What is it about clothes that make us women lose our minds?  I set out this morning with no intention of spending any money.  Which I don’t have, incidentally.  My intention was to buy a newspaper and a cup of coffee.  And window shop.  One of the last pleasures left to women with no money.

I walked past Wizards Vintage.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of them - irresistible, knee high, lace ups boots.  Leather softer than a feather.   As I stared at them, I distinctly heard voices -  ‘Sandi, Sandi… feel us, touch us, bring us your tired feet…’

The two salesmen see me coming.  They preen at the entrance. They smile invitingly, gliding around, hauling out a veritable array of winter fashion.  Before I know it, I’m trying everything on.  They tell me how gorgeous I look, each item better than the last.

‘We have a lovely black skirt to go with those boots,’ they say.  ‘And a top to die for.  A jacket to match the skirt.  And this gorgeous camisole for under.  A lacy black bra.  And stockings.  And panties.  And a hairdo.  Manicure.  A wax…’

They give me a glass of Dom Perignon as I try on.  And another.  And another.  For a moment I forget why I’m there, we’re laughing so much, drinking our champagne, talking about how perfect I am.

I like these two men.  I think we’ll be friends.

I leave, overladen with bags.   

I get home.  Tell my boyfriend sit down while I give him a fashion show.

He is not like the two men at Wizards Vintage.  He does not tell me how beautiful I look. Or how perfect I am.  He does not give me champagne.  Instead, he gives me some advice.

‘Take it all back now.  Or I will leave you…’

I don’t think I like that advice.

As I return everything to the two very disappointed salesmen, I realise -  I prefer them to myboyfriend.

But it makes no difference.   I leave. With my newspaper, cup of coffee, a small hangover and a Monday filled with regrets.  I would’ve looked so good in those boots…