The word ‘sale’ should make it to the list of top aphrodisiacs or positive adrenaline boosters. There’s something about Gucci going 50 per cent off retail price that suddenly transforms me into an excitable early morning bird who takes out the time to consume a nourishing breakfast before heading out to face life (read stores offering massive bargains) with a sunny outlook. Even a regular inflow of chocolates and caviar cannot manage to induce such a state of happy affairs.

Eva Longoria, she of the racy lingerie and sexy stilettos would agree. ‘Honoured’ to inaugurate the Harrods sale last December, the petite bombshell splurged on a pre-tour of shoes, bags and coats, and £35k later, called for two vans to whisk her precious purchases back to the hotel. Neat work, Eva!
Then there are some of us who don’t possess the madly impulsive gene that Eva flashes in abundance. Some of us are ‘list dependent’. We walk around with a trailing sheet that lists derby hats, suede boots in burgundy and camel pleated wide-legged trousers, in order of preference. Mapping out your route for the day would make for another list. Sale queues for branded stores are sometimes long; I once missed out on a desperately-needed Dior trotter while admiring the pastel-clothed mannequins in Chloe’s show window.

The ‘list’ works, as long as you make provision for occasional detours. My recent sojourn into the Monsoon Essentials set-up at Saks Fifth Avenue garnered me an eerily apt dusky pink umbrella with the slogan ‘Shower Me With Couture’ – in short, wandering about aimlessly helps.
Keep a watch handy though, you don’t want to waste too much time and miss out on Bottega Veneta’s embroidered ‘Nappa’ tote at half price. In fact, a steel and gold Bvlgari with a bunch of Cartier trinity rings is all the accessorising you need; necklaces and earrings getting stuck on gossamer blousons during hurried trials had me flinging the cursed charms deep into my bottomless hobo.

Note: Keep cash and cards in an easily accessible front pocket. I have once hurled out the entire contents of my shoulder bag in order to find those crucial dollars and in the process, broken my phone and lost a much-loved vintage scarf that was dumped in.

As for the dress code, I have been handed pearls of wisdom by Barney’s personal shoppers. Be comfortable, but chic. Looking like hag lady from hell won’t get you the undivided attention from the Fendi salesman who closely guards the metallic evening clutches, showing them only to the select and persistent few. Your best options are drawstring linens or a flimsy flared skirt with an easy strappy top – the former stays put when you have a load of dressy jackets to try on, the latter, when you’re wading through last year’s skinny jeans from Stella McCartney. Pull on your favourite Manish Arora embroidered umbrella skirt or a Namrata Joshipura trench if you’re fighting chilly climes and you will definitely attract great service. On the flipside, the numerous compliments and queries on where-to-obtain-the-exact-replica’ could sway you from the day’s intent purpose.

I find that while glittering chappals make the grade for appropriate sale scouting attire, they don’t do anything for a five feet three inch frame when craving for a lissome silhouette that the mirror will love. Wedges are the safest feet-killing choice. You die a slower death with them, thereby gaining a few more hours to traipse through goodie-strewn floors of Kuala Lumpur’s KLCC towers with your head literally held high.

Don’t stop for anything. I learnt this lesson the hard way at a Tarun Tahiliani mega-discount tamasha some months ago. A few seconds to gulp some H20 and the rack of gauzy chiffons disappeared right before my eyes. All gone! Stick to the breakfast rule; grab an iced cone on the go mid-afternoon if you must and keep that bottle of dratted water in your roomy-enough-to-fit-ten pound-baby bag for extreme emergencies – too much liquid and you will need a washroom fix which moves you beyond the acceptable distance limit from Betsey Johnson’s wood and coral bracelets at ten dollars off.

While July is the ideal period for one’s annual visit to the Meccas of the sale kingdom – London, Paris, New York; don’t forget that outlet malls are the true torchbearers of the magical ‘up to 70 per cent off’ effect – all year round! I have grabbed Ferragamo closed-toe pumps that murder my soles, Miss Sixty shorts that I wouldn’t fit into if I was half my current size and Cavalli sunglasses that fall off my nose at every attempt to put them on. The point is, they were ridiculously inexpensive and will make great items to auction off at my prolific vintage sale to be held ten years from this date. And of course, the genuine collectibles pounced upon in this general surge of delighted frenzy – a Prada wallet in plush cream, Karen Millen multicoloured block heels, a delicate Chanel shrug – well, they just balance out the situation. To be utterly fair though, the ‘list’ would have helped here. So for all those wide-eyed hunters out there, plan a strategic attack next time you hit Woodbury Common or Bicester Village.

A friend who has similar tastes can be a major asset to drag along. On my missions, we have split up to cover separate ground, each of us loading ourselves with two of every garment we zero in on; an edit meeting 15 minutes later and we have sieved out what we each want. Do carry one of Alexander McQueen’s exquisite strolleys while you’re at it. Once tennis elbow grips you, even that overdriven brain of yours won’t get you to add on a few more shopping bags around your jewelled wrist. Dump in and wheel away should be your Samsonite motto.

Segregate once back home; only pack-up for home once the shops shut you out. Nothing to match the purple pedal pushers you couldn’t resist at Topshop? Yes, you now know what to add to the list for tomorrow. And also know, in your infinite wisdom, that not only are you careening up the credit ratings list, you may simultaneously be gathering enough mileage points to make it to the Singapore Sale in December!