Who can resist the urge to splurge?

Who can resist the urge to splurge?

On Christmas Eve I walked into an upmarket clothes shop, intent on buying a present for a friend. One rail screamed: "70% off!" from which I could almost feel a magnetic draw. Another yelled: "50% off!"

Near the front was a beautiful, black dress that previously cost £200, far more than I would spend. But there it was, hanging in front of me at a stunning £54. OK, so it was two sizes too small and I did not need another dress, but it was so lovely, and so, so reduced.

Half an hour later I emerged with a slightly mad grin on my face and a heavily discounted dress in my bag. It felt good.

So here is the thing. I know times are bad. I know there's a recession. I know I should be preparing for the worst. But I can't do it. Not when every time I pass a shop there is the siren-like lure of a discount.

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Perhaps it is because, as an adult, I have never experienced a recession, so have no idea of what is to come. The notion of the floor dropping out of the housing market, mass redundancies and a plummeting currency seems surreal. Heavily cut-price sales in mid-December seem more like a welcome treat than a sign of meltdown on the high street.

And I know I'm not alone. After all, last week Bluewater shopping centre in Kent had its busiest day in five years with more than 180,000 customers. Meanwhile, on Boxing Day, Selfridges took a record £1m in an hour; Westfield, the new mall in west London, had 3,000 people queueing to get in before 9am; and outside Harvey Nichols in Edinburgh 100 people waited for the doors to open.

We all know the sensible thing to do would be to save but it is hard to pass up a bargain. Is it that base instinct of wanting something for nothing (or very little)?

What if, come January, all the best stock is long gone? Or the prices have shot back up? Here (in my head at least) is a rare opportunity to buy higher quality goods at bargain prices - seeking out a deal is almost impossible to resist. As one colleague put it: "What difference is a £30 dress going to make if I'm made redundant?" It might, of course, when all those bargains add up to a maxed-out credit card.

But there is something so mischievous and naughty about the prospect of a shopping spree in the midst of a recession that is almost drug-like. Walking into a shop, finding a bargain and then funding it with a credit card fills me with a buzz. Discovering Westfield was like injecting a massive dose into the arm. The day ended with me sitting at a tube station, wide-eyed and filled with guilt, as I tried to squeeze everything into fewer bags in an attempt to look less ostentatious.

So for me the retailers' strategy has worked a treat. The signs in the windows and the sale stickers on the rails have manipulated me perfectly into spending more than I ought to. In terms of numbers of outfits bought, this has to be one of my worst Decembers on record.

I know I shouldn't be bowing to temptation; I know it is terrible preparation for what may be to come. But just as it is for thousands of others out there at the moment, it is like an addiction for me, and one that even a New Year resolution will not quite put to rest.

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