Today, Huffington Post writer Ann Brenoff speculated about the idea that as we get older, our interest in shopping fades. As someone who is young, handsome and a self-proclaimed shopaholic, I find this difficult to believe or accept, much like the idea of getting old in general. See, Ann claims (using purely anecdotal evidence, by the way) that as people age, shopping just becomes, well, boring, becoming more like a chore than a hobby. She outlines the tale of taking her teenage daughter to Forever 21 and finding the experience miserable. OH REALLY?! TELL ME MORE, ANN. Forever 21 is miserable for everyone, their target demographic included. They don't give a fuck about customer experience and that's why they can sell dresses for $5.99.
It seems that Ann's story is more one of priorities and maturity than anything else, which, of course, insinuates that shopping for clothes is inherently shallow and immature, and conversely, that being old and swagless is somehow a more righteous path; that spending time hiking is more admirable than walking through a mall. Oh, I'm sorry, do you have to choose one or the other? Damn Ann, haven't you ever heard of Gyakusou? Can't I hit up Nike first and then we can hit the trails? Or would you prefer I wear the same shitty struggle sweats I've been rocking for the past 5 years? 'Cause that sounds just awful at any age.
I don't ultimately disagree that growing older may be enlightening in some ways, and that I may one day grow tired of copping jawnz, but, like everything, don't variables like taste and hobbies simply differ from person to person? I'm sure I could find plenty of 64-year-old men and women who would love to hit up Mr.Porter every Tuesday in search of their latest fix, you know, assuming they won't call me every 5 fucking minutes to ask me again how to enter their shipping information.
