Aspirational Daydreaming

When I was a child, I used to enjoy browsing shopping catalogues. I'd start at the beginning, with the make-up and jewellery sections, working out what I wanted. Sometimes, my younger sister would join me, and we'd end up arguing over who was allowed to own which imaginary items. I still love catalogues. I still love ogling potential possessions. Recently, my friend returned from Bristol with a furniture catalogue from a large store. Living in Cornwall, these large shops are both novel and aspirational. We have the Cornish version, Trago Mills, which somehow doesn't live up to my idea of aspirational shopping.

Having said this, I think you can tell a lot about someone's social status from their home interior aspirations. This doesn't mean, given the money, I wouldn't be tempted by an expensive makeover. However, I like an edge of reality to my daydreaming. On my budget, cheap Swedish furniture may be as good as it gets.

Online shopping is the modern day equivalent of catalogues. However, whilst there is a wealth of flat packed furniture I can choose from, I find there is too much choice. And, it will never be an equivalent to the feel and smell of a glossy catalogue, yet to be perused, pages almost stuck together in its newness.

Although, at least there are no people when I shop online – staff or customers. I find, especially in the larger stores, my temperature rises, my blood boils, and I find it increasingly hard to remain in control. I am like a small child wanting to have a tantrum, ready to lie on the floor, banging my head, and screaming.

This regularly happens in supermarkets – the blood boiling bit, not the full scale tantrums. On bad days, I have been known to leave a trolley full of goods in the middle of the shop floor as I run off in desperation. On even worse days, I take it out on some poor minimum wage slave, who I then have to apologise to, explain that I know it isn't their fault.

I also find online shopping safer. I don't impulse buy as I do when I'm in a shop. Go to a supermarket, and it's guaranteed I'll end up with at least an extra thirty quids worth of stuff I don't need. But they sell so much now, and I get caught up. It's the lifestyle stuff that gets me. I'll look at the rows of kitchen and bathroom goods, and suddenly feel my life isn't complete unless I buy a new toilet brush holder. I know I'll go back to my bathroom, and it won't look right, unless I purchase this before now unwanted, and not needed consumer good.

I think this is part of what makes me angry. I'm angry at myself, and irrationally angry at the shop for putting myself in the position where I can't control myself. All in all, I think it's better if I stick to my catalogues and aspirational daydreaming.

By Sarah Maple