Friday, 13 January 2012
In praise of...nearly pointless purchases
My newest purchase, delivered yesterday, sits on my counter winking a beautiful grey-blue eye at me. Moments ago, it growled like a small, angry groundhog and scared my kids. Then it began its slow, delightful trickling, filling my kitchen with a fierce and heady aroma.
That's right: I bought a new coffee maker.
The last time I splurged on a nearly pointless, ridiculously expensive purchase was in 2005. I'd just gotten divorced and had a bank account to myself for the first time in ten years. My sister had taken me out for some retail therapy and we both saw the coat at the same time.
"Oh Kimmy...it's you!" she breathed. "Try it on."
It was a luxurious, turquoise Esprit hounds tooth coat, knee-length and beautifully fitted. I sidled up to it and surreptitiously checked the price tag. I think my eyes bulged like those cartoon dogs who see a really hot cartoon lady dog.
"Holy crap, it's $350!" I scream-whispered.
My sage sister shrugged. "Just try it on. You don't have to buy it or anything."
I tried it on.
The coat fit like the factory worker at Esprit had my measurements. The turquoise was shot with gold and dove grey thread. The buttons were leather. It had one of those belts at the back that I liken to the spoilers you see on sports cars: useless but sharp looking. I felt glamorous, rich, and happily single. I shelled out the money for that coat and I wore it for five years straight, until the robin's-egg-blue lining shredded and the buttons fell off. It's still hanging in an upstairs closet because neither D nor I can bear to get rid of it. "That coat does something to you," he told me the first time he saw me in it. And it did.
I'm not much of a shopper, online or otherwise. I don't like stuff, gadgets, etc. D rages at me because I don't buy nicer clothes, but honestly, I just can't be bothered. So it has been quite a while since I threw money at something I didn't truly need, just because something in me said, "GET IT."
Hence the Capresso coffee maker that's staring at me from across the kitchen. It has a built in grinder, a thermal carafe and a charcoal filter for my horrid water. I know it's spiritually damaging to love an object, and that spending as much as I did on a coffee maker is obscene, but you know what? I. Don't. Care.
My old coffee maker was on sale at Canadian Tire and I bought it because a friend of mine had one and it looked cool. But the damned thing LEAKED everywhere, all the time, seemingly seconds after the 1 year warranty expired. Plus it never brewed the coffee to the proper, paint-peeling strength that I preferred. In a caffeine-deprived fog, I went online, researched coffee makers and ordered the best of the best.
When my postie brought the giant box with my name on it yesterday morning, I nearly kissed him, I was so excited. And I still am. Hopefully Mr. Capresso will be as delightful a purchase as my old coat was. Because it will likely be another five years until my next nearly pointless purchase.