In Which We Realize I’m Still, Totally, American

In case I had forgotten at some point that I am, actually, an American, the past few days of my life have been proof enough to remind me that I come from the land of stars and stripes. Take, Exhibit A: Vienna. Walking through Vienna, all of a sudden, I saw a Starbucks. AND I SWEAR TO YOU I HEARD ANGELS SINGING. And, don’t you dare judge me, because you have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to get a damn coffee to-go in Italy when one of your favorite things on the planet was holding a huge cup of coffee when it’s cold out. (And, if you CAN relate to that, then can I get an AMEN! about seeing a Starbucks!?)

I ordered myself a Venti Vanilla Latte, paid absolutely way too much for it and skipped along Vienna like a little kid who just got a whole bunch of Halloween candy and was totally allowed to eat it. Basically, heaven. Who cares if the coffee wasn’t good or that it doesn’t even slightly compare to Italian espresso? I CARE SO LITTLE, because that damn Venti latte warmed my hands so much, I DIDN’T EVEN NEED GLOVES. I paid €5 for warmth and to look like a total yuppie while walking around downtown Vienna. So? We all have our vices. This, clearly, is mine.

Oh, wait.

I said “vices,” didn’t I? Yeah, because my other one, is far more expensive.

It’s called, “In which Jamie Varon must go into every H&M she sees and BUY EVERYTHING.” Coats, scarves, dresses, jackets, gloves, almost everything in my suitcase is straight from European H&M. I HAVE A PROBLEM. I KNOW.

And, this problem is only going to get worse because on December 6, I move on over to London. Yes, London is my next stop. And, I know I’m going to be so freezing I am probably going to want to DIE, but I don’t even care because London is so POSH. And, I think I describe London as being posh because of the Spice Girls, which is so lame, but not even important right now.

ANYWAYS.

Yes, London. Apparently, this is where the shopping is. Forget Paris or Milan (unless you are a size two, have money to blow, and want to look like a runway model, no thanks), it’s all about London (baby!). [Side note: If you know what I am referencing with, "London, baby!" and you are a male, marry me?]

Where was I?

Oh, yes, my incurable shopping habit only to get worse by going to London and WANTING TO BUY EVERYTHING IN SIGHT SO I CAN LOOK POSH AND COOL ENOUGH TO LIVE IN LONDON. I’m succumbing to the pressures of materialism. I’m becoming MORE AMERICAN by LEAVING AMERICA.

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

I’M SO ASHAMED.

Ok, I’m being dramatic. I’ll admit that. Just, promise me you won’t judge me for basically kneeling in front of a Starbucks like it was my savior and for having a shopping addiction that is only going to get worse before it gets any better?

I don’t need YOUR judgment. I HAVE MY OWN TO DEAL WITH.