There’s a nice long list of things I won’t be blowing it on, that’s for sure:
Having my nails wrapped (I don’t even like long nails, really, leave alone having something stuck under them to make me look like some kind of calcium freak)
Having my eyebrows threaded (what???)
Buying a designer handbag (It costs how much? C’mon, it’s a bag, for heaven’s sake. I put bus tickets and sandwich wrappers in it)
Sessions on a sun bed (even leaving out the skin cancer risk) (I am pale and proud of it)
Taking out a gym subscription (I. DO. NOT. DO. EXERCISE) (if you work in a museum, that’s enough to be going on with, frankly)
Taking out a subscription to WeightWatchers (OR DIETS)
Detoxing (an even more stupendous con than designer bags)
Taking up golf (if sailing is standing under a shower tearing up banknotes, I hate to think what golf is)
Vertiginous heels a la Victoria Beckham (as illustrated on Zen Mischief recently – nuf said)
Anything described as (quote) Must Have
I’m sure there are others, too, lots of ‘em. Maybe the peeps at the auction I went to in January had the right idea – though I do begrudge the buyer’s premium and VAT – at least those are things you can take pleasure in owning, and can sell again if you change your mind.