Azzara: In defense of the shopaholic

Since 2009 has recently come to a close, I would like to share something that happened this year… Since 2009 has recently come to a close, I would like to share something that happened this year with you, something that filled a lifelong void within me. It was the summer of 2009 when I first heard of this strange and wonderful happening at my local mall: the opening of a Forever 21 store.

This might not seem like such a monumental event, but to me, it was truly great news. If you are a female between the ages of 10 and 30, perhaps there is no need for me to detail the appeal of a store like Forever 21. But for all of the clueless men out there, let me just say that you will be hard-pressed to find a girl who doesn’t like to shop at Forever 21.

Sure, most people don’t obsess about it the way I do, but shopping there is always an exciting experience. This store is full of clothing and accessories that seem copied straight from the runways and the pages of fashion magazines. And if this blatant imitation sounds like a bad thing to you, remember that Forever 21 is probably the closest that most of us will get to emulating the styles created by famous designers. I suppose I should be slightly embarrassed by my obsession with the store, since most girls probably went through their Forever 21 — or whichever store happened to be their weak spot — phase somewhere around the 10th grade. But I have a theory as to why I remain fascinated by it, even during my second year of college.

You see, although I am no longer a teenager, and Forever 21 aims its appeal at teens and tweens, I never had the opportunity to shop there growing up. My local mall was sadly devoid of one. I did, however, hear stories of its greatness from faraway places, and I had a handful of opportunities to actually visit the store. Yet the lack of a local store always left me feeling like I was thoroughly deprived of a teen rite of passage.

So it was with this mindset that I began the arduous, anxious wait for my very own Forever 21 store. And finally, after a long wait and many false alarms regarding the store’s opening, it arrived. I was Christmas shopping at the mall a few days before Dec. 25 when I suddenly noticed people walking by with bags that looked suspiciously like they came from Forever 21. My sister and shopping buddy, Emily, warned me not to get my hopes up, because she had been there a few days before, and it had not yet opened. But I believed.

Suddenly, as we rounded a corner, we saw the store in all its colorful, sparkling glory. Forgetting every name on my shopping list, I ran into the store in a state of sheer bliss and didn’t look back.

Inside, it was more exciting than Christmas morning.

As a veteran shopper, the experience got me thinking about all the fervor behind shopping that enraptures almost every girl at some age. Surely there are others who have gotten the same “kid on Christmas morning” feeling from shopping somewhere that had previously been inaccessible. But perhaps that feeling goes beyond clothing stores. After all, we’ve all heard stories of kids who were never allowed to eat candy and go on to overdose on sugar.

Over winter break, my uncle told me a story about a friend of his who, to this day, drinks milk with every meal. As it turns out, his family never had enough money to buy milk when he was growing up, so as soon as he was able to taste milk for the first time, he drank nothing else.

Even the most seasoned shopaholic won’t spend money indiscriminately at just any store. We all have our choice stores. Deprive a girl of her favorite store long enough, and she’s sure to gorge herself upon release. Be warned.

But my infatuation with Forever 21 is not an inherent flaw. In fact, my love of the store seems a natural human reaction. So after having this enormous hole in my life filled at the very end of 2009, I am now ready to see what the coming year will bring. And I know exactly what that is: a Cheesecake Factory opening in the very same mall in 2010, which I am extremely excited about. I never had one of those growing up, either.

E-mail Katie at kna6@pitt.edu.