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Friday, October 3, 2014

Where's My Fudging Birthday Present?

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I’ve been in a bit of a quandary over the last few weeks. I’ve been in Struggletown.

Struggletown Upon Avon, actually.

Remember back when I wrote a post (here) about the glamorous, signature fragrance enveloping Australia’s most popular blogger, Mrs Woog from Woogsworld?

And how, if I can’t have a blog like hers the least I can do is try to smell like her? 

Well fortunately, Mrs Woog left a comment on that post alerting me to the name of her perfume thus enabling me to persist with my stalking behaviour. 

As I had a birthday approaching I decided to ferret around to determine the availability and pricing of said fragrance.

A few weeks ago I wandered into a shopping mall after work to check if the specialty fragrance store had it in stock.

After a cursory glance at my inelegant ensemble the twenty- something guy sitting behind the counter continued to play on his iPhone and ignored me. 

To be fair, I was wearing my sports teacher get-up incorporating dirty runners and elastic-waisted shorts and everyone knows if you want aristocratic shop assistants in posh shops to pay you any attention you have to look like you have more than a five cent piece and a half eaten packet of Mentos in your purse.

“Excuse me,” I said in the hoity-toity voice I save for these occasions. “Do you happen to have a perfume called Balenciaga?”

He opened a drawer and took out his catalogue of rare and high-class toilet waters.

“Yes we do,” he replied. “It’s $189 for a 100 ml bottle.”

“Okay,” I swallowed, “I have a birthday coming up so I’ll be back.”

Way too extravagant for a peasant teacher, I thought.

He shrugged. “Just so you know we’re closing down in a few weeks.”

“Oh!” I chirped. “So will you be having a closing down sale?”

The indolent sneer was back. “Our fragrances are already heavily reduced,” he sniffed.

But the desire for a bottle of the liquid gold did not stop there.

Every week I would return to the mall and sidle past the fragrance shop peering in to see Lord Snooty hunched over his phone. There were no signs of the shop closing and my birthday came and went.

“You didn’t buy me anything for my birthday,” I accused husband Scotto, in my whimpering voice last night.

“That’s because you haven’t ordered the perfume you want from the chemist, Pinky!” he replied in exasperation. “I told you to do it last week!”

“I know,” I grinned. “Just making sure you haven’t forgotten.”
I’d found out I could order it from the chemist you see, but it was at the same exorbitant price as Malfoy had quoted me and I was digging my parsimonious heels in.

I was waiting for that closing down sale; patiently biding my time like a crouching vulture waiting for the cheetah to leave the wildebeest carcass so it can pick the bones.

I decided today, being the last day of school holidays and my ninth present-less day, I’d go back to the mall for one final scavenge.

Lord Snooty was gone; and so was half the stock. A small blonde girl stood in his place playing with her iPhone.

I rushed in breathlessly.

“Do you have any Balenciaga?” I trembled, sweat beading in my moustache.

She pulled out a gift box with not only a 100ml bottle of the perfume but a complimentary bottle of body lotion. Best of all it had a big red sticker on it delightfully declaring it was on sale at $120!


You paid WHAT for this???

The moral of the story is… A handful of patience is worth more than a watched pot that never boils because the pot is clearly broken and will never boil.

What's the most frivolously expensive thing you've indulged in?