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Now I know what a dead-cat-bounce is. Phew.


So a few weeks ago, I decided to fast track my economic education with a compulsory daily pig out on all things finance. I began scanning the business pages in the paper and online, reading as much as I could. I stopped flicking the radio dial or remote control when the finance report came on. I even sat through several prime ministerial addresses about the global financial crisis, only wandering off for snacks twice. Three times tops. How committed is THAT?

Much to my surprise, the economy now has me hooked on its current mix of drama, fear and panic. I find the whole thing gripping. Each night I’ve begun flicking compulsively between the E! entertainment channel and the Sky Buisness channel. Which is how I came to understand that a recession means two consecutive quarters of negative growth – just like Angelina Jolie’s body since she had her twins two consecutive quarters ago.

All the men in my life and several of the women pay close attention to the stock market so I have many excellent teachers in my attempt to speak fluent economy.
In conversation, I’m now able to casually drop in (other people’s) clever opinions like “Oh, I think today was just a dead cat bounce”. I can also confidently use the word ‘bottom’ as a verb (as in, ‘we haven’t bottomed yet’).

My new lingo works a treat with everyone from taxi drivers to people at parties because have you noticed? The economy has suddenly replaced the weather as the default topic for small talk in every situation.

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It’s also the first thing I want to know about when I wake up. I used to ask, “What’s the temperature going to be today?” as I staggered blearily into the kitchen each morning. Now the first words out of my mouth are “How did Wall Street close last night?” Like many, my wallet has replaced my wardrobe as the top-of-mind concern when I’m starting my day.

Anyway, I’ve been looking for a silver lining around this ugly black cloud of financial doom hanging over us and I think I may have found it. Here it is: shopping now has a new name! It’s called “stimulating the economy”! It’s a community service and apparently it’s the duty of every Australian. That’s what Kevin and Wayne have told us and who would dare to be un-Australian in a crisis? Well, me.

All this government urging to ‘spend, spend, spend’ reminds me a bit of Peter Costello urging us to ‘bonk, bonk, bonk’ a few years ago. Back then, I carefully wrote down the treasurer’s instructions to “have one baby for mum, one for dad and one for your country” and I only finished carrying out those precise instructions a couple of months ago.

Just in time for a new treasurer to issue a new mandate: everyone must stop having procreative sex, put their clothes back on and go shopping instead. Immediately.

Sorry Wayne but I stopped shopping earlier this year and I really can’t be bothered to start again, even for my country. It’s like giving up coffee; you do the hard yards, endure the withdrawal headaches and then you’re through the worst of it. Why would you want to undo all that effort?

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Pregnancy was the initial reason I gave up shopping. High waisted jeans don’t really work when you’re knocked up unless the waist is as high as your armpits and gladiator sandals are a bitch with swollen ankles. But then? Stopping-shopping became a habit. Now I’m frugal beyond all imagining. I’ve turned not shopping into sport and I apply the same dedication I used to devote to accumulating things to…..not accumulating them. I feel greener too. Less consumption, more closet space.

The only pair of shoes I’ve bought this year have been some grey Converse trainers on sale at Rebel Sport for $45.

Wait. Before you send sympathy flowers, I’m totally OK with my self-imposed shoe drought. It doesn’t even feel like a sacrifice because I still have a stack of beautiful (and utterly impractical) shoes gathering dust in my wardrobe. Well not actually gathering dust because I compounded the exorbitant cost of the shoes by throwing yet more cash away on those plastic boxes to store them in. That was good for the environment, wasn’t it?

So now I can look at my fancy-pants shoes and be reminded that I have no reason to ever take them out of their see-through boxes. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just put the cash into the plastic boxes and left the sparkly shoes at the shop for Kylie Minogue to wear to awards shows.

Or maybe I could stimulate my own economy by selling my shoes on Ebay while awaiting further lifestyle instructions from the treasurer.