This is the very same story… so predictable that although i-type i could barely control the yawn: lady splits with lasting spouse, will get her locks done, hooks up with unsuitable bloke during the rebound and goes on a significant shopping binge. The latter (in accordance with new study) is actually apparently likely to take place from inside the luteal period of the girl (hunt out today, gentlemen!) period. Or since Mail will have it, the “spendthrift period of the month”, in fact it is about T minus 10 and counting.

Researching a bunch of stray receipts using my very own recent luteal window has a tendency to back-up these studies – it seems that we binged quite bonkersly on extension prospects and rawl plugs in B&Q and turned into completely insensible in the vicinity of Sainsburys’ fresh spaghetti… but demonstrably the next purchase of an unsuitable mate can occur any old time associated with month, God willing.

However, whenever I separate with someone i actually do all of the above with nearly metronomic consistency: rush into rips and grab the chocolate – tick; book double-whammy colour ‘n’ cut hair appointment with Susan and Joel at John Frieda – tick; feel like the proverbial million lira – tick; day excellent gf and take in a lot of wine – tick; stumble across Mr incorrect – tick; assuage consequent feelings of incipient decrepitude and total worthlessness/celebrate condition as omnipotent goddess at top of sexual whatever (remove as appropriate) by inserting it towards economic naysayers and going to Selfridges/Hamleys/debtors’ jail (you don’t need to erase).

At the same time, in case you are
Madonna
, that half-head of highlights will end up a “goodness-doesn’t-she-look-well!” major facial overhaul, the improper hook-up may include installing a 22-year-old male product also known as Hayzoos using one of one’s extra flooring, plus the purchasing journey might feature maneuvering to Africa by private jet to grab another attractive orphan to choose that lovely one you’ve currently got, but who is out of the blue looking a bit 2007…

Could it be only me or is Madonna out of the blue – and also for the first-time in her life – appearing entirely out-of-step besides because of the times, but her own instances? Madge has not really accomplished foreseeable, and in most cases in an extremely good – or at least enjoyable – means, but whatever provides occurred to the girl in the past season strikes me personally as completely foreseeable, in essence a high-octane (dare one actually whisper it?) menopausal mid-life situation.

Madonna’s marital description was actually a kind of “exactly how to not” crash-course for youngsters, effortlessly a “No Mum, kindly tell me you’re not heading out clothed like that…” heads-up with this new variety of twentysomethings determined in a Elle magazine study; you understand, the ones who haven’t any goal of sacrificing their particular personal contentment regarding the altar of profession success, and who probably instead die than get old like Madge.

This lot of enviably sensible-sounding women apparently still want the career, the partner, the children and (this being Elle) apparently also the item regarding the period, nevertheless the difference between my rather deluded (but typically just exhausted) Attempting-To-Have-It-All-But-Really-Just-Cocking-It-All-Up-As-We-Go-Along generation together with one below is they are happy sufficient to be happy with having a few of all of it, in place of all the readily available Alls on offer. Immediately after which, having sampled existence’s dirty mezze, if every little thing out of the blue looks like heading tits up they’ll most likely choose mental security over glass ceiling-busting, ball-breaking, finger-clicking, stiletto-snapping lifetime of stellar economic flexibility. Cuddles v Cash? Hmm, presuming we can not ever before have both for more than perhaps a couple of months at one time, this may be a recessionistas’ biggest-ever fashion situation.

But these ladies additionally say that turning 30 is actually a thought that “fills these with dread”. Which is sad, is not it? I don’t recall feeling dreadful at my 30th, which was a dateless drunken supper in ny in the middle of glorious homosexual guys, therefore clearly I was obtaining period of living. And although i could quite realise why may possibly not be everybody, or undoubtedly anybody, else’s concept of a life, on balance I’d still much rather have mine than Madonna’s.

kathryn.flett@observer.co.uk