Once in a while I go a little crazy while shopping for clothes. It doesn't happen very often--not often enough to call these cyclic binges or anything. But every now and then (every few years perhaps) the mood strikes me, fortuitously or unfortunately in tandem with the zeitgeist of shopping bargains, and I buy big bags of clothes and shoes.
It is perhaps understandable that I buy shoes whenever they are available. This opportunity may not after all arise again for years, given my small feet, which are delicate and sensitive. The shoes must not only be the right size but the right configuration to be wearable with my corns.
But truthfully, I have closets full of clothes and probably no real need for new ones. Yet I do buy them, mostly at charity consignment stores. The items at some of these places are unique, and are not generally the sorts of things I would ever be able to afford or would even see in the places I generally shop, so I indulge myself, for charity, spending very small amounts for individual items, but it adds up. I feel sometimes like a collector of art, though the things I collect are hardly art. Yet adorning the body is something I take to as naturally as a primeval warrior applying war paint or feathers. It is a way of celebrating the body and the spirit.
I do not read or pay attention to fashion magazines, but I gleefully indulge in color and style of my own choosing, for the same reason that I enjoy variety in food and the rest of my life. It's part of being myself, of being alive.