Impulse buying
Yoghurts, rugs, chairs
Last weekend I was at the Big Tesco, ostensibly to buy the jumbo box of cat food that his royal catness Kimchi prefers. But also because it reminds me of my mum. During the last six months of her life when she lived with me, going to the Big Tesco was an outing.
I’d push her in a wheelchair, a basket balancing precariously on her lap, swerving suddenly to follow the direction of her pointing finger. Usually we’d end up in the yellow stickered mark down section, debating whether she really needed a fish pie ready meal about to go out of date (no) or some wilting bags of watercress (also no).
My mum was always careful with money spent on herself, although generous with others. Raising four children on limited funds had not been easy for her and that deeply ingrained sense of frugality never wore off, even in later life when she was more financially comfortable.
We’d had an odd upbringing, struggling financially for most of my childhood, but with some family who were very well off, which meant we sometimes had access to amazing holidays and later on were offered life-changing opportunities. I went to private school paid for by extended family but didn’t like having school friends over because we never had any food. But we had a swimming pool in the garden. It was confusing.
When things were really bad, I had to put 50p’s in a meter in the garage to keep the electricity on. Excruciatingly embarrassing for a teenager whose wealthy best friend (who had a pool, tennis court and horses) has come over after school.
My mum’s frugality worked its way into my bones. Those formative years created in me a scarcity mindset that never really left. I have to work very hard to remember that I am ok, that there is enough. I am rarely impulsive when it comes to spending, at least on new things. Secondhand is another story. More on that later.
I’ve always been considered and measured in the way I spend money, preferring the enduring thrill of a bargain over the short lived rush of an extravagant purchase. One of a small number of exceptions is spending extravagantly on meals, as I did recently with my daughter for her birthday at Himi, where every single bite was spectacular, a work of art.
Back at Big Tesco last weekend, I impulse bought an 18 pack of Petit Filous.
Not exactly bank-breaking stuff. But still a moment of madness for a woman whose children have left home, who lives alone and does not need 18 yoghurts, even tiny ones. I got caught up in memories of both my own and my children’s childhood and our love of the creamy little pots. Lured also by the ‘special offer’ that would’ve appealed to my mum had she been with me, I gleefully pounced on them in the cold section.
Needless to say, six days later, 14 little pots remain in the fridge.
But when it comes to shopping secondhand, my latent impulse buyer wakes up. I cannot pass up certain things found at charity shops (a particular type of jug or vase, a painting, a gold rimmed side plate) and I should probably stop searching for chairs on Facebook Marketplace.
I’m currently shopping for two different jobs - one is a photo shoot where I hope to hire most of what we need from prop houses. The other is a design job for a new local business and a fair amount of bargain hunting is required. With budgets in mind for both projects, and time in short supply, my decision making has had to be quick.
I’ve developed what I think of as a considered impulsiveness. If the price is right for a pair of chairs that I think will work for the local business job, then cash is quickly exchanged for fear of losing out on this ‘one off’ item. Worst case, I sell them on again if they don’t work out.
Same for smaller items, styling props as I think of them. If they don’t work out, they are easier to re-home, sell, or store and save for another job.
Lighting on the other hand is proving less agreeable to impulsiveness. Will this vintage sconce need re-wiring? Can I source the fitting that it’s missing? Will it fit in the space? Any instinct I have about an item being the right look for a job gets muddied when I also have to think about the practicalities.
I suppose that is the nature of an impulse buy. Logic goes out the window. You want it, you buy it. Sometimes it works out, sometimes you get stuck with a fridge full of tiny yoghurts.
There are times however, when you just know something is right. This week when I was shopping for the aforementioned jobs, trawling my local haunts, I found a large and beautiful 100% wool rug made in Pakistan. I unrolled it, saw the quality and colour (and cleanliness) and knew I had to have it, not for either client, but for me. I could picture it perfectly in at least two places at home and a special rug had been on my wish-list for ages.
At £25 it was a no brainer.
I was with friends recently at a bar and the conversation of love came up. The age old question was raised: “But how do you know?” Love in romantic relationships is more complicated and messy and confusing and I won’t pretend to have an answer about how we know. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in love.
But the rug? I just knew and I gave in to my impulse.
Thank you for reading x
L💖VE
I had a similar Tesco excitement of the week life with wheelchair mum
We could park, it was flat, I cooked her a week of meals so the carer had a bit less to do, so bulk buys were sensible.
Som arrived and so the expedition included him sat on mum’s lap as she could still hold him tight when he was little. Later there needed to be two of us on for the mum chair one for the pushchair . One Sunday it was hot so the expedition set off and acquired an inflatable “ canoe” in a very small size.
It sat in the lawn with a small slide into the water set up at one end and mum at the other.
As my son slid in the water heaved up and splashed mum. It was the most fun we all had, and this heatwave reminds me of that Sunday