My mother is nothing like me. She's incredibly practical, organized to the point of scary and couldn't care less about her handbag. (I think, to my horror, she's had hers for about ten years -- and when that one wears out, she'll buy the exact same one in black! Shudder!)
Anyway, for the most part, we understand one another and there is no conflict. However, one year, I got her something for her birthday that she absolutely loved. It was a French Oil Coated tablecloth by l'ensoleillade. They're made in France and I buy them in a little boutique in Saratoga. No problem, right? My mom loves her tablecloth, everyone's happy. Until...she's worn it out. Now she wants to buy a new one and needs the brand name.
I tell her, I'll just get one for Dad's birthday (it was a joke, that my father, who is much like me, didn't care for.) But I don't want her to know that she's actually converted over to the good life and that the table cloth is going to cost her. Because then, she won't enjoy it. Trust me on this. I told her I have a couple I can send her that are too big for my current table, but that doesn't work because I'm a bright yellow/red kind of person and she wants a muted green. Sigh. Could we be any more different?
I think she already had a clue because she has this rich friend (who tends to be slightly rude) and she lifted up the tablecloth to look at the tag (how seriously tacky is that?) to tell my mom that SHE had the same brand of tablecloths. So I think my mom knew then, but ultimately, she's crossed over to the good life. And now, she'll know it for certain.
I converted Colleen Coble to an amazing handbag and coffee, too. I have that way about me: I introduce people to the good life. And...my work is done here. Converted, corrupted...same difference.