A man will never understand this. Never. Even if he graduated from the psychology department of the University of Michigan. Or rather, no, that's not it: all the more so if the man graduated from the psychology department. Or psychiatry.
Of course, a man, especially if he is single and lonely, also goes to stores. But does this action even remotely resemble real shopping?! Not in the slightest! For a man, going into a store means simply making a purchase. As Caesar said: "I came, I saw, I bought." And he bought exactly what he came for—that's the main thing! That's what amazes women. How do they, men, manage to do it? It's a mystery.
For a woman, shopping—if we are to speak in Latin—proceeds under the Olympic motto "Faster, Higher, Stronger!" For in the store, appetite comes during the buying and grows until the money in the wallet runs out. Especially if a woman indulges in this activity while traveling. There, beyond the horizon, far from home, from the dear motherland and beloved husband, from the kind eyes of the mother-in-law and the nervous atmosphere of parent-teacher meetings, the shopping process is absolutely irreversible. Well, irreversible—and that's that. Period. Basta. Finita la commedia.
This happens not at all from malicious intent. It happens imperceptibly, gradually, against one's will. Maybe I didn't even intend to buy anything! I'm not guilty—it came to me itself, this plaid suit. And don't I need shoes to go with it? And a handbag? And a brownish, ultra-long-lasting lipstick with jojoba oil, which will make my lips softer than silk? And underwear to match the plaid? It's all very serious!
Stages of a long journey
If you think about it, the shopping process begins on the plane. And it begins with printed matter. Because even if a considerate airline hasn't put some glossy magazine in the back of the seat in front of you, one is sure to be found in a lady's handbag. You have to relax on the way! As you relax, sitting in the airplane seat, your eyes are drawn to "dramatic sandals," "trendy backpacks," "sensational tights," "revolutionary sneakers" and other things absolutely essential to every self-respecting lady.
As you become aware of the necessity of the upcoming purchases, a flight attendant approaches with a long-range artillery piece called "duty-free." Pretty little boxes peek out invitingly from the installation. In such a situation, it is very hard to answer the flight attendant's questioning gaze with a laconic "No, thank you." It is much more pleasant to buy a Gucci watch at a ridiculously low in-flight price.
At the arrival airport, the desire to buy is skillfully supported and fueled by advertising posters. While you stand in line for passport control or simply ride the escalator, you involuntarily gaze at pretty pictures. There you have Mikimoto and Yamamoto, and Burberry with its plaids, and fake little pearls "Mahoriki." And all of this is so close, so accessible, so necessary for life, that a single and irresistible urge arises: quickly! Forward! To the city! To the Mikimotos and Mahorikis! Now the main goal of the trip seems to be shopping excursions. "If a chance to shop comes up, it would be a sin not to take it," every lady who has gotten off a plane in London, Berlin, Paris, Milan, Singapore, New York, and other cities of the planet, except one sixth of its landmass, reasons. The situation of being in Paris and buying nothing, innocent at first glance, automatically moves into the category of mortal sins.
Getting your luggage and finding transportation distracts somewhat from the main idea of the trip, but the road from the airport to the hotel already brings your thoughts back on track. Since along this route, as a rule, you constantly encounter large suburban shopping malls. You read the names that are dear to your heart and involuntarily console yourself with the thought that there are no fewer stores in the city, and the cherished hour is approaching when their doors will open before you.
So it turns out that women are not at all to blame for their unbridled desire to buy. Weak and defenseless, they fly like naive moths into the merciless lights of shop windows. And they fall under the sardonic smirks of men: "And I thought you wanted to see the city. And I also thought you already bought three pairs of sandals last week." She did want to see the city! And she bought the sandals in advance so as not to be distracted by shopping while traveling. In short, I'm not guilty! It came to me itself, this plaid suit...
Why we do it
Doctors say that shopping affects men and women differently. In men, this activity sharply raises blood pressure and quickens the pulse, they become extremely irritable, and some even display inappropriate behavior. That is, it won't kill, of course, but it could lead to divorce.
In women, the pulse may also quicken, but to the benefit of the body. Even very long (by men's estimation) shopping trips cause ladies not fatigue but a surge of strength. While shopping, they raise their vitality, improve their mood, and generally feel complete comfort.
Some domestic psychotherapists even advise their female patients to go shopping to relieve stress. They say it helps better than any antidepressants. It doesn't matter at all what you buy: clothes, cosmetics, or books. The main thing is to immerse yourself in the process.
There it is—the mysterious Russian soul: the entire enlightened world is inventing medicines for a new disease—shopaholism—while we prescribe shopotherapy. The thing here is not the soul, but on the contrary, limited material means. Our stores are worse, our money is less, and our prices are higher. So you can't really indulge. In short, our people have not yet gotten hooked on the aforementioned disease.
However, when you get to a beautiful foreign city, the mysterious Russian soul also asks for shopping. Well, at least a little, at least just a drop! Even men who hate stores head to Marks & Spencer for socks and shirts. And stress is irrelevant. The main reason for the passion for shopping far from home is not a mental illness, but, on the contrary, the most material reality. It is simply that they have better stores there, more goods, and lower prices.
Immersion in shopping is inevitable. I could not help buying a scarf at the ridiculous price of 50 euros, because back home one like that costs 200 euros. And this cream is not sold here at all, so what am I to do now? Perfume, of course, I bought, because in the capital of our motherland all men's perfume is expensive. And even the pharmacy cosmetics Vichy sold here is somehow strange, made for some reason in Greece, and not at the place where Vichy waters spring. And, mind you, it costs one and a half times more than in the city of Paris. So what conclusion are we to draw?
The conclusion is simple: you have to take it. The threat of late remorse hangs over everyone who neglects opportunities and does not take. Because it only seems that we now have everything. In fact, whatever you try to get, we have nothing. Here is a classic example: Colgate toothpaste in a package with a button. Try to buy this most innocent little thing in our capital. You will not succeed! Even the unfortunate tubes with a cap, even those are made in Poland.
And shopaholism has nothing to do with it.