Transgressions of a 'Shopaholic'

At one point, Becky's father says, "Honey, if the American economy can survive despite billions of dollars in debt, so can you."

Oops.

"The timing is all wrong," says Amy Abrams, a native New Yorker and business owner who refuses to see the film. "It's glamorizing a lifestyle, and no one is living that way now."

Granted, a movie can't be reproduced to dovetail with a sudden economic collapse. But the timing alone doesn't justify or explain the shallow treatment of one woman's credit crisis. (Warning: Spoiler alert ahead.)

No consequences

Take Becky. Although she's horrified by her mounting bills and lives in fear of the debt collector who is stalking her, she doesn't seem to connect the eensy-weensy dot that she is the one with a problem.

Until Becky and her debt are outed on national TV -- the debt collector sneaks into the studio during her appearance on a talk show -- she blithely keeps up a charade of normalcy -- to her roommate, her boss, her readers, herself.

For many people with a shopping addiction, the denial can be that thick. But as I've found during my years leading the Women in Red, most shoppers also are aware of the Jekyll-and-Hyde nature of their affliction.

Instead of capturing that tug of war between vanity and shame, or the gut-twisting panic of knowing you're broke, in "Shopaholic" someone is always throwing Becky a cushion:

• Her roommate rips up her rent check (and we learn it's not the first time).

• Despite her flaky behavior at work, Becky gets sent to a cushy conference and goes dancing with the boss.

• When her parents learn about her pickle, they offer to sell their brand-new RV.

There are, in short, no consequences for Little Miss Credit Card. And if this is supposed to be an eye-opening allegory about America's materialism, the final reckoning must have gotten smushed on the cutting-room floor.

A new card waiting in the wings

One saving grace: After Becky gets her nationally televised comeuppance, she sells all her designer duds to pay off her debt. (Most of us would have made no more than $1,200 on eBay; she makes more than $16,000 at the auction she throws with the help of her Shopaholics Anonymous pals. Cute.)

So, OK, she gets herself out of debt.

But then, dear reader, then what happens? You'd think they could dispense with the fairy-tale ending. But nooooo. Women can't be self-sufficient, smart or enterprising for too long. They still, in 2009, need to be rescued by some guy with a British accent, a Prada suit and a mammoth inheritance.

Egad.

And as if the arrival of Prince Prada wasn't enough of a disservice to women, many of whom struggle against the myth that they don't have to be in charge of their money or their lives, the movie lands one final sledgehammer blow on the idea of female financial independence:

As Becky is kissing Luke in front of some high-end store, we see one greedy little eyeball turning toward the display window to ogle a pair of ankle boots.

And then she winks, as if to say, "Baby, I'll be back!"

Yeah, yeah, the movie actually ends with Becky working for Luke's new magazine and wearing a hand-me-down dress. But the more undermining message still stands: Spend and ye shall be rescued.

Let's all sit back and wait for that to happen.

Join columnist MP Dunleavey and a group of women as they seek to strip away the myths around money, liberate themselves from debt and find financial sanity. Follow the continuing quest of the Women in Red every other Wednesday.

Published Feb. 19, 2009

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