I bought a new pair of sunglasses (see photo)! Six months ago I had lunch with a friend who was wearing really snazzy glasses from Warby Parker. He offered to email the sales people at their showroom ahead of time whenever I decided to go so I could have a more personal buying experience. Totally pumped, I immediately put “buy sunglasses” on my calendar for the following weekend. I know this was a long time ago because I was wearing a maxi-dress and espadrilles in New York. Over the last six months I, every week or so, shifted the “buy sunglasses” appointment on my calendar a week or two ahead. Every few weeks I went online, browsed through their online selection, and played with the “virtual try-on” feature, telling myself that the upcoming weekend was the weekend that I would go and buy a pair.

This situation would make sense if I couldn’t afford the sunglasses. If I had to save money or wait for a paycheck it would be logical and reasonable. However, there really is no logical or reasonable explanation. I could easily afford them, I needed a new pair of sunglasses, I really liked a bunch of Warby Parker’s styles, I am a huge fan of their business model, have enjoyed watching the company grow since it’s launch, and I had plenty of open afternoons over the last six months during which I could have jumped on the subway downtown. I just couldn’t get myself to spend the money.

I need things, and I have money, but I hate exchanging money for things. When I do buy something, I take months to mull it over and ask dozens of friends/family members for their opinion. Typically, they tell me to chill out. Recent examples are my Ipad mini, Cole Haan loafers, a Kate Spade school bag, even moisturizer. All are things, including the sunglasses, that I will use on at least a weekly basis for many years.

The funniest part of this introspective examination of my spending habits is what I am willing to spend money on without stressing, predominately food. Spending big bucks on a nice dinner out doesn’t make me blink but the prospect of spending that same amount of money on a shirt seems ridiculous to me. It isn’t logical per se, it’s emotional. Food is an experience that is best shared with friends. You aren’t just paying for what is on the plate. There is a whole ‘performance’ that takes place from being seated, to spending two hours chatting undistracted with good company, to a cup of espresso with dessert. Yes, the experience ends, but some of my best memories from childhood are centered on food. Each time I think back to a spectacular meal I re-live a bit of that experience. Those recipes and dishes become a part of my history.

In contrast to this, a shirt is a long term purchase with a one time high. You go into a store, try on a pretty new top, and suddenly feel like a whole new women. You change back into your clothes, pay at the register, and leave with a piece of fabric folded in a bag with a bit of tissue paper and a big logo on the side. You get home, cut the tags off, throw it in the wash (they put icky chemicals on clothes so they don’t wrinkle!), and carefully place it into your dresser next to all of the other shirts with which you went through the same ritual. Chances are that you wear it the next day, and maybe again the week after that, but after a while it blends into all of the other “totally amazing!” shirts that you have. Eventually, you look into your drawer and question why you bought it in the first place. Rather than being full of shiny memories like a good meal, it’s a piece of fabric folded into a rectangle and crammed in the back corner of a drawer.

So yeah, I am totally over thinking this. But some things I can not help but over think. I love my sunglasses right now but, no offense to Warby Parker, I am anxious that in a few months when I open the fancy case that they came in, they wont seem so awesome. That said, I would much rather spend excessive time and energy pondering a physical purchase and loving experiences, than the other way around. Things are temporary, experiences last forever.