The stack of unread, dust-gathering fashion books for a coffee table that doesn't exist. The "investment" handbag that could have paid for three holidays. The uncomfortable pair of stilettos that cripple every time an attempt is made at squeezing them on. Or the luxury travel bag that sits, slumped, waiting to be used for its proper function.
Things that you have but you don't need but have just so you can say that you have them or be seen in them or with them and make weird excuses for needing them like "it's an investment piece" or "I can pass them down to my children" and feel a sense of completion and wholeness and achievement upon purchasing them only to find that that the "new car smell" only lasts for those few glorious moments in which that item can truly be called "new".
And then what?