Debra already had this one in powder blue, and she loved the way it clung to her torso. The dress stayed with her no matter how she moved, and it recovered nicely after she would kneel or bend over. Watching Debra through tall triple panel mirrors, Maggie had mentally committed to a composed smile that expressed pleasure and a high degree of admiration. The smile concealed Maggie’s porcelain teeth but displayed her full cheeks. From across the boutique, Maggie’s assistant Trina studied her mentor’s sales prowess from behind the register. Trina knew these smirks were not genuine. Smiles to make the customer happy. Happy customers chatting away and talking themselves into the purchase of ready-to-wear designer clothing marketed by the boutique as custom couture. Maggie’s role was to reassure her patrons. Give them the confidence they needed to go through with it. Did they need the clothing? Was it beyond their budget? Need is relative to the shopper’s mental appetite and point of purchase satisfaction has no budget. After three more laps in the positive feedback loop, Debra wanted the embroidered tube dress in black.
A free fitting was in the offering, but Debra was satisfied with the fit right off the rack. Maggie insisted on a slight steam to work-out a small crinkle near the bottom seam on the backside of the dress. Debra appreciated the detail and attention Maggie offered, and could not turn away the extra touch. This was Debra’s lunchbreak and she was due back at the office for a meeting that had already started. A quick run of Debra’s credit card by Trina and the transaction would be complete. Maggie and Trina would box and bundle the new black dress along with a bubble dress brought in last week for a minor adjustment to one of the ruffles. The boutique, New Woman Chic was about to deliver another euphoric customer into the urban fish tank of fashion conscious spectators.
Debra would pick-up her exciting new prize after her work day. The afternoon breezed by with her joy and satisfaction for the newest addition to her elegant collection. She saw herself striding down the concrete catwalk of the art district’s main drag — backlit by the city’s sky glow, sleek in her new black dress, and taking-in appreciative glances. Debra’s imagined self would become reality somewhere in town on some given night, and when that time arrived, she would give credit to the good people at New Woman Chic for their part in her award winning night out.
New Woman Chic was not alone as the key supplier fulfilling Debra’s grand appetite for grand elegance. There were three primary boutiques that Debra frequently made pit stops at for purchases of the higher end additions to her overstocked wardrobe. Each had some geographic significance. New Woman Chic was close to work. This provided an escape for Debra during long lunch breaks, or short lunch breaks, which Debra extended into long ones. La Femme Élégante was located in the outdoor shopping mall less than a mile from Debra’s condominium complex. She made the most visits to La Femme Élégante, but ironically made the fewest purchases there. It was more of a weekend place to try things on with her bestie Claire and explore what was trending in local womenswear. The third apparel boutique on Debra’s steady shopping circuit was Fred’s Closet. The important thing about Fred’s was its proximity to the home of Debra’s parents across town. Debra grew up on Fred’s. Her mom shopped at Fred’s decades ago when Fred and his wife Agnes started the boutique as a his-and-her formalwear store. Over time, Fred’s Closet dropped the rental of tuxedos and ball gowns in favor of focusing on higher end women’s fashion trends. Fred was the face of the store and Agnes managed the books on the second floor. Agnes and her accounting organization of rusting metal file cabinets dwelled among the overflowing shelves of inventory and display mannequins. A hidden door behind lady’s hosiery was the communication corridor for shouting and screaming – the time-honored wireless intercom system.
Under her mother’s supervision and guidance, Fred’s Closet is where Debra realized women’s fashion firsthand as a young girl. It’s where she received brief moments of adoration and attention. It was where she could envision an identity for herself beyond the one her parents had seemingly picked-out for her. During her teenage years, she was limited to a select few items. These were special purchases for special occasions. Once the special occasions had come and gone, the special purchases were carelessly adjusted and aesthetically compromised to extend their wearable life. Years later, when Debra was out in the world and on her own, the limited experience of nice things to wear transformed into a limitless desire.
It wasn’t just the nice things on the high-end spectrum of womenswear. Debra had an insatiable appetite for volume. She filled-out her portfolio of clothing choices with weekly department store shopping binges and chain store supplementation. When Debra was not displaying samples of her wardrobe among friends for the evening, she sat in front of her television with laptop in hand. Debra was a dedicated online shopper. Clicking through the electronic clothing dispensaries of color coordinated accessories and optional finishes for shoes she already owned. Analyzing and ordering storage bins and closet organization hardware, which would allow Debra to consolidate her existing inventory and make room for new additions.
Late Saturday afternoon was a time to tidy-up Debra’s two-bedroom condo and move into a mode of personal preparation for an evening out with the girls. The new black embroidered tube dress would make her virgin voyage tonight atop black patent leather platform pumps. Debra placed the components of her evening wear across her bed and felt a degree of pride in her assemblage of style.
There was a small window of time for Debra to take in the mail and review the bills for the month. Sunday night was Debra’s usual time for preparing checks and e-payments to keep her finances in balance. A small pressure had been building over the last couple of months with the limitations of Debra’s household cash-flow. At first, she fought the feeling with a mini shopping spree through Nordstrom’s and then Macy’s. Between these two department store behemoths, which served as the anchors of her favorite shopping mall, Debra made activewear purchases at both Lululemon and Athleta. Spreading her consumer goodwill across competing brands, Debra selected a mid-rise compression pant from Athleta and a floral pattern Wunder Under tight from Lululemon. That was last weekend. Then, there was the mid-week purchase at Maggie’s New Woman Chic. Both shopping experiences had some underlying anxiety mixed with an irrational drive to drown-out the noise of Debra’s rational self. It was all a futile attempt to block the sinking truth of a growing debt load with fleeting endorphin delights activated by shopping for more stuff.
Reality was setting in. Debra envisioned losing her entire wardrobe in the depths of a winter snow storm with the exception of a lady’s peach pant suit showing a permanent coffee stain on the left thigh. She wouldn’t even take a peek inside her two credit card billing envelopes to see the balance due. Both the mortgage payment and the monthly condo common fees were eight days into their respective fifteen-day grace periods. The two credit card balances had been building up for over a year. She typically paid the minimum and sometimes a bit more to be safe. Debra was facing an end of month cash crunch with a tapped-out savings account and a turn-around time that would not allow for something more drastic like a loan from her 401k savings at work. Saturday night still offered a respite from the inevitable hard choices Debra would need to make. She was so excited to wear her new dress and enjoy the moment with friends. No one and no circumstances were going to put Debra in the grips of a coffee stained peach pant suit.
Sunday afternoon was the tipping point of Debra’s apparel compulsion. She was too smart to allow herself to overdose on her insatiable appetite for clothes. It was time to open up all of the credit card envelopes, put the billing statements for all store cards on the table, and log into the electronic ledger of her bank account. This was a financial intervention between the Debra who had blindly stuffed her living quarters to the tippy top with clothing for every possible occasion and mood in a wide array of colors and finishes …and the Debra who could no longer pay for her compulsive behavior with income, credit, or leverage on the few assets she held. Debra’s savings account held less than fifty dollars. Her checking account had a little more than two thousand dollars, but it was all earmarked for scheduled electronic payments through her bank. Here credit cards had more credit to offer, but the compounding interest rate on the outstanding balance was adding hundreds of dollars more of debt to the bottom line. Debra had exceeded the credit line offered on one store card and was already dealing with a penalty payment and an increased interest rate as a result. She had to stop using another store card altogether as it approached its credit limit.
Debra’s self-intervention was making some progress. She was taking an in depth look at herself and her financial mess while surrounded by four short stacks of unopen shoe boxes. There were department store bags of knit sweaters, blouses and jackets from days of shopping debauchery too long ago to remember. She was struggling to put things into perspective and remain calm. Panic and self-loathing were trying to take hold and takeover. Now that she was taking an honest tour through all of the debt associated with something that may have evolved into an addiction over the last few years, Debra wanted to escape. She wanted a guiding light to take her out of this debt dungeon. It was a horrible sinking feeling.
What resources could she tap into? Who could she reach out to for help? Debra felt overwhelmed with embarrassment for the predicament she had placed herself in. If anyone were to visit her, surely they’d point out the obvious from any corner of her condo. Closets that couldn’t close, nylon storage boxes poking out from beneath her couch and bed, and boxes everywhere. Debra’s linen closet contained few bed sheets or towels. She had converted it to accommodate her vast collection of shoes and purses. Debra could not possibly rent her second bedroom to supplement her income. This room contained three baskets of clothes destined for dry cleaning, two industrial size canvas hampers for casual attire waiting to be machine washed, and four rolling garment racks completely filled-out. It was no longer a room to sleep in and there was no other floor space left in the condo to hold this stuff. Debra slept in the smaller of the two bedrooms as a sacrifice to the objects of her obsession.
A second mortgage on the condominium was not even possible for Debra. She had little equity in her home to begin with, and the bigger hurdle was her credit. Late payments, high balances, and fees for exceeding her credit lines had deteriorated the cumulative score within her credit report. Debra had an unofficial credit line with her mom and dad. The money an adult child may borrow from family on occasion with assurance that all debts will be forgiven or just forgotten over the years. Borrowing money from mom and dad would be a terrible embarrassment at this stage in her independent adult life. Debra felt that her parents had no idea how she really lived. Nonetheless, she believed with some degree of certainty that they held onto a vision of her as a successful young business woman. Successful enough to side step the lure of living beyond one’s means and the consequential trappings of unmanageable debt. They might offer a greater helping hand accompanied by sorrow and guilt if Debra only could have a substance abuse problem. In her mind, this was much worse. She could be judged by anyone who discovers her predicament as decadently addicted to a lifestyle of fashionista hedonism on a short dark runway to inevitable financial collapse.
Only Debra was judging Debra on this Sunday afternoon of reflection. No one could offer a harsher critique or deliver harder mental blows. Punishing herself would not pay the bills or provide a bridge loan to buy time to think. A part of Debra wanted to attack her own self-worth and trample on her confidence. If she allowed this to happen, the creative underdog within might go down for the count and never offer-up the possible solutions to overcome her situation.
Coming down from a manic rush of negative spin applied to every action or event from the past month and stepping back from flooding her brain with the shortcomings of her personal decisions made over the last few years — Debra slowly moved away from panic and became serene. She could begin to think. She could focus on the problem. She could start to speculate options and possible opportunities.
Within a three-foot radius, Debra could reach out and touch a small sampling of the solution. New shoes never worn and colorful shopping bags stuffed with store purchases. Debra needed to move and take action. She’d start with the fresh merchandise that sat in her immediate surroundings. Back to the mall. Through the maze of two department stores in search of their customer service desks. On the second floor, behind the home goods section, and across the hall from the oversized family style restrooms. This would be Debra’s first conquest for cash. A liquidation of wardrobe assets. With a calm demeanor, she turned three wool skirts, a leather moto jacket, and two pairs of fashion sneakers into a hefty credit applied to her store card balance. After a brisk walk across the interior length of the gleaming mall, Debra arrived at department store number two and executed her second refund transaction of the day. There was a mental rush of relief and renewed confidence building within. Debt reduction felt better than the snug fit of a Stuart Weitzman Policelady boot with full-length lacing.
The balance of Sunday night was used to develop a plan and organize her inventory. Debra’s initial conquest was fruitful. Recapturing the capital held within her wardrobe was triggering a polar opposite obsession to her original need to acquire. In the coming weeks she would unleash a wrath of returns.
A long lunch break on Monday found Debra pushing two recent purchases from New Woman Chic across the counter to Trina. The embroidered black tube dress she wore on Saturday night and the mini bubble dress with its recently altered ruffle. Maggie was occupied with a fussy couple on the other side of the store and never saw Debra enter. Trina would fly solo on this challenging mission and took a diplomatic tone as she attempted to enforce the boutique’s policy for returns. “So, you are returning the items within thirty-days of delivery.” Stating the obvious truth, Trina was looking to establish some simple common ground in order to build-up courage for the knockback she was about to deliver. “As a result, this entitles you to a full refund, but as you may know, these items are from New Woman Chic’s couture collection, and of course, they’ve been customized to your satisfaction.” Debra stood tall and her body became rigid. She was filled with a silent rage and momentarily believed that a greater power might use her as an implement to slice Trina in two. Debra took in Trina’s very even and robotic regurgitation of store policy and offered a mocking rebuttal. “Yes, I can see that I’m within the thirty-day window from time of delivery, but these items are truly ready-to-wear, and the customization was to fix a defect discovered days after purchase. So, I would appreciate a full refund to my credit card, which is on file here.”
Trina made quick desperate glances over Debra’s shoulder in the hopes of catching Maggie’s eye. For an instant there was pupil to pupil contact, but the silent communique from Maggie was, “I am busy and do not look my way until I’m through — thank you” Trina was on her own. She knew Debra was a bit compulsive and had some confidence that she’d come back before the week was through to buy something else. Trina felt that she could use this as a defense if Maggie became aware of her processing a return and succumbing to a full refund. From Trina’s side of the counter, Debra seemed eccentric enough to show up tomorrow and re-purchase these very same dresses. In the meantime, Trina could bury the items in the back room and make a mental note to forget this ever happened during the end of month accounting audit.
The Monday battle at New Woman Chic was still fresh in Debra’s mind as she plopped down a stunning volley of six dresses, two skirts, and three blouses at La Femme Élégante. Her tactic was to scout the partners of La Femme Élégante and make sure they were preoccupied before she moved-in on the unsuspecting sales assistant. Upon seeing owner number one (Jennifer) leave the premises Debra made her approach. Then, she got a visual on partner number two (Rafael) through the storefront display window. Rafael was consumed with a showroom representative and reviewing new samples from their top designer. Debra and her returns had the greenlight. She was stoic and detached in her demeanor. The essence of her demands: here’s the stuff, take it back, and give me a credit on my credit card. Debra spoke of her returns in third party mode — she was simply a financially responsible agent for the fanatical Debra from the past.
By Thursday, Debra had carved out the newest portion of her wardrobe and returned it all. Most of the smaller stores and designer boutiques would not provide a full refund beyond thirty-days. They might take items back, but they would only offer a store credit no matter what sad story Debra could invent. Still, Debra headed over to Fred’s Closet with some bottoms and tops purchased over two months ago. She shared details about her personal finances that no one in her family knew about. Fred appreciated Debra’s new outlook as well as her attempt to clean up her home balance sheet. He wasn’t concerned about future sales, and after hearing about Debra’s financial state, he lovingly forbid her from ever coming back. Fred wasn’t operating a non-profit. He was willing to give Debra a refund on her credit card less a substantial restocking fee. In the end, the pieces she brought in were almost out of season and would go directly to the sales rack. Eventually Debra’s bottoms and tops would belong to another woman in town. She gave Fred a squeeze and a peck on the cheek with a silent thank you.
For all of her running around on lunch breaks and hardline returns, Debra was no better off in terms of cash in her checking account. She had lowered some credit card balances, but nothing would take effect until the next billing cycle. She hardly made a dent in the volume of clothing in her condo either. Debra was ready to truly capitulate on her wardrobe. It was time for a rendezvous with the vintage clothing shops downtown. She was tempted to start stuffing oversized extra strength garbage bags. When she envisioned herself dragging a forty-two-gallon, 4.0 Mil contractor bag through the entrance of a shop’s front door, thoughts of fencing stolen goods crossed her mind. Debra felt that she could avoid any confusion of criminal activity and upgrade the appeal of her outfits if she wheeled the stuff into stores in her matching suitcases.
A few items were either appreciated for their intrinsic value due to the material used or the brand name. Other pieces fed into a revival trend and could command a decent price. One shop had no interest in her old outfits but wanted the matching luggage. Short of a dozen articles of clothing that could actually pull-in some real cash, the balance of Debra’s bartering brought her pennies on the dollar. The one-day tour of vintage stores, with her wardrobe on the chopping block, gave Debra the money she needed for this month’s bills with a small surplus.
The weekend had arrived, and Debra was about to be in the clear with her bills for the current month. She had no party plans and she had no cloths to party in. Debra paid for credit cards, utilities, and her mortgage online and sealed the envelopes for the few invoices she still remitted through USPS. She was exhilarated. Debra’s emotions were transporting her to an inverse extreme of her compulsive behavior to shop and grow her catalogue of clothing. She had flipped polarity from acquire to unload. She still retained a small portion of her once substantial wardrobe. This was her clothing which even the vintage stores had no market for. Debra wanted a clean slate. She wanted to push the last of her clothing out of the condo and just lose it all. Debra was not frustrated, and she was not giving up. She had a vision, and she had a new plan. A new way to pursue a wardrobe that aligned to her finances and her lifestyle.
Debra’s new wardrobe plan was defined by the following manifesto. Debra would hold onto her undergarments and build from there. The permanent foundation of her new wardrobe plan would limit her to ownership of panties, bras, and stockings. Everything else would be purchased with the intention of returning it within fourteen days. Debra would only purchase her clothing, shoes, and accessories from national department stores with generous return policies and no restocking fees. Fourteen days of outfits for all occasions. Then, return all items and start over every other Sunday.
The first month implementing the new wardrobe scheme would constitute the initial investment for her fourteen days of outfits. After that, the credits would cancel the new charges month after month. The fundamental discipline was to match the total expenditures for replacement clothing, shoes, and accessories with the merchandise return credits at the end of each fourteen-day cycle. This would become Debra’s strategic platform for wardrobe maintenance. A dynamic way to stay in style and align one’s look to seasonal changes. There would be no more clutter or old stuff to rummage through. Nothing to throw away, give away, or loan out to. For Debra, a new obsession with demanding details to obsess about. A perpetual wardrobe — powered by the rotation of returns.
