I guess I'm manly..
I was a shopaholic once, before that was a word. My family went from middle class security to continuing problems for my father getting work (long story) through my teenage years and beyond. I got through university because back then it was free and I was admitted to it, lived at home, worked to pay for books, etc.
So - when I got my first full time job later, I went wild, or sort of wild. There was a then great shopping area by the university that I'd only window-shopped in before that job, that on my way to the bus stop to go to my after school job. Not a sob story, just that shopping was rare. I sewed back then a lot of my own clothes, usually during the summer.
For something like three years after I got that job, I went to boutiques, followed fashions, blah blah. I remember that one day, in a shop I can visualize but not remember the name of, that I figured out that my fun was picking out the item and bringing it almost swinging to the counter. Walking out the door was the start of the downhill - that's good, I can't wait to get home. Then, it's ok. I think I need a (-----).
I stopped, both because I saw myself doing all that, and also because an arty pal (degrees in chemistry and art) introduced me to thrift shops. Never looked back. Well, sort of - I did read Vogue and all those and later followed some fashion blogs just to see what was going on - but I'm pretty separate from all that, as you could tell with a glimpse on any given day at what the hell