Maxxed Out

It is pretty commonly held that I have a real problem with using "retail therapy" as a way to compensate for unhappiness in my life. When I first got out of college, I bought sheets. Lots and lots of sheets for my new full bed. Most of these sheets were by Laura Ashley and were bought at full price. (I haven't bought new sheets in years, because I have so many of them now.)

Then I moved on to pajamas: flannel pajamas, silky pajamas, striped pajamas that looked like something a Victorian military officer would wear. Victoria's Secret to Old Navy, you name it; I bought it. (I also can't tell you the last time I bought new pajamas.)

Now, I am fixated on accessories, in particular pocketbooks. I mean purses, handbags in fabric, leather, and nylon. Designer names induce lust, and I spend significant portions of the lunch hour surfing through Kate Spade's and Nordstrom's websites.

So imagine my delight last night at the Natick Mall when I discovered The Maxx, which is basically TJ Maxx for just accessories. It was an Arcadian paradise in the middle of the suburban sprawl. I was in a state of bliss. And I did buy a new purse, which I got for less than half of what the big stores would have asked for it. I saved so much money, I bought myself a wallet to match.

And they say that I don't understand economics.