The one annual ritual I do have, when I have a birthday coming up. I make me a wishlist. A list that probably no one who would actually shell out the bucks to buy me a present would refer to, but a list I make out all the same, because, what the hell, I like making lists. Lists define me. What would I be without lists, a lost soul, looking hither and thither at supermarkets wondering what is it I really came down here to buy. Er, that’s me with the lists, you say? Never mind. I will buy them all for myself.
I’m going into this birthday with a shopping list that is as long as my arm, and god help anyone who comes between a woman and her shopping. Here goes.
Jeggings. I want a pair. I know I will look unbalanced. But this is one trend I didnt buy, and I so dont want to be left out. Even if I am 22 years too late to wear one of these.
Reetone shoes: Will they give me the butt in the ad? And the legs? Then I will want. And I will wear. You will have to wrestle me down to get them off my feet. I will even wear them to sleep.
Perfume: I am dangerously close to the last sprays in most of the ones I own. Therefore bye bye Nina, Chanel No 5, Escada, Versus, Fifth Avenue. Time for a new set of faces on the bathroom counter.
Bags, shoes? Of course. Would I ever say no to these. Need them. Need them like I need air and water. Need them until I have absolutely no space to store them and have to throw out bedsheets and towels to make room for them in the linen cupboards. I have my priorities so right. And its been an entire month since I got me a new bag and new shoes!!
Sunglasses: Big bug eye ones? Tom Ford Samantha? Yup. Or classic Rayban silvered Aviators? Decisions, decisions!
Make up: Lipsticks are running dangerously low, so low that I can almost dare to start counting them and completing the count. Need to replenish stock. I am naked if I dont have at least five lipsticks in my handbag at any given point. Fawn Fatale from LOreal, here I come.
Tops: More florals. Flowing. soft fabrics. Whites. Colours. I need to get out of my black rut.
And yes, a new phone. This current Blackberry has served me long and well and now is gasping dying breaths. Any reccos? No touchscreens please. Most inconvenient damn things.