was different.

I didn't need it.

I wanted it.

I really, really, really wanted it.

Decades later, my mother's advice came in handy. For years and years of not buying stuff that I didn't want and living frugally, I finally found myself in a time and place where I could afford to buy something just because.