The Shoe That Broke My Bank Account

We’ve all heard the broke college student stereotype. Maybe we’ve jokingly used it in conversation or maybe we’ve truly had to scrape together pennies one month just to buy a Norbucks coffee. But, we all share one thing. We’re indubitably addicted to the catastrophic thrill of online purchasing.

Once upon a time, I was scrolling through my Facebook page when I saw an advertisement from Revolve.com with pictures of models wearing the exact outfits I had put in my online shopping cart not more than three days ago. Was it coincidence? Fate? A terribly scary moment where I realized how far advertising has pierced the seemingly-private sphere? In my mind, it’s all three, but I still clicked the link and bought something anyways — unknowingly purchasing the shoe that broke my bank account.

However, that was then, and this is now — when there are shoes, skirts, satin dresses, and leather jackets that have broken this already broke college student’s bank account. As much as I have endlessly continued convincing myself I need them all, the procession of empty package boxes lining up under my bed has called into question their absolute “necessity,” and made my parents, roommate, and boyfriend ponder the same thing.

But nonetheless, every month I seem to find myself in similar predicaments. In a world where thousands of clothing websites catered to naive, newly independent college students pop up all over the internet, how are we to stay strong? When cute clothes, purses, and jewelry are a quick click away, who is stopping me from saving my credit card information, and coming back for more again, and again, and again. The answer is Bank of America actually, but that’s a different story. Websites like Hello Molly, Tobi, Pretty Little Thing, and Lulus are so omnipresent that I can’t go even five Facebook posts down my newsfeed without seeing an advertisement for one of them. These online stores also tend to have very low prices — making it even harder to keep saying “no.”

One of my personal favorites, Revolve, provides free shipping and returns, and rapid delivery. From shoes to swimwear, it has them all, and for a designer price, you can get any accessory or clothing item at home in two to three business days. What’s not to love? The scary thing is that I know I won’t stop compulsively shopping there until I have a bad experience with something I bought and need to return it. The burden of undesirable clothing returns is cumbersome.

I am of the belief that online shopping addictions deserve their own department of psychology to study them. What about the allure of immediate, cute clothes staggers college students (God I hope it’s other college students) into bankruptcy so easily? Is it the instant gratification, the glamorization of material things, or unrealistic models portraying them in societally-desirable ways? Maybe it's a combination of all three or maybe it's just like smoking. You don’t think one cigarette is harmful until you’re hooked, have four pairs of shoes in the mail, and your parents threaten to cut off your credit card. I hope this article sends a beacon of hope to all online shopping-indebted college students, and a call to action for serious treatment of this paralyzing addiction. Always remember in these times of great need: refrain from that daunting, devilish “Confirm Payment.”