The hand will be getting some extra exercise over the coming month of December as parents dip into their pockets or purses and open their wallets. ¬†But their legs might get a surprising rest.¬† That’s because Santa’s favourite workshop (read: Toys R Us) is offering customers the opportunity to shop right from their mobile devices.

 

For busy parents, this may relieve some of that pressure to prepare for the most hectic season of the year.¬† And for others, it’ll mean finding the time to finally bake that batch of gingerbread cookies they keep promising the kids.¬†

Be careful to count your pennies, though – it’s easy to forget how much one is spending when there’s no exchange at the cash register.¬† Perhaps the next holiday app will offer automatic budgetary restraints that set off alarm bells to eager fingers. ¬†But don’t expect a retail business to come up with that one any time soon.

When it’s been one of those days -¬†the kids¬†have transformed¬†the living room¬†into¬†a jungle gym,¬†battle cries¬†over lego pieces have echoed persistently through¬†the house, and that no-fail¬†pot roast tastes like¬†boiled straw – mothers are just aching to hear the words “you need a break.”¬†¬†And even if such¬†empathy¬†is not forthcoming, she will strategize to¬†set her feet marching (or stomping)¬†out her front door before the mall closes.¬† That’s right, it’s not just¬†a cliche, the shopping mall is¬†a preferred destination¬†for the “Mommy Break.”¬† It’s easy (usually only a¬†short drive away) and even if¬†her purchasing power is weaker than an argument for buying Luis Vuitton,¬†at the very least, it satiates her need for quiet¬†and indulges her¬†oft-neglected sense of vanity.¬† I, too, have frequently¬†surrendered my harried soul to the serenade of elevator music wafting through the wide corridors of a North American mall, and wistfully read the price tags of items I couldn’t afford (not without my credit card, that is.)¬† However, despite the breadth of my merchandise gazing experience,¬†I was¬†not¬†prepared¬†for the ultimate¬†shopping indulgence¬†- the mother of all Mommy Breaks – shopping in Hong Kong.

Just the prospect of escaping to a faraway land, like Asia, is fantasy enough for many a mom, and I graciously acknowledge¬†my husband (and household understudy) ¬†who assumed househusband status¬†while I vacationed in Hong Kong.¬† But¬†the chasm between¬†myself and my¬†parental duties combined with¬†infinite shopping opportunities¬†in a city that¬†exerts as much effort into selling wares as Tim Horton’s does¬†coffee, creates a shopping nirvana. ¬†Stores are everywhere:¬†luxury boutiques in malls;¬†mid-price clothing, electronics and antique shops¬†line the streets; and, Gucci knock-offs¬†are sold in¬†pedestrian-packed laneways, called markets.¬† It is¬†there, in¬†the markets – the maze of alleyways where merchandise-laden stalls¬†battle for your¬†abundant dollars, that the North American shopper is elevated from¬†traditional passive purchaser to active bargaining agent.¬†

“Hello, hello,” the Chinese merchant beckons should you stop for even the briefest of seconds to¬†gaze at their goods, “You wan copy watch, bag,¬†design jean?”¬†

The first market I visited was Stanley Market, jammed with merchants selling their wares in single garage-sized stalls and stores.  As a tourist destination among the Westerners, it carries items of higher calibre than most other Hong Kong markets.  I was on the look-out for a painting that would be reminiscent of my trip.  Before long I found an oil painting of Central district Рthe area in which I was staying Рand I knew it was the one I wanted.

“Hundred eighty dolla,” said the sales woman (the exchange rate for Canadian dollars to Hong Kong dollars is about $6.50 Cdn for $1 HKD.)¬†

“How about one hundred,” my friend – a past resident of Hong Kong – countered, as I stood meekly aside, resisting my sticker-price mentality to just push her away and yell ‘I’ll take it!’

“No.¬† No.¬† This painting by pofeshinal.¬† Not like udder store.¬† Dey by tsudent.¬† Dis one pofeshinal.”

My friend waved her hand¬†to dimiss her, advising me that we’d find something better at another place.¬† I was dubious… I mean, thirty dollars for a hand painted piece of art seemed more than reasonable (didn’t Ikea sell¬†faux painted¬†canvasses for $100 back home?)¬† However, not five minutes later we saw an identical¬†painting at another art gallery where we talked the sales woman down to $100 (HK) (she’d insisted we pay $10 to cover the cost of the tube in which to insert my canvass.)¬† Buoyed by¬†that success, I boldly¬†announced a price of $100 for a necklace at a jewellery shop a few paces down from the gallery.¬† The woman at the counter stared at me indignantly and lifted the price tag, “Hundred dolla?¬† Dis two ten!”

She grabbed a large calculator (this is one of their preferred methods for presenting their offers, no doubt, to prevent other less bargain-savvy Westerners from knowing how low their price can go) and said, “Ten pecen off.”¬†¬†I read¬†a digitized “189″ in the calculator window.¬† I declined.¬† There were more fish in the sea (or something like that), I thought.¬†¬†By the time we boarded our bus to leave, however, I’d regretted¬†that I had not just bought the darn thing – it was only $30 Canadian, after all.¬† And, how likely would I find that exact same piece of jewellery again?

Our next stop was Mong Kok Market, a much less westernized version of Stanley.¬† It was one long alleyway that crossed two main streets in downtown Hong Kong.¬† The¬†merchandise was less varied in both scope and quality than what I’d seen in Stanley, but the prices were rock-bottom (if you knew how to bargain.)¬† I’d learned that the surest way to get the price you want is to walk away when they counter your offer; this makes them worry, because the only thing they want more than a high selling price is a sale.¬† They will chase after you, pull you back into the stall and quietly acquiesce to your demands.¬†

I¬†bought a Paul Frank tote bag for $45 HKD, two Dolce & Gabbanna purses for $180 HKD each, a pair of Victoria Beckham jeans for $180 HKD (I had to¬†haggle those down from $400), and a cocktail purse for $40 HKD.¬† Did I mention they¬†specialize in knock-offs?¬† One cannot be too choosey with these prices, y’know.¬†¬†

My moment of glory¬†was when I discovered the necklace I had coveted at Stanley Market hanging in a¬†clear plastic¬†package (the chain stuffed into a slotted white piece of cardboard) among dozens of other similarly unimpressively packed jewellery sets.¬† Not surprisingly, it looked much less¬†chi-chi here than at the previous store, where it dangled prettily on silver holders amid a collection of stylish gems.¬† But, it was the same one, nonetheless.¬† It¬†was sort of like¬†discovering that beautiful chunky glass vase¬†on a shelf in Wal-mart beside a mass of plastic thermoses that you’d just purchased for double the price at Pier 1.¬† Isn’t it funny how display can inflate the price?¬† I bought the necklace and matching earrings for a mere $100 HKD (they came as a set in the cellophane pack)… ka-ching.

No¬†whining kids begging for a toy.¬† No racing against time¬†to grab what I could before rushing to pick up the children at school.¬† No guilt over spending too much on designer jeans that my husband just wouldn’t understand.¬† Just me… shopping with indulgent, unabashed, delirious freedom.¬† But, regret is a bitch, and with a no-return policy on all purchases (by a woman giddy with amazing deals), she is one pitfall I couldn’t avoid.¬† Oh well, every good thing in life has its price.