WE’RE in the midst of a social experiment. When I say ‘we’, I don’t mean ‘us’ as in ‘you and I’; I mean ‘we’ as in ‘my friends and I’. It’s meant to be an experiment, but it’s actually a competition.
Well, it’s not a competition; I just keep calling it that. It really is meant to be a social experiment.
What happened was that I met with several amigos for a quiet luncheon in the Liberty Grill in Cork last week. It was then that one of our group, Edel, mentioned that she had heard about a friend of a friend who admitted to spending €700 on clothing during one shopping blitz.
“I’d say I wouldn’t spend that in one year,” Edel announces. She then goes on to say that, following on from this, she has decided to conduct a social experiment whereby she will record and document every item of clothing she buys for an entire year.
Upon hearing this news, I exchange dubious glances with fellow lunch comrade Tash (who happens to be a queen on Cork’s retail business scene). We both know this is something which we should not involve ourselves in for fear the results would blast us with a reality too harsh for either of us to handle.
But never being one to turn down a challenge (that’s a lie, actually: I always take the easy option if it’s available), I decide that I would join Edel in her social experiment - which was now a competition.
“Lads, it’s not a competition. It wouldn’t even make sense if it were a competition. Like, what type of competition would it even be? Who can spend the most, or who can spend the least?” says Edel, attempting to introduce some reason into proceedings. “It’s a social experiment.”
Whatever, it’s definitely a competition. I’m just not sure what sort of competition but it is - and I’m getting a spreadsheet because I’m sure that will help me win.
We set about implementing ground rules. Items to record should be these: all types of clothing, to include socks, underwear and shoes but to exclude accessories and handbags.
Problems began to arise almost immediately. We tell other friends of our plan and shocking accusations such as “Ye’re going to forget about this” were levied against us. These were coupled with vicious attempts to drill holes in our cast-iron plans. They started saying things like: “Why are ye not including accessories? What about hats and scarves? Are they an accessory? Shouldn’t everything be included?” and so on and so forth.
Yes, yes, these suggestions led to some confusion, but we ploughed on with our plans regardless.
As far as I could tell, I would encounter just two problems with this whole plan. The first being to actually remember to record my purchases, and the second being that the stark reality of how much I spend on clothing might send me into a deep spiral of depression.
Despite this, I pledge to keep a true and accurate recording of purchases.
Yeah. That would be fine if I didn’t keep forgetting. So far for the month of June, I can recall purchasing one maxi dress and two cardigans ... I think. I’m almost positive there was a trip to Penney’s somewhere along the way, but for the life of me I can’t remember what I bought.
I’ve been scanning my memory for at least 30 seconds and I’ve drawn a complete blank.
What could I have bought, I wonder, what? I can distinctly remember some accessories, but that would mean I bought something to go with the accessories ... or did I? Hmm, now I think the accessories were actually bought to go with a top which I bought on the same day. And if that were the case, they were bought at the end of May and not at the start of June, which would mean they don’t count.
The social experiment/competition only started at the beginning of June. Hmm, is that all I’ve bought so far in June? I’m so gonna win this thing.