I never thought I would enjoy shopping for clothes, and that maxim generally holds true for me.  Accompanying my wife on a clothes shopping excursion feels like the 7th level of hell to me.  Nor am I into “fashion” (whatever that means).  Heck, I have trouble deciding if two shades of green “go” together or not.  However, something has recently happened that I can barely believe I’m going to say.  Recently Amazon offered a pseudo-exclusive shopping experience called MyHabit, and I’m kind of addicted.  To help sell this thing, they are also offering $25 off your order through the end of the summer.  To sweeten the impulse-buying pot, there are no shipping costs in the US, and some of the items are actually priced $25 or less (meaning they’re basically free).

So I decided to give it a whirl.  These are brand names/designers that I have never heard of—or would normally turn my nose up at them as hoity-toity nonsense.  But then a strange chain of events began to occur, starting with the premise that new sales occur every day at 9am PT.  I used to mosey on over to the site a bit after that start time (an hour or more), and notice that everything at that magic $25 or less price was sold out.  So I would head over a bit earlier each subsequent time, but to no avail.  I quickly realized what was probably happening was the equivalent of e-bay “sniping” in reverse—a mad virtual dash to refresh the site and throw everything possible in your cart that you might want (though there’s a 10 minute time limit to keep items in your cart) as soon as the sale became available.  This was confirmed when one fateful (and embarrassing) afternoon I was refreshing every few seconds starting at 11:59 and when the new sale came up, went immediately over to the men’s section, looked for my size, only to see that the items were already in members’ carts.

Kinda like that scene from Dawn of the Dead...

How could this be?  Unless someone was using a computer script and taking advantage of the machine’s ability to react in nanoseconds compared to my reaction time which is measured in lethargic “regular” seconds.  But then an insidious thought dawned on me: maybe those items didn’t actually exist—maybe they were merely shiny unattainables meant to draw us in to browse the other items that were priced higher and that we might buy on a whim (or as a consolation prize for missing out on free clothes).  I became convinced that I must either 1) be quick enough to buy one item priced at $25 or less, or 2) prove that the thing is a scam.

So far I’ve achieved neither, much to my wife’s amusement.

Taking a step back, I wonder how I could have gotten suckered into these mad virtual dashes for items I wouldn’t even look at in a regular store.  Perhaps it’s my competitive nature and my need to win.  Maybe it’s the idea of getting something for “free.”  It could even be a subconscious need to subject myself to ridicule or as an object of bemused fascination by others since I’m blogging about it.

I’ve had two interesting reactions to MyAddiction.  The first was a female friend who asked if “I was turning into a woman” because I was trying to buy my daughter something cute on the site.  (Last time I checked, I had not, in fact, transformed).

The other was a female cousin who, after I pointed her to some shoes she might like, said: “You get total style points for pointing this out to me and since you are a male relative, 100 bonus points.”  (Thanks cuz!).

Both made me laugh.

At any rate, I’ll keep looking to score that great deal (til the end of the summer anyways), and maybe pick up something fashionable for my own wardrobe which has only just begun to shed the vestiges of the 1980’s…

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