January 29, 2007--The Little Woman

Just when it looks as if we’ve come a long way, something happens that reveals that we are not quite there yet. In this case, that something has to do with shopping. For pocketbooks and other such expensive items.

The NY Times reported recently about Shalla Azizian. For a splurge, she bought herself a Chanel bag that cost $2,000. She owns a successful boutique in New York City and earns enough from it to be financially independent; but she paid cash for the Chanel bag so that it wouldn’t show up on her credit card bill and upset her husband who, she says, does not have “tastes as expensive as mine and he doesn’t understand the need to have so many pricey things.”

Let’s take this one thing at a time—

First, in the year 2007, wouldn’t you expect financially-independent Mrs. Azizian to have credit cards in her own name? And wouldn’t she have her own checking account with which to pay her credit card bills?

Then, if she does have her own credit cards and checking account, how would Mr. Azizian know how much she spent on whatever? Does he open her mail? Does she show her bills to him?

And what about the need, her need for pricey things? She doesn’t say anything about the need for something special, beautiful, or well-made. Just about the bag’s priceyness. I’m not a good enough psychologist or sociologist to understand the intrinsic need to buy something just because its pricey—though I have a friend, who is a shopper, but gets pleasure from shopping only when she pays full price for something. She hates and avoids sales. She’d rather not have that Prada bag, which she could afford when on sale, unless she can buy it at list price. Go figure.

I know Mrs. Azizian may not be that typical and I suspect that some of you, like me, when seeing her name, Shalla Azizian may be suspecting that there might be something cultural going on that explains why she hides from her husband how much she spends; but if you read the full article linked below, you’ll see that this practice may be pervasive across ethnic and demographic borders.

But then there is the case of my Aunt Madeline. Yes, if she were still alive she would be about 100 and you might think she is therefore of that older, unliberated generation. Yes and no. She worked all her life as a high-level and tyrannical office manager and was such a good saver that she amassed quite a lot of money—not a fortune but enough to be as independent and Mrs. Azizian; and like her she was quite capable of paying the equivalent of $2,000 for a Chanel bag. But she was very frugal, and I’m not even sure she had a pocketbook. Any pocketbook.

When she married for the third time, after disposing of the first two husbands in ways that I prefer here not to describe (though the statute of limitations must have run out by now), she married Harry for love and passion.

He was a high-liver and, though he did not have much money of his own, was able to persuade Aunt Madeline to spend some of her hard-earned money on romantic cruises and even trips to Las Vegas where they, yes, even gambled. And on these junkets, while on his arm, he wanted her to look spiffy. So he pressed her to open up her wallet and buy some fancy things.

So here’s what she did: She was in truth incapable of spending what to her was a lot of money on dresses and shoes and such. Therefore, when she went to Macy’s or A&S or Bloomingdales, she shopped exclusively from the remainder racks where things were on sale at deep discounts. And, since she knew Harry would examine the price tags, she would steal labels from dresses and shoes not on sale, which she would then attach to the things she bought, thereby hiding from him what she actually paid.

Harry would in fact check the price tags and, as the result of her subterfuge, feel satisfied that she had treated herself well.

And of course, to him, she looked very glamorous and sexy!