I ONCE KNEW a girl with saggy underpants. In college, she used to model them -- usually only in the presence of women and after a few too many trips to the bar. She'd pull a nylon waistband out from under her jeans and stretch the elastic to her collarbone like a poor man's (or woman's) camisole. It was shamefully ridiculous, but it made people laugh.

Then she'd explain how she became the owner of these big ol' bloomers. She was from a lower-middle-class family -- the kind that loses a house to the bank, pays utility bills with penny rolls, and applies for store credit cards to get free bags of M&M's -- and the only way her parents could finance the cost of a new wardrobe was to charge it on one of her father's M&M's-accompanying pieces of plastic. That typically meant dragging her impatient, moody, mall-hating dad through a brightly lit showrooms of fingerprinted mirrors, pastel mannequins with crooked wigs, and aisle displays pimping Guess jeans years after Guess jeans were cool.

Right before she left for school, her dad took her to one of these retail chains, awkwardly, to purchase "intimates." Embarrassed by the prospect of picking out undergarments with her father, she sped off to the lingerie racks, snatched up an armful of undies, and returned to her father, begging a nearby clerk to bundle her selections immediately. When she got to her dorm a week later and finally unpacked that bag, she realized she'd mistakenly grabbed rib-cage-high briefs that matched her pants size -- and they were enormous. By that time, of course, she couldn't find the sales receipt, and when she tried to exchange her droopy drawers using her father's billing statement, the customer-service clerks just smirked.

The moral of the story? (There's more than one.)

1) Keep receipts.

2) Check packages before leaving stores.

3) Girls should never purchase underwear with their fathers.

4) Money can't buy happiness, but it can get you a snug pair of panties.

Yep, shopping has a dark side. Never mind that at its core, it's consuming -- celebrating materialism, devouring the earth's resources, and indirectly contributing more trash to the planet; there's also always the chance of having to confront lengthy checkout queues, bumbling salespeople, sharp elbows, inflated prices, low funds, harsh dressing-room lighting, and absurdly bad purchases.

But shopping, or even the noncommittal act of browsing through stores, can also be uplifting. I used to work with a pretty girl with a shaggy haircut and hip sense of style who liked long lunches. One time I asked her where she disappeared to during those two-hour intervals -- I figured she was out getting loaded with the rest of the staff -- and she giggled. "If I'm feeling bad, I take a walk to Saks at the Pru, imagine I can afford things there, and douse myself in perfume."

I knew what she meant. Trolling around stores can feed one's fantasy life. It's like watching MTV, except you get to leave the couch and see real people. Passing an afternoon in the Garment District or Planet Aid is like playing dress-up with the contents of mom's old costume trunk. Trying on outfits at H&M fosters the self-delusion that you can be broke and moderately stylish. Gazing at the International Poster Gallery's Herbert Leupin object posters evokes a time when advertising was tasteful. Even a matronly shower-curtain and dish-scrubber emporium like Bed Bath & Beyond can spark pipe dreams of snoring in $80 satin sheets.

Thus, in a way, shopping can be inspiring. Objects aren't just objects -- they're tangible thoughts, physical embodiments of ideas. Nothing helps writer's block better than a trip to McIntyre & Moore, the Harvard Book Store, Brookline Booksmith, or Avenue Victor Hugo. Businesses like Smash City, Million Year Picnic, Satellite Records, Pearl Art & Craft, Newbury Comics, Jack's Joke Shop, Allston Beat, Daddy's Junky Music, Urban Outfitters, Berk's, Abodeon, the Tokyo Kid, Comicopia, Le Sportif -- they all specialize in cool conceptions. So even if you're short on cash, wandering around these places can inspire you to create, rather than simply consume.

Then again, whom am I kidding? Shopping without money is a bummer. Which brings me to a corollary for aforementioned moral number four: it sucks to be poor.

Camille Dodero can be reached at cdodero@phx.com.