So, I got a haircut on Friday. This is only to set the stage – a $30 to cut hair stage. Not my usual expense for hair, I’ll tell you. I was only there because I didn’t get a cheaper chance before I left the city.
While waiting for my free (as in available) stylist, I had time to peruse the available reading material. First, I wondered where all the hair style magazines were. Half the fun of getting a haircut at a trendy locale is to laugh at what counts as trendy. No matter. Find something else. But what?
I felt weirdly bummed by the selection. Not that I actually thought there would be useful news or intellectual things at a salon, but really, is it assumed by a lot of women that the only things women need to care about are make-up, home decorating, fashion, celebrities (one mag featured 27 pages of Michael Jackson’s last days), or Cosmopolitan?
It’s the Cosmo I want to beak about right now – not the sexual tips, or “What he really thinks” columns that are fairly educational (for dopes like me, at least). There was an article in the September 2009 issue written by some gal who had a credit card when she was 17, overused it all through university, and applied for and got more of them after grad.
It took until she owed more than $20,000 before she realized maybe she had a problem. She was in the habit of shopping for emotional support, but also had to buy one of every colour and the most expensive clothes at that. Had to look hot at the bar, or trendy at work, etc. Can’t do that with forty dollar jeans and discount T’s when you live in L.A., I guess. She finally got herself sorted with a budget for paying the cash back over five years, assuming she never uses another one.
Okay, good for wanting to fix it, at least. Well done, random fashion whore. Now, flip to the back of the Cosmo where the ads illustrate setting up trendy outfits to wear to work, assuming you get to work beside Justin Long (which is the only reason I stopped to look. I’ve liked that kid ever since Galaxy Quest and I hope he has a great career.)
The gal’s outfits were ridiculous for work, but it was the prices of each item that blew my little prairie girl mind. $450 bracelets. $550 shoes. A pair of ugly ass boots they never did reveal the price of so you know it’s steep. $197 dress with a belt worth almost as much and another pair of $500 toe torturers.
But watch out for that pesky credit debt, girls.