Shhhhhhh! Do not tell the husbands!
Jun 30th, 2011
by Alexis Novak
Once a week there is a nighttime knock on my door, followed by an exchange of quizzical looks between my husband and me, and then I sprint to the door to mouth to the tall, familiar man on my doorstep, “My husband is home. Come back later”.
Thank God my UPS man just gets me.
The hiding of packages and bags is an art form bestowed upon me by my mother, the fashionable and well-shopped Donna Diva who knew all her UPS men on a first-name basis. My mom fondly retells her first mail-order story from the 1960’s when she was a sixth grader longing for a contraption that held up her school knee socks. (Catholic school girls have limited self-expression by day). From there she was hooked on mail-order shopping and I followed suit. When I was in high school, our nighttime routine involved perusing catalogues in bed together. From J.Crew to VSC to Boston Proper and the one with a romantic story per garment; we loved to browse for ideas to recreate looks.
My mom had many secret shopping skills. She left bags in her trunk until the coast was clear to transfer. She had packages delivered to work. She learned from a savvy neighbor how to do the charge/send while traveling so your husband wouldn’t ever see your purchases and the item comes conveniently to your house after you’re settled back in. Genius. Call it financial infidelity or fun, most women I know employ sneaky tricks to avoid Husband Tweakage.
As my mom kicked plastic bags under her bed at the sound of the garage door going up, my mail order habit grew and I learned to track down any item in Vogue that I desired. I still have a pair of Anne Klein kitten heels with laser cut pink and red leather flowers that I ordered from New York as soon as I could save my Steinmart paychecks to cover the price tag.
Then two things happened to my shopping life that altered it forever. The internet was born and one could shop 24 hours a day in their pajamas and, I married my sweet and fiscally-conservative high school friend who majored in Finance. Of course he was madly charmed by me, but not as in love with my spending habits, so the packages moved to my car trunk. That was over a decade ago.
I have learned to budget, but I still consider shopping online my fave sport, even if it is only vitamins or kid’s crap or sale stuff. Occasionally something fun for me creeps into my online shopping cart like make-up.
The reward that online ordering offers is the ultimate Pleasure Delay. How boring to shop at a mall when the transaction is quickly finished and the shopping high swashed. From the click of the Place Order button until the goods arrive at my house, I wait with anticipation for the beautiful sound of the UPS truck brakes screeching before my house. Then I slice open. And sample. And bask. In total privacy. I love to shop alone, without my dear husband lurking for the price tags.
Family folklore has it that my mother later divorced over an argument involving her purchase of $500 red leather boots. I choose a different path. If I can’t have Carrie Bradshaw’s closet and Mr. Big then I am more interested in staying married to my man. That doesn’t mean however, that I have to totally stop seeing my UPS man.
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Written by Alexis Novak • 1 Comment
Marilynn Sat, Jul 2, 7:23pm