I’ve discovered the secret to the joy of shopping without the price tag

Thirteen years ago, as I was wandering around my local shopping centre, I fell madly in love. The object of my desire was a jacket, in buttery soft leather, hanging in the window of my favourite boutique. It was way out of my league – more stylish, and far more expensive, than anything I’d ever owned. (Think of the most you’ve ever spent on an item of clothing, triple it, add a bit more, and that is how much my dream jacket was.)

I coveted that jacket. I longed for it, every day. I began dropping by the store, a couple of times a week, just to gaze at the jacket and imagine taking it home. I could see it in my wardrobe, complementing all my clothes, completing my wardrobe, completing my life!

My love burned so brightly that, eventually, the sales assistant took pity on me.

“It’s meant for you,” she told me one afternoon, as I ran my hands once more down the smooth arm of the jacket and admired its glistening silver zip. “I can’t let you leave without it. I’ll give you 20 per cent off.”

Even with 20 per cent off, the jacket was more than twice as much as I’d ever spent on anything. But it was an offer too good to refuse, and I was weary of unrequited love. I paid the money, the jacket was folded carefully into a bag, and finally – finally! – that precious thing was mine.

I took my new treasure home and hung it in my wardrobe. The jacket was lovely, and well-made, but suddenly it was just another piece of clothing. The magic sheen had disappeared the moment I brought it home. Yearning for that jacket had felt like excitement and anticipation and promise. Owning the jacket felt like, well…

It felt like a jacket.

The true high of online shopping comes from finding cute items of clothing and clicking them into my virtual cart.

KERRI SACKVILLE

I thought of that leather jacket recently when I read a snippet of wisdom in an article about consumerism. The peak joy of shopping, the writer explained, comes the moment before you buy something. The pleasure derives from the sense of longing for the item, rather than the delight of ownership.

Of course! I have experienced this when I shop online. The true high of online shopping, however, comes from finding cute items of clothing and clicking them into my virtual cart.

Sure, it’s fun to press the “buy now” button, and I enjoy the anticipation of knowing that a package is going to arrive in the mail. But once it does arrive, it’s downhill all the way. Even if the item looks exactly the way I had imagined – which, to be fair, it rarely does – it never brings as much happiness as I imagine it will. It’s just a new item of clothing. And, after the first wear, it’s not even that.

Once I realised this truth, I completely changed the way I shop. Now, instead of buying new items, I generally just put them in my online cart. Carting new clothes gives me the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure of longing, without the disappointment of actually buying. Even better, it offers me all the joys of shopping without any of the expense.

I can spend hours browsing, popping shirts and dresses and handbags into my cart. It soothes me. I find it extremely therapeutic.

I can focus on the search for the perfect white tee or wide-legged black pants and forget everything else. I can cart super-expensive items I would never actually buy, or cart several different options at a time.

Then later, I can go online and admire the clothes in my cart as though they were actually in my wardrobe. Most of the items eventually lose their shine, and after a week, or a month, I let them go.

Recently, I carted a stunning quilted coat from Italy that retailed for $647. For weeks, I gazed at it almost daily, marvelling at its cut, admiring its craftsmanship. I created entire outfits to wear with the coat (it looked particularly good with my straight-legged jeans). I stepped out in that coat dozens of times in my head. It was my favourite item in my virtual wardrobe.

One day, I logged on to the website and the coat didn’t appeal to me any more. I was sick of it. I’d worn it too many times. And I’d never actually worn it at all.

As for my leather jacket, well, it still hangs in my wardrobe. To this day, it remains the most expensive item I’ve ever bought. I wish I could say it was worth the price, but in hindsight I derived far more pleasure from visiting the jacket in the store – looking at it, longing for it, trying it on – than I ever did actually wearing it.

If only I had seen the jacket online and not in a store. I think I would have left it in the cart.

Make the most of your health, relationships, fitness and nutrition with our Live Well newsletter. Get it in your inbox every Monday.