It Happened To Me: I Went Broke Saving Money At Target

A bargain isn’t a bargain when you don’t need it.

I’ve got a bullseye on my back. And my feet, and other body parts as well. 

Ever since Target moved into my NYC neighborhood, I have become a prime candidate for a 12-step program dedicated solely to the Big Box chain. 

Because not all Target stores carry clothing and my location doesn’t have a large selection, I have ventured to the more well-stocked stores that are nowhere near my home to shop until I dropped some serious cash. 

Why not just buy my wants and needs online, you may ask? I’ve done that too, but prefer the in-store experience because Target gets a lot of web purchases returned to their stores. I often find something that is either sold out on their website or no longer in stock at the smaller brick-and-mortars. 

I have also become a huge fan of the influencers who create sponsored posts on Instagram. (They’ve taken over the role of virtual big sisters who know what the new trends are before everyone else does.) Their videos consist of un-boxing (actually un-bagging) their Target finds and modeling their newfound faves in the hopes that viewers will DM them for a link to the merchandise. Each purchase earns them a commission.

Not too long ago, I purchased red corduroy pants for $28 that were a dead ringer for a $128 pair from J. Crew, spent $45 on a Coco-Chanel-inspired jacket, and found a $35 woven shoulder bag that would have cost thousands more for the designer version; I’ve even gotten compliments on it like, “I love your Bottega Venetta,” that I gleefully explained was a knockoff. (I kind of like having the vibe of someone who would actually spend that kind of money on a handbag.)

More recently, I went to a few stores looking for items I’d seen on social media but had no luck, so I ordered them online. They came in all at once in different packages. Between the shipping boxes and the boxes within those boxes, plus the bubble wrap strewn all over the place, it looked like our living room on Christmas morning. My husband, Neil, was horrified. “What did you buy?” he wanted to know. “And why?”