No Oniomania

For humbugs and those living outside of Judeo-Christian faiths, the greatest joy of the holiday season is the prevalence of the most wonderful deals of the year. Swept into stores by persuasive holiday sounds, smells and advertising pressure would be shoppers are assaulted by announcements that everything in the store, including sale items, are on sale. The holiday season is a tricky time for penny pinching purchasers and the shameful shoppers. As a member of both clubs, I have retained the guilt of every bargain purchase I have ever made. I can count on both hands purchases costing more than $100 including taxes and can recall the anguish involved in each procurement. It took months to replace a TV because I couldn’t bear to part with the money, even on installment. The purchase of winter boots took two full seasons. Preparation began during summer vacation in Las Vegas, when I dragged myself away from the penny slots long enough to hit the malls. I showed my fiancé dozens of boots and scrutinized each one. Back in New York, I subjected him discount shoe websites and forced him to offer commentary. When finally I decided to buy a pair, I imagined it to be an impulse, became concerned and called him in court to have him talk me through the purchase. When did my frugality turn into chronic reverse oniomania?

Oniomania is, at least in North America, a serious medical condition which compels sufferers to shop in an attempt to alleviate emotional distress. The very thought of shopping of is distressing to me. I envy these people. I imagine easy it must be for them to get a day’s shopping done while I am driving around the parking lot looking for a meter with time on it. They literally have it all and during the holiday seasons they can get it all cheaper.

The act of shopping activates a combination of my greatest phobias. Decidophobia, fear of making decisions, caused me to freeze through and entire north eastern winter because I was too indecisive to get the proper outerwear. I spent plenty of in malls and boutiques interviewing each piece of clothing as if it were going to be my life partner only to walk out empty handed and cold. I was convinced by rampant, atelophobia- fear of imperfection, that the moment I bought the coat something would be wrong with it. The down would cease to be fluffy and warm or the waterproof outershell would immediately become porous like a sponge. At winter continued I would be even cold and wet minus the money I had foolishly spent on defective goods. This conjures up my peniaphobia, fear of poverty.

Peniaphobia convinces me that my next purchase will break the bank. From my cardboard box on the edge of town I will realize that that money spent on the overpriced substandard winter coat in 2006 is what put me on skid row. I will have no one to blame but my expensive tastes and poor decisions. The fact that I think I will be living in a cardboard box because of a single clothing purchase demonstrates an unwieldy deep seated poinephobia, fear of punishment. My mother impressed upon me that the consequences of every punishable action were a greater punishment than what she could ever mete out. Every wrong turn was followed by an interminable waiting game that made losing privileges, getting beaten and being grounded seem like paradise. I neither knew when punishment would come nor what it was linked to. Did I fall off my horse during the lesson because I had made fun of Michelle Pekdilides’ name or was it because I grabbed more than one body of Christ wafer at communion. I would never know but it is certain the retribution for careless shopping would be great.

While shopping I sometimes develop severe ochlophobia, fear of crowds, or as prefer to call them mobs. People, and by people I mean women, in discount department stores can become rabid. They become possessed by the idea that an article of clothing or accessory is unique, although I doubt it possible or financially viable for an overseas sweatshop to produce just one of any item. I have seen tug of wars break out at sample sales. I have seen snatch and grab moves in the racks at Century 21. I have witnessed dignified women break into a run over a Hermes scarf at a deep discount. Witnessing such antisocial activity brings on latent vestophobia, fear of clothing, and often chases me out of a store before I can get to the clearance racks. All of this is horribly amplified by the holiday season. From Black Friday to the day after New Year’s I am both drawn to major shopping arenas by the prospect of finding a great deal and repulsed from them by my respective phobias. The shopping trips are usually aborted midday and I end up in a bar and then back home to do a little tipsy discount shopping online. Happy holidays indeed.