My favourite teacups (Anthropologie)

Uh-oh. A faucet is faulty, and this money tap is dripping. Ok, maybe gushing.

While I love and admire beautiful things, I don’t shop much. Big shopping places scare me. And I am terribly stingy. I think I have mentioned it before, but I satisfy my lurking desire to shop by visiting the local Vinnie’s once a week.

We have just spent the last week in California, however, and it has been hard to resist picking up the old credit card and swiping it through. Things seem so reasonably priced, especially with the healthy Australian dollar. And did I mention things are so beautiful?

For example, we visited Baby Gap today. Previously I may have avoided such a place for some vague, ethical aversion against sweat shops, but I was lured in by the 50% off everything sign out the front. Not only that, but the racks at the back had been marked down to $6 or something crazy, so $20 later, I walked out with a bunch of stylish kids clothes (including crazy pink, purple and black swirly leggings). I may have forsaken my ethical self on this occasion, but I sure satisfied my frugal one.

My ethical self and my frugal self made a truce at Woodland’s fancy supermarket this afternoon when I picked up 2 tubes of environmentally friendly el naturale sunscreen for $9 each. In Australia, I think I pay about $27 for an equivalent bottle of sunscreen. And there we have so much sun, we need it relentlessly!

My favourite shop has been Anthropologie . Every aesthetic bone in my body was satisfied by this incredible store. It sells fashionable, colourful, sexy clothes for women, original and inspiring home-wares, textiles…even door knobs. Gush. And everything was laid out beautifully. Stylish, creative, designer-type friends of mine, listen up. You must find and visit this store if ever you come to California. All I bought was a hand-woven letter ‘E’ for Elka’s door – unfortunately I couldn’t afford to spell her name…but I couldn’t leave without at least one souvenir.

So, fixing that leaky faucet, and turning that tap off tight. Until my next Californian adventure.

Where is your shopping achilles heel?