Rita Ora and my painful sports luxe shopping addiction
I am Amy Jackson and I am addicted to shopping.
I don't mean the type of shopping where you treat yourself every now and again. No. I think about shopping most of the time. I pretend to like anywhere I can buy things. Once, after a break up with a boyfriend I could only find a chemist open. I bought myself a pack of three sponges just so I could spend some money.
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Rita Ora
I like to be prepared. I buy outfits to wear to go shopping for new outfits. I buy new make-up to wear to go to the make-up counter, and I buy new shampoo to wash my hair with before I go to the hairdresser's.
If Big Col needs a trip to B&Q, so do I. Who doesn't need a new multi-pack of drill bits anyway?
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Spending money makes me happy. Handing my debit card over to the shop assistant is like joining a secret club. No matter where I am, I cannot help but try and talk to them.
'DON'T YOU THINK WHAT I'M BUYING IS SO NICE?' is my favourite, swiftly followed by (and I have no idea why) 'THIS MIGHT NOT EVEN FIT, I JUST LOVE IT.'
As soon as I have a nice new carrier bag in my hand, I'm pleased.
The one thing I don't buy? Trainers. As far as I am concerned, trainers are ugly, useless pieces of footwear.
Even when I had a brief fling with the gym, back in about the year 2000, I literally jogged in to the nearest sports shop and bought the pinkest pair I could find and jogged back out. I didn't go to the gym that night, I had already done enough exercise, obviously.
The trainers turned out to be a size too small and I'm not even going to admit what happened to my feet next, because if I do I can bank on being single for the rest of my life.
Ever since that moment, I have turned my extra small nose up at the sight of trainers.
Until now. I've ignored the sports luxe trend for months. Seriously, months. It is not for me. I hate the gym.
But then the BFF had to ruin it.
She produced tickets to see Rita Ora as a Christmas present. If there's anybody who does sports luxe well, it's Ora, and when faced with the decision of what to wear to the gig I felt physically sick when I realised what was coming.
Before I knew it, I was in the middle of the shoe shop in a pencil skirt, black tights and trainers. Like a woman possessed I demanded to try on hi-tops in every brand, sprinting round the shop to make sure I hadn't missed anything more sporty.
That day I bought two pairs. TWO PAIRS.
To be fair, one of the pairs has been vajazzled to within an inch of their life, but they are still lace-up, sports brand hi-top TRAINERS.
I spent the night at Rita Ora happily bouncing around. I had to really, I was far too short to see what was going on. Unfortunately for me, I still haven't grasped how to buy trainers in a size that fits and, again, I ended up with a size too small. My feet were in more pain than after a full night in six-inch heels, and the trainers have gone straight back in their box.
But at least I'm prepared. As a shopaholic I will never be caught short. Whether it's trainers, sponges or drill bits.
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