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Shopaholic's tale of debt costly lesson in absurdity

Published September 5, 2003 at midnight

"Who in their right mind would spend $200 on a bra? Not me."

- Karyn Bosnak

Most of us have made spontaneous purchases, accompanied by ridiculous justifications. You had to splurge on that dress, even though you have nowhere to wear it. You have 20/20 vision - but those blue frames accent your best features.

If this sounds moronic, you probably won't identify with Karyn Bosnak's story, though I'm guessing there are plenty of credit cardholders out there who will. The 30-year-old calls herself a shopaholic, an addict who let her hobby go all the way to the collection agencies - all $20,000-plus of it.

Her story begins the summer of 2000. At 27, she loathes the monotony of Chicago, where she has always lived. She finishes her fourth season as a producer at the Jenny Jones show, packs five bags and heads to the Big Apple.

Of course, being the spending fanatic she is, there are several more bags, boxes and moving trucks to come.

Unfortunately, when the movers lose her furniture (it eventually arrives weeks later), Karyn is given ammunition in the form of an American Express card. Her swank Manhattan apartment is only blocks away from a popular shopping district, and she soon finds herself in her own private paradise.

Here, she introduces readers to some of the book's key players: Bloomingdale's, Bergdorf, Bendel and Barney's - which she affectionately refers to as the four B's. She later adds herself - Bosnak - as No. 5.

At first, a pair of $260 shoes seem outrageous to our heroine. But the more Karyn shops, the more skewed her perception of "expensive" becomes. She no longer ponders the ramifications of buying a $150 Prada purse or an $1,800 couch. And with a six-figure salary as a producer for a People's Court knockoff, she doesn't feel like she's in any danger.

Karyn's impulsive shopping habits are unnerving yet entertaining, and even if you can't identify, you can laugh at the absurdity of each folly.

Her justifications are lame, at best.

"I hadn't bought a new pair of sunglasses in quite some time. In fact, almost two seasons. So one pair of sunglasses at $240 was just like getting two pairs at $120 each season. And that wasn't too bad."

Before spending $1,800 for a personal trainer, she buys workout clothing totaling $300. "It was more than I wanted to spend, but it was an investment in my health."

Other investments: $778 for lingerie and a $102 bikini wax for her new boyfriend; $318 monthly visits to the salon; and hundreds of dollars to eat at the exquisite restaurants listed in the Zagat guide.

Make no mistake: Karyn is compulsive, but she is not stupid. She compensates for her excessive spending through a beneficial discovery: She can control the balance due on her monthly statement by making purchases and returning them.

This way, the amount of the returned items is subtracted from the existing balance, thus spawning the "Buy and Return Credit Payment Management Plan." And while I wouldn't recommend this financial plan to anyone, it manages to carry Karyn over some rough spots, particularly when she loses her job, then nabs a producing gig on The Ananda Lewis Show.

Unfortunately, Karyn lives such an exorbitant lifestyle that she forgets to see the plan through. Between bounced checks for rent and groceries and being cut off for exceeding her credit limit, things start looking pretty grim. Then, American Express deals Karyn a card of climactic proportions: she owes more than $10,000 that month.

An addict must first admit she has a problem. Karyn's approach to this was as extravagant as the cause of her dilemma: She created a Web site (www.savekaryn.com) asking people to help her get out of debt by sending her money. But what distinguishes Karyn's site from other pathetic Internet pleas is her creativity and personalization. While retaining her anonymity, she posted weekly updates, anecdotes about saving money and replies to visitors' e-mails. She even started auctioning off her prized possessions through her site on eBay.

Karyn's site became well-known. People sent money in both big and small amounts, gift certificates, food and other essentials. Numerous media outlets picked up on what she was doing and e-mailed her interview requests. In a matter of weeks, publications and broadcasts across the world coddled Karyn's notoriety and crowned her the poster child of debt.

In only 20 weeks, with the help of hundreds of empathetic addicts and other sympathizers, Karyn's debt was wiped clean.

You have to give it up for Karyn for refusing to wallow in the rat-infested apartment she was forced to move into and submit to a lifetime of forever paying off outlandish debts. Or you can criticize her for exploiting capitalism's loophole. Wherever you stand, it's hard to deny that Karyn practiced survival of the fittest and won.

Save Karyn's self-deprecating humor, wit and sarcasm make itenjoyable. Her transformation - from a Sex in the City wannabe to a realistic woman who occasionally buys cheap toilet paper and dares to eat the mystery foods in the back of the refrigerator - brings a human quality to this story.

After reading this book, the only grudge I hold is against myself - for not thinking of Karyn's successful scheme myself.



Valerie Singleton is a freelance writer living in Denver.

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