OK so the week before pay day arrives. Budgeting begins, purse strings tighten, I try with all my might to do a food shop without obsessing over my brand loyalty, and I’m out with my friends sipping diet coke instead of nursing a double gin. It’s times like this I find myself questioning whether this affects my mood. Would it make me any less of a person if I let the state of my bank account rule my frame of mind? Is it ok to feel a little down in the dumps because I don’t have the money to do what I really want to do?

Sometimes, against my better judgement, I think I am more inclined to be a bit of a grump when the bank balance is dwindling. I feel less free, somehow. Less able to make snap decisions to go out for the day. Less able to save for a summer wardrobe (it’s disturbingly looking like winter in my wardrobe, still). More inclined to turn down social invites for a night in with my laptop and a heavy weight of self-pity on my shoulders.

I went to Manchester for the day today (as a small town girl, big cities make those cartoon dollars pop out of my eyes); made the fatal error of insisting we go to Selfridge’s and fell in love with a Mulberry bag. I’m pretty sure the love was reciprocated too. It was the perfect size, so aesthetically pleasing that I wanted to pick it up and kiss it and happened to completely match the outfit I was wearing. *Let’s pause for a moment and imagine the perfect partnership that could have been created here* ANYWAY, the price tag (why did I look WWHHYYY did I look) contained more figures than a fat banker’s annual bonus. Sullen faced and hating the world, I walked away from the bag that stole my heart.

Then reality hits home..

It’s only with hindsight that I’m able to look back and squirm at how fickle and damn-right materialistic I was being. If, instead of sitting on the fancy shelves in that fancy store, that bag was sat on my shoulders, would I be a happier person? Well, *cue philosophical reasoning*, perhaps outwardly I would appear to be happier. Gleeful and proud of my latest luxury purchase, desperate to show it off at every opportunity and (regrettably) feeling ever so slightly superior about carrying something around that costs more than a family-sized trip to Disney World. But feelings are deeper than that, right? Would the bag make me a better person? Would it help me flourish and prosper and become a successful young woman? Would it help solve world peace, alleviate poverty or bring my beloved guinea pig back from the dead? These are all things that, subjectively speaking, would make me a happier person. Frankly, (sigh) a beautifully crafted piece of leather can’t do that.

I am terrible at giving into that initial feeling of love and lust when I’m shopping. When I know I have money to spare, I’ll often flitter it away whether on a new item of clothing, a pair of shoes, a DVD or some over-priced make-up. But in the grand scheme of things, if I really thought long and hard about it, these material things aren’t making me any happier than I’d be without them.

Money matters, of course it does. Money opens many doors, gives us more freedom, allows us to choose our options. It’s not just about shopping. It’s about saving it, using it to your advantage, having fun with it, planning holidays, exploring. Having more money may give us more opportunity. But does this have a direct correlation to levels of happiness felt? It may do to you or I, but to Joe Bloggs, money may offer him no more happiness than, say, a walk in the park does. Alas, that is the beauty of such a subjective matter. Happiness means something different to every one of us. And whether you’re on minimum wage or whether you’re that fat banker with a bulging wallet, you chose your own ways of obtaining it.

But take it from Jessie J- it’s not (all) about the money, money, money..