New You Shopping Spree

A women checking her phone while shopping.
Photograph by Thomas Barwick / Getty 

Welcome to February, the second month of the Year of New You! How’s that going so far? If the answer is not quite what New You had hoped for in January, don’t worry. There are still ways to transform.

It all starts with a thought like this: After a long January, in the latest year of a hard decade, New You deserves happiness. Time to get some. Right now! And just like that, on a February day full of potential, New You sets off down the street, seeking.

It’s the smell of the handbag’s leather—shiny, rich, and layered—that makes student loans no longer exist. No one with this bag hooked on the crook of their arm could also be bearing the crushing weight of debt on their shoulders. This bag must belong to New You.

It’s the curve of the sunglasses’ frames that proves that they could only be worn by someone unconcerned about inflation. That person never winces at the price of anything, brow furrowing. The wearer of these sunglasses does not squint—they have conquered the sun. One more New You resolution complete.

It’s the thickness of the face cream and the nod of a “beauty associate” in a crisp lab coat that make it clear that the human using these all-natural ingredients on their skin has everything under control. That person applies pearlescent goop in gentle circles as tiny as their cares. New You has invisible pores and microscopic fears.

It’s the heft of the phone that suggests that the person holding it has reached a constant state of Inbox Zero. Mind wiped clear, they have fulfilled every e-obligation. That person is free to take selfies with an advanced, auto-focussing camera that does not capture a single worried crease on their forehead. New You always looks serene.

It’s the feel of the sweater, slippery soft, and also its plain, blank beauty, that indicates that it belongs on the back of someone supremely confident. They are in need of no logos, just well-woven fabric. They wear only the sweater, no jacket, as they are warmed by a hearth of inner strength and self-regard. New You has a closet full of sweaters like that.

It’s the terrain of the notebook’s cover, textured and thick, that signals it will contain thoughts of the world-changing, fortune-generating variety. The person with such a notebook fears not for the state of our planet. And, yes, it’s the sharp nib of a fountain pen, famed for its ease dancing over pages, that will help unlock New You’s brilliance.

It’s the purr of the diffuser puffing essential, utterly vital, oils into the air that means someone who breathes deeply is nearby. These oils, incense, candles, and wick-trimming scissors form the collection of one capable of elevating not only their own mood, but the moods of those attending the glorious gatherings they host. New Nose is ready.

It’s the age of the whiskey, with its wondrous layers of flavors circling each other like rings of the charred, oak barrel in which it was stored, that conveys that its drinker is deeply connected to the old world and the new. Alive and well deep into the future, New You drinks this elixir and is basically immortal.

It’s the concern in the voice of the woman from the bank calling to ask if your credit card has been stolen that gives you pause. New You tells her no. She knows nothing of your transformation, nothing of the happiness still to be found. This is the road New You takes this time every year. It’s the well-travelled purchase path back to the Old You. ♦