Home » The Addict Wears Prada | A Real Shopaholics Story

The Addict Wears Prada | A Real Shopaholics Story

Clad in cashmere, a fresh-face cleansed with La Prairie and a Mulberry Mitzy slung over my shoulder. I looked the epitome of ‘success’. But what lurked beneath the glossy exterior was insatiably eating away at my marriage, my career and my sanity.

Addiction wasn’t supposed to look this good!

There’s a common misconception surrounding addicts: they’re greasy haired, yellow toothed and sallow skinned. But among us, an estimated 6% of the population, are shopaholics. Unlike ‘normal’ shoppers, shopping addicts aren’t motivated by value or usefulness. We shop through compulsion to relieve stress, gain social approval and improve our self-image.

Claire Clarke, a referral consultant for charity Action on Addiction, said “It all boils down to the same thing — [the addict] wanting to change the way they are feeling by taking a substance or doing some sort of behaviour to get a high. Some may dismiss [shopping addiction]. But it is a serious mental health issue. It can lead to people being in serious debt, isolating loved ones and ruining their lives.”

Shopaholism has long been trivialised on the front-covers of fuchsia-spattered novels and as the subject of whimsical rom-coms. But just because we don’t look like we’re beating on death’s door with a track-marked, skeletal fist doesn’t mean we’re not on a path to complete self-destruction.

In 2010 I’d reached breaking point and checked-in to rehab for a 5-week stay to ‘get clean’ from shopping addiction. My shopaholism didn’t creep up overnight, neither was it as glamorous as Hollywood would have you believe. When I arrived at rehab I was desperate for help. I was a blubbering wreck, riddled with depression, dosed up on anti-depressants and in a toxic marriage. I was unable to mother my two young sons as my hectic, fix-seeking mind was only able to focus on the next purchase – because, of course, that next buy will be the last and, will make me happy!

The shame, guilt and neurosis associated with substance addiction, were very real in my seemingly ‘fluffy’ addiction. I sat among alcoholics, heroin addicts and anorexics, our poisons were different but our symptoms – and fate – were the same.

It had taken a pair of Helmut Lang leather trousers with an £800 price tag to make me realise how low I’d sunk. We weren’t well-off, perhaps ‘comfortable’ for a young family who’d benefitted from high property prices in the early-mid noughties. To us, £800 was two mortgage payments/two months’ worth of food shopping/a helluva lot of wonga to spend on an ill-fitting, hotter-than-hell pair of trousers!

I’d raided every family and business bank account, pawned sentimental jewellery, maxed out the deck of credit cards I’d amassed and had more loans than pairs of knickers, to fund my addiction. What did I have to show for it? A wardrobe full of last season’s Net-a-Porter ‘must-haves’ that I could never wear for fear of being caught.

After my rehab stint it took two years, innumerable group and private therapy sessions, 12-step meetings, divorce and walking away from my business to be happy with the person I saw in the mirror. I’d broken the addictive cycle and could instead focus on being a present mum for my sons.

Now, when I spend, I spend thoughtfully and with intention. I ask myself a number of self-analysing questions about the purchase but, the best litmus test of all “will I hide this purchase from my mum?” if the answer’s “yes” then I’m acting out. I walk away, get perspective and soon realise I feel just the same, usually better, without having splurged the cash.

NOTE: Sorry if this piece may seem a bit impersonal (funny, considering how personal the subject matter is) and not my usual style of writing for my blog; it was originally written as part of my writing course with Laura Jane Williams but I’ve never had the balls to pitch it to any of the mags I admire. So, it’s the perfect reaction to a lot of questions I’ve had over the past few days about my addiction and it deserves a bit of airtime.


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  1. Melanie
    April, 2019 / 10:17 pm

    A bloody brilliantly written piece Jess! Honest, refreshing and open, to be able to share such a big part of your life takes balls, and my goodness you’ve got some!! Xx

  2. Lou
    April, 2019 / 10:23 pm

    Thank you Jess for such an honest and open piece. Gosh how bloody real it feels and sounds !
    I always covet that next perfect handbag or pair of shoes that will make me feel awesome and.. of course .. if I get it/them then everything in the World will be right 🤨
    Some debt later and I’m not any happier – but thank you for your words and I will now follow by example and really think about a spend and take time to consider it. And if I still think I want it in a few weeks- then I will save for it . Your stories on IG yesterday were very helpful too x

  3. Jess Scanlon
    April, 2020 / 3:46 pm

    A really good piece Jess

  4. May, 2020 / 10:49 am

    My sins were shoes, rows of them that I couldn’t were in a month of Sundays. I wore duty shoes for work ( Nurse ) all my glamour shoes stayed untouched in their boxes. I lied through my teeth when I dressed to go out with then husband, always said I’ve had them and cloths ages. Life catches up, I’m a pensioner now, mobility not too good and can’t wear heels anymore. Oh dear…….

  5. J
    May, 2020 / 2:02 pm

    Hi there, I am reading this crying as I have a shopping addiction. I have ran up credit card debt beyond belief, worried my family sick and almost lost my marriage. I need help. I have been to counselling but it makes no difference. I need help. So refreshing to read something that rings so many alarms. Thank you. Hope I can find help like you did before it’s too late. Xxx