Shopaholic Takes Manhattan (Shopaholic #2)

by Sophie Kinsella

“So . . . how many suitcases have you got now?”

“Oh, you know,” I say, shrugging a little defensively. “The normal amount.”

he left he gave us this huge box full of a hundred KitKats.

the quicker we eat them, the quicker they'll be gone—so in a way, it's healthier just to stuff in as many as possible right away.

Come to think of it, maybe I don't need three pairs of boots. Or a fur stole.

Do you really need a pair of lilac sandals? Or do you just want them?” “No!” I say defensively. “I really need them!

“People who want to make a million borrow a million first.”

How can you expect to make any money if you don't spend it first?

They paid me £1,000 before I'd even written a word—and

the most important thing is to get the title right, and then the rest will just fall into place.

“Do I need this?” And only if the answer is yes do I make the purchase. It's all just a matter of self-discipline.

everyone knows you should never skimp on shoes, because you'll hurt your feet.

When you buy something, you really feel as though you've earned it.

Maybe I should put £90 into a pension fund instead of buying another pair of shoes.

I was just stocking up for the future. You know, like a kind of . . . investment.” “An investment?” “Yes. And in a way, it's saving money—because now I've got these, I won't need to spend any money on shoes next year. None!”

“Listen, Bex, it'll be fine! Just . . . prune away a few things.” She goes to answer the door and I'm left staring at my jumbled bed. Prune away? But prune away what, exactly? I mean, it's not as though I've packed a load of stuff I don't need.

her husband just wants her at home to cook for him.

her husband says it's a waste of money

I'm never going to just . . . stay at home and cook your supper. Never in a million years.”

I've recently started gardening! Or at least, I've bought some sweet little ceramic flowerpots from The Pier, marked “Basil” and “Coriander”—and

“You're just going to pitch up at a farm, are you, and ask if you can milk the cows?”

I was crying laughing when I read this part!

“Why shouldn't I visit a convent? I'm actually a very spiritual person.” “I'm sure you are, my darling,” says Luke, giving me a quizzical look. “You might want to put on more than a T-shirt before you go . . .”

Because once I started donating, I couldn't stop! Each time I parted with a bit more money, I felt a real high.

This is great. I know exactly why he's calling. They're going to give me some free clothes, aren't they? Or maybe . . . yes! They want me to design a new line for them! God, yes. I'll be a designer. They'll call it the Becky Bloomwood collection. Simple, stylish, wearable garments, with maybe one or two evening dresses . . .

maybe you've built up a few debts since then.” “Since June?” I give a little laugh. “But that was only about five minutes ago!

I mean, what's the point of paying

off all your credit cards if they all just go and sprout huge new debts again? What is the point?

All I have to do is write my book really quickly and get a nice big check—and

If only it was that easy!

“Suze—when you decluttered your room, did you keep anything?” “Of course I did!” she says, a little defensively. “You know. A few things.” She meets my gaze. “OK, perhaps I went a bit too far.” “Do you have any underwear left?”

Oh Suze!

This is investment in my career. After all—this is my office, isn't it? It should be well equipped.

So I click on an ergonomic swivel chair upholstered in purple to match my iMac, plus a Dictaphone which translates stuff straight into your computer.

and a mini paper shredder. Which is a complete essential because I don't want the whole world seeing my first drafts, do I?

put the cart before the horse

“Do you exercise regularly?” asks Tony. “Not in a gym,” I say, reaching down to touch my toes—then changing my mind halfway down and resting my hands on my knees. “But I walk a lot.” “Great!” says Tony. “On a treadmill? Or cross-country?” “Round the shops, mostly.” “OK . . .” he says doubtfully.

I feel like a child trying to choose a sweetie in a chocolate factory.

this is America, and everyone knows that prices in America are really low. It's common knowledge. So basically, I'm working on the principle that everything's a bargain.

I remember thinking like this!

I look at her perplexedly—then spot a tiny face poking out of the Gucci tote. Oh my God! Is that a real live dog? “Don't hide, Muffy!” says the woman, reaching into the bag and hauling it out. And honestly, it's more like a rat than a dog—except a rat with a Gucci collar and a diamante name tag.

It costs five hundred dollars, which sounds quite a lot—but then, “a million lira” sounds like a lot too, doesn't it? And that's only about fifty pence.

“. . . sample sale . . .” “. . . Alexander McQueen, pale blue, 80 percent off . . .” “. . . sample sale . . .” “. . . sample sale . . .” I cannot bear this any longer. “Excuse me,” I say, turning round. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation—but I just have to know one thing. What is a sample sale?” The whole gift wrap area goes quiet. Everyone is staring at me, even the lady with the silver pen. “You don't know what a sample sale is?” says a girl in a leather jacket eventually, as though I've said I don't know my alphabet. “Erm . . . no,” I say, feeling myself flush red. “No, I . . . I don't.”

These are my people. I've found my homeland.

“Never invest your own money,” says Michael. “First rule of business.

Lol!

You know, she gave that girl three bourbon biscuits and a KitKat,

‘if the American economy can be in debt by billions and still survive, then so can you.' ”

“OK, so I was naive! But I didn't commit any crime—”

“Have you finished the KitKats?” “No, I haven't,” says Suze, wiping her eyes. “They seem to go more slowly when you're not around.

Time to start again. I'm trying to keep positive, and tell myself I've lots of avenues open to me. But what is the next career move

I don't know much about annuities, but I can always quickly read a book about it.

Before the Google and the internet, there were once these things called books.

You have to let things out of your life to allow the new good things in.”

Oh yes! You must declutter!

Just the thought of trying to decide whether to keep it or not exhausts me.

It can be exhausting, but it feels worth it in the end. You can do this Becky!

“You're too young to settle. Look into your heart—and go after what you really want.”

What do you really want out of life?