shop till you drop

Like most girls, I love to shop. Unlike most girls, I have the chance to go to exotic locations and only enough time to do little else but shop.

I’ve always been a shop-till-you-drop style of girl, but when I first started flying, shopping initially took a back seat (well, more like a side seat really) to other things, particularly playing tourist. I was just so excited to visit all these different countries and explore their sights, the different cultures, the cuisines and the shops. But after seeing Singapore for 146 times, there are only so many times you can play tourist.

I don’t really need an excuse to shop. I choose to shop over doing almost anything else even in mega-touristy places like Europe. Shopping can feel so damn good – a much-deserved relief from limited slip times, jetlag and sleep deprivation issues. Besides, even if it’s Paris, if you’re visiting the city for the fifteenth time, even the Eiffel Tower begins to start looking like a rusty old piece of scrap metal. The shops, however, look shiny and new.

Some people are born to play sports, some to dance, some to be diplomats. I was, ladies and gentlemen, born to shop. I have even made up a nice little way to use shopping as a way to work out and keep fit.

I call it ‘retail aerobics,’ and it involves walking really fast for twenty minutes, with my heart rate getting faster and faster as I approach the shops. It is not the walking that gets my blood pumping, but the possibility of snagging a bargain. After two hours of patrolling aisles and lifting hangers, I head back to the hotel carrying bulging bags on my arms like dumbbells. Retail aerobics is a fantastic workout, and it really does help lose weight: my purse does weigh substantially less after a round of retail aerobics.

When I am in a foreign country, shopping is the only activity safe enough for me to do on my own, is in air-conditioned comfort, is available in every major city and, most importantly, is a lot of fun. The world is really a small place. A shopping mall in Singapore is essentially the same as one in Los Angeles or Sydney or Johannesburg. They all have Guess, Ralph Lauren Polo, Armani, DKNY and, of course, my complete and undivided attention.

The unique thing about Singapore is much of their shopping is available underground. You can go from shopping centre to centre and, using a series of linking walkways or the train system, you can spend all day shopping, and not even glimpse the outside world. This works perfectly, especially when those tropical storms roll in as they do most afternoons. Once, I had been shopping all day in Singapore and didn’t even know there had been a massive storm outside, until I had returned to my hotel room to open the curtains.

This time I am arriving in Singapore and the weather is fine. I open the curtains, admire the view, and then contemplate my movements. I am tired, and I know I should go straight to bed. But then, I also know that the sale is already on, and the prospect of a life-altering-bargain is too big a temptation for me to refuse. I freshen up and then immediately race downstairs to get my Starbucks coffee to go. It’s time to begin my retail aerobics with coffee-fuelled gusto.

Jetlag and lack of sleep can make you delirious. Usually this state of delirium is not something I look forward to, but this time I am deliriously happy as I head underground, armed with a double-shot latte in one hand and a handbag filled with credit cards in the other.

Soon, I am in retail heaven. Sure, there are people everywhere. Sure, my body is functioning on pure adrenaline and nothing else, but all of this fades into the blurry background when I spot a rack of Dolce and Gabbana jeans being offered at a 70% discount.

‘A 70% discount!’ I scream inside my head. They are almost giving them away.

My retail-aerobics session moves from cardio to weights as I carry around bags of pure joy. Should I go back to my hotel, I wonder when I’m almost done. Should I drop these bags off in the room, have a quick power nap and come back for more? Or should I just be satisfied with my efforts and call it quits?

I decide to go with Plan C. I grab another Starbucks coffee and soldier on. If only I had this much determination and dedication when I had studied at university, I would have topped all my courses. Sadly shopping wasn’t a course option offered to me.

I take a break to plot my remaining shopping strategy. I’ve just bought two dresses, three tops, a new handbag, some jewellery and those killer pair of jeans. What should I get next? Shoes! I need a new pair of tan-coloured boots to go with my jeans.

It is funny how ‘I have to have’, ‘I must have’ and ‘I need’ have come to mean the same thing to me now. At university, if I said ‘I need a new pair of shoes’, it meant that I really did need a new pair of shoes, that I would be going to classes barefoot otherwise. Yes, I do need to have a reality check soon, but all I want now is a pair of shoes.

I do find my dream shoes soon enough. They aren’t as heavily discounted as some of my other purchases, but then what are credit cards for? Anyone who lives within their means suffers a distinct lack of imagination, I say.

My next trip is to Manila, another shopping wonderland, and I know this will give me an opportunity to scratch my shopping itch very soon. I decide to call it quits for the day. Fully satisfied, I return to my hotel room. Although I should sleep straight away, I am still buzzed from all that shopping and go through a little routine I often do when I’ve had a magnificent shopping day. I take all my purchases out of their packaging, lay them on the bed and then stand back, looking at them in admiration.

I stand with a smile on my face for about five minutes. I then realise that I’ve tried on all the items before buying them, but I haven’t tried on my new boots – not with the jeans, at least. I barely have the energy to keep my eyes open, but I do find the will to wiggle into my Dolce and Gabbana jeans and slide into my boots before standing in front of the full-length mirror.

Damn, I look good.

I have noticed that most guys refer to their jeans as simply ‘jeans’. Girls, however, usually refer to their jeans by the name of their brand. While deciding what to wear, we usually think, ‘Will I wear my Armanis? Or my Luckys? Or my Calvins? Or my DKNYs? Or my Guess jeans?’

To my list, I can now add these D&Gs.

I carefully fold my new purchases and put them back in my suitcase. Once, the bed is free again, I proceed to do what I should have done hours earlier: sleep. Tomorrow I’ve to get back on the aircraft, but I’m happy that I’m going home. And I’m going home with a suitcase filled of joy and a face beaming with a bargain-hunter’s grin.