I developed a theory a year or two ago about shopping and ecstasy use. Let’s break it down, shall we?

MDMA (or ecstasy aka E, X, rolls, etc) is a drug that does many things, the most enjoyable of which is releasing seratonin reserves from your brain. Seratonin exists in your brain naturally, and it’s basically your “good feelings” brain juice (I know, I’m making this way too simple, but if you want more in-depth information about MDMA, go here here or especially here).

Anyway, people who have been using a lot of ecstasy frequently find that it “stops working,” meaning the euphoric, empathic rush dwindles. Typically, users respond to this diminishing return by taking more ecstasy, only to find that that doesn’t work either. (More MDMA just feels like more of the MA part of the acronym, which is methamphetamine. Which means that instead of feeling “lovey,” you just feel twitchy, amped up, and on speed.) Many users then go through a bit of a depression, realizing that the easy nirvana isn’t quite as obtainable, and try to fill the emptiness with something else. Some move on to other, more dangerous drugs (speed, coke, etc), others quit doing drugs completely, and still others find a project or passtime to fill the gap.

Now, let’s talk about shopping. In our loverly capitalist society, we (women especially) are taught that buying something makes us better. That new wiget makes you prettier, more popular, smarter, more on top of it, a better person, a better lover, a better friend, a better person. This socially-ingrained “consumer rush” is something few of us HAVEN’T experienced. We’re taught from a young age to feel good about buying, even if we don’t have the money to pay for what we’ve bought. [Insert image of overweight housewives frothing at the mouth standing outside Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving, MasterCards in hand shouting "CHARGE!"]

In 1997, when yours truly was living in San Francisco and trying to recover from a few too many indulgences, I found myself shopping. A lot. I lived in Lower Haight, so I would walk up the hill to Shoebiz and think nothing of dropping a couple hundred dollars for a pair of Buffalos or someshit. And I got a rush off of it. A rush that felt strangely familiar…was that a disco ball overhead? Did someone just hand me a rave flyer and some glowsticks? Oh wait, no, that’s the receipt for the shoes I just bought, and a pen so I can sign my name and owe my credit card the cash. Right. Sorry.

So, putting it all together, here’s the theory: some ravers replace their dwindling ecstasy high with a consumer high. It happened to me several years ago. It’s happened to several friends since then. We’re all still paying off our credit cards.

On that note, I just bought some stuff today! I got a big paycheck from Amazon, and I haven’t been getting high lately (well, not on ecstasy, at least), and so I treated myself to some poicheses:

1. Physioball for me to sit at in front of the computer. Never again will I slouch in my chair–now I perch atop a giant red ball, bouncing as I type these words. Highly recommended, and thank you to my former trainer at Take Shape Fitness for making the suggestion.
2. Aveda Energizing Composition oil. Here’s the plan: I like my hair to smell like Aveda shampoo. But wait, I have dreadlocks–I don’t wash my hair more than once a month! What to do? Get some oil, put it in an spray bottle, and then spray liberally on hair. Voila!

So you see, even yours truly, the commentator on consumer culture, shops sometimes. Yes, I did it. I shopped!