What Was I Thinking?

What is it about travelling that causes us to take leave of our financial and aesthetic senses and purchase objects that we would never dream of buying in our home town? Are we rendered senseless by the alien environment, the bargain price or the simple desire for a memento of our trip?
Whatever the cause, when we return reality bites. If we are lucky we take one look at our purchase when unpacking, cringe with embarrassment and consign it to the top shelf where it will never again see the light of day. If we are unlucky we put our purchase on display for family and friends, only to be the object of quizzical looks at best or derisory laughter at worst.
My first hideous travel purchase was made on only my second trip out of my home state of Western Australia. During an intervarsity tour I went to Sydney and chanced upon an alternative clothing shop where I bought of all things, a djellaba, a full length Morroccan robe with a pointed hood. Mine was in fetching brown and white stripes.
Why I thought a Moroccan robe would be a useful reminder of a trip to Sydney I have no idea. Why I thought a djellaba would be an item of apparel much admired in the Perth of the early seventies I also have no idea. My only excuse is that this was a time when all things faintly oriental were the sign of ultimate cool, or so I thought.
Looking more like a temporally misplaced monk or a confused cross-dresser than a representative of early seventies ultimate cool, I wore the djellaba to university. Once. The astonished looks, raised eyebrows, cat calls and wolf whistles put paid to my naïve illusions. I never wore it again except once – to a fancy dress party.