At the stroke of noon when the world was working, I became an icon. My achievement made no headlines nor did I gain an army of fans. There was only a charred hole in my pocket to remind me of my sacrifices.

It happened on an online clothes and accessories site. It had elevated my status from Elite to Icon. All I had to do was shop…A LOT. There was also a catch. I would have to reach a shopping target by next January to keep my status. But I totally was up to the challenge.

Welcome to a day in the life of a shopaholic. Never mind the lockdown and the economic setbacks, I was still shopping and looking hard for discounts – the retail industry was generously offering them to stay afloat – even though I could ill afford the buys. My preferred mode is now online shopping, my method of payment net banking. I am glued to my phone, checking for offers and continuously calculating which corners I can cut to squeeze in an extra buy.

I had read somewhere that there are different types of shopaholics. Mine was always the type that goes weak in the knees at the sight of discounts on upmarket brands. But the pandemic has left me in a bigger mess, caught in a much more vicious cycle.

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The first two months of the lockdown online sites tortured me with attractive offers but delayed deliveries. It’s a whole journey for me to hunt down the perfect loot, buy it at its lowest price and then wear it like a badge of honour. Spending days zeroing in on all those clothes, accessories, shoes and make-up and then not being able to even touch them hurt real bad. I missed the closure.

I turned to “essentials” like moisturisers, shower gels and other toiletries for the adrenaline rush. But how many creams and shampoos can you obsess over? Clothes are the real thing.

Then came the unlock phase and more trouble in my paradise. Departmental stores, people and public trial rooms had started to scare me. So, I decided to stick to online shopping, which had speeded up their deliveries by then.

But then I had an even bigger problem at hand. I had no place to wear my acquisitions while distancing socially. All the cutting corners and braving the judgemental eyes were going to waste. Ill-afforded loots started piling in my wardrobe as I continued to work from home, chat with friends on social media and enjoy my favourite restaurant food in takeaways, not bothering to get out of my shorts.

I decided to dress for the video calls but it’s not easy fitting into the virtual box.

Nobody can make out below your shoulders unless you are an expert at angles.

So now I sit on my bed, looking deep into my wardrobe, into my vast collection that I can barely afford. And yet my hand reaches out as I hear another notification. Is it another discount?

I am an icon of hopeless desire.