Confessions of a Shopaholic

[shopanon]

The Problem With Shopping - The Environment (Part 2)

I stumbled upon a bit of inspiration this week. At the 2020 Oscars, the lively actress-activist Jane Fonda made a strong statement on fashion and its impact on the environment when she rewore a dress that she’d first donned for the Cannes Film Festival in 2014. She paired the dress with a red coat that she’s declared would be the last article of clothing she’ll ever buy. Why? Because she recognizes the harmful effects of fashion on climate and she wants to do something about it, starting with her own consumer habits. She’s walking her talk.

Ms. Fonda’s sentiments echo and find resonance in my own brain, even if I’m still struggling to fully manifest them in my own life: “We don’t really need to keep shopping. We shouldn’t look to shopping for our identity.” Especially when doing so makes such a negative and lasting impact on our environment.

Over the past few months, I’ve been thinking a lot about the impact of my own shopping habits on the environment. So it was amazing to see some of that impact actually quantified in Hasan Minaj’s Patriot Act episode on “The Ugly Truth of Fast Fashion.” In the episode, Minaj breaks down the staggering water, emissions, and waste impact of clothes purchased at fast fashion retailers such as Zara and H&M. I don’t shop at H&M, but I do occasionally shop at Zara, and I’m sure many of the statistics shared also apply to clothing purchased at my favorite non-fast fashion retailers, which include Anthropologie and Madewell. After all, non-fast fashion clothes don’t simply grow on trees in our own backyards, and they don’t evaporate into thin air once we’re done rotating them through our wardrobe.

Here are some of the statistics that stuck out to me:

In 1980, the average American bought 12 new articles of clothing per year; now it's 68 new pieces/year. And of those 68 items, half of them are worn 3x or less. (I’m not sure how I measure up on this stat - I don’t think I buy that much, but we’re often terrible estimators of our actual behavior. You can trust I’ll be keeping track this year though - so far, my count is at 13. I do think I’m pretty good at wearing things more than 3 times. My Stylebook app will eventually help me keep track of that too.)

Progress

I am so pleased to report the great closet inventory of 2020 has begun! 18 items cataloged, only somewhere around 150+ or so to go....(I hop

Viscose is made up of (on average) 33% ancient or threatened forests. 70% of the wood harvested for viscose ends up dumped after processing. Yikes! 😱

In 2015, the greenhouse gases from textile production were more than the emissions of all flights and maritime shipping combined.

The average American throws away more than 80 lbs of clothes each year.

And donating clothes doesn’t seem to be a much better alternative. In June 2012, Slate reported that one Salvation Army in New York alone generates more than 18 tons of unwanted waste every three days. The clothes that aren’t trashed directly by charities are often sold by the ton to buyers in developing countries like South Africa or Kenya, where most of them end up in landfills anyway.

The cycle of fashion production, distribution, acquisition, and disposition is far from benign. Knowing this makes me want to be so much more mindful of the clothing I choose to invest in. As an almost 34-year-old, I don’t think it’s realistic for me to adopt Jane Fonda’s commitment to never buy another article of clothing in my lifetime. But I’d at least like to minimize and optimize what I do purchase. Can I buy clothing that is more sustainable so that it’s creation is less impactful on the environment? Can I buy clothing that is higher quality so that it lasts longer, perhaps even for decades? My mom has many pieces in her closet that date back as far as the 1980s and still look good. After all, it seems if fashion does recycle one thing, it’s the trends of yesteryear that always seem to come back around eventually.

Sometimes I get discouraged though that even if I’ve awoken to the reality of fashion’s environmental harm and change my habits, I’m only one of billions of people on this planet. Will the changes I make even move the needle if no one else makes the same changes? We need massive, population-level behavior change if we hope to make a meaningful difference. But at the end of the day, I can only control what I do and trust in the good in that. I know there are others doing the same, even if it’s not all, or even many of us yet. And that’s really okay. We have to start somewhere, and like Jane Fonda, I’m starting with myself.

[shopanon]

Breaking the Shopping Cycle: Step 1

Unsubscribe, unsubscribe, unsubscribe. Remove yourself from all retail-related email lists, stop following fashion influencers and brands with shoppable links on Instagram, and even cancel the catalogs you receive in the mail.

Step 1 in Suzanne Zuckerman’s casual guide to breaking the shopping cycle is a mercifully simple step: just unsubscribe from all versions of direct retail marketing. Simple yes, but not necessarily easy when you’re a problematic shopper.

Rewind to December, right after Black Friday, when I decided it was time to take control of my shopping. The first action I took was to start unsubscribing from the various retail email lists for which I’d signed up over the years.

Retail email lists are rather insidious things - they’re always free to join and typically reward you with a little perk for doing so. I mean, why wouldn’t I share my email address to get free shipping or a 10-15% discount on my first order? But the retailer wins in the long run. With my signup, they’ve reserved a space for themselves in my inbox, sometimes on a multiple-times-per-week basis, to show off their newest arrivals or their latest can’t-miss sale. Even when I don’t think I need or want anything new, they land in my inbox to make the case for just how wrong I am. It’s easy to not want for things when you don’t even know they exist for the wanting; but once something wantable enters your consciousness, denying its wantability becomes a game of will power, something that most of us humans just aren’t that good at.

So back in December, I knew I needed to exit the carousel of imposed wantability. I no longer wanted to be subject to the retailer’s determination of what I should want or to be further manipulated by their sales games. I wanted to be the driver of my wants - if and when I decided I wanted or needed something new, I’d be the one to go out and seek it. So whenever a retailer’s marketing email arrived in my inbox, I’d open it, scroll directly to the bottom of the email, find the small and sometimes notably buried “Unsubscribe” link, and click it! And with each Unsubscribe click, I’d feel as if I’d regained just a smidgen of freedom.

The unsubscribe-a-thon proceed smoothly until I attempted to unsubscribe from Anthropologie. What a clever retailer Anthropologie is and GIRL, do they know their customer! Anthropologie does not have a one-click unsubscribe process. When I clicked “Unsubscribe” on their marketing email, I landed on a page of subscription options, which is not so uncommon. What broke my stride though was their clear message that if I unsubscribed from all marketing emails, I’d also forfeit the birthday discount Anthro offers to its Perks members. 🤯 That’s a 20% discount on a total purchase, y’all! One doesn’t just throw away additional opportunities to save 20% on everything (ahem, as long as it’s full price) at Anthro. So I didn’t. I didn’t complete the unsubscribe process for Anthropologie emails. And two months later, here I am, having gone through a full blown shopping relapse triggered in part by Anthropologie promotions that were delivered directly to my inbox.

Simple, but not easy. That’s the truth of so many healthy habits, whether eating, exercising, sleeping, shopping, or anything else we want to do well. The “what” of healthy habits is simple but the “how” of developing them is often anything but easy.

But today! Today. I will take one simple step to push myself toward a healthier shopping habit. Anthropologie unsubscribe page, I’m coming back for another visit. And this time, I’ll be in charge, thankyouverymuch.

[shopanon]

Another Setback

Perhaps you’re not surprised. I can’t say I really am either. I’m a bit embarrassed and ashamed to boot. I suppose I knew this “recovery” wouldn’t be easy and would have its ups and downs. But it doesn’t make the downs any less frustrating. For a few weeks, I wanted for nothing and enjoyed the false comfort that I was doing well on this journey to shopping independence. Alas, I faltered at the first big test, coming to realize I’ve actually made no progress whatsoever. The few weeks of no shopping were simply an artifact of the absence of any of my usual triggers. 

Then a perfect storm converged: an upcoming work trip in a locale with a peculiar winter weather pattern, a fleeting daydream of what I could wear there - if only I had a few more pieces in my wardrobe, a 20% off your entire purchase sale at Anthropologie. And the illusion of shopping control rapidly vanished as the slumbering compulsive consumer in me reawakened.

I had brief moments of clarity. I recognized I was being triggered and attempted to shop in my closet first. I even identified some possible options based on what I already have but I didn’t go so far as to try them on to see if they would accomplish what I desired. Because I already knew - I just KNEW - what I had to have. So I searched for it online, found it, and bought it with minimal delay. And despite the shame and embarrassment I feel about it, I also find myself justifying my actions. 

It’s crystal clear I have a lot of hard work to do on myself. I need to get to the root cause of why I behave this way. PureWow promoted an article this past week that I found to be particularly relevant: “What to Do If ‘Buying Stuff’ Is Your Love Language.” I don’t actually consider buying stuff to be my love language - I don’t expect or desire gifts from others and I don’t show affection by giving gifts either. Nor do I fit any of the common character types the article identifies - I’m not suffering from anxiety, depression, or an eating disorder and never have; I don’t have a family history of mood or substance use disorders; I don’t have a personal history of emotional trauma. The only characteristic that does fit is I am privileged, which seems almost a prerequisite for this issue. Nevertheless, it’s clear I use shopping as a compensation or comfort mechanism of some sort. And my task is to determine what that is. 

The “what to do about it” section of the article nails it as far as I’m concerned. I’m going to continue my closet catalog process and also commit to working my way through the suggested steps to break the shopping cycle. 

It’s time for the hard work to begin. No more of this cutesy amateur bull pucky (as my dad would put it). 

[shopanon]

The Problem With Shopping - The Environment (Part 1)

Remember this? My “Circles of Impact.” I use these circles as a framework to understand the indirect impacts of my unhealthy shopping habits. Last time we encountered these circles, we dove into the personal circle, taking a close look at the time I’ve unwisely invested into shopping. Today, I want to zoom out to consider the impact of shopping in the community circle. Community can mean my friend groups, my neighborhood, my city, or even a larger scale community, from the state I live in to the global community. And today’s focus is indeed a concern of the global community - because ultimately, my decision to purchase a clothing item doesn’t affect just me. Every purchase I make also has some amount of impact on the global environment. 

Now I know my power to wield a credit card and buy clothes is no rival to the power of Mother Nature. But I also know my purchasing habits are not beneficial, let alone even neutral when it comes to cumulative impact on the environment. And I’m not the only one shopping! So whatever environmental impact my shopping has is only amplified exponentially when we consider all the people simultaneously and successively scratching their own shopping itch. 

It wasn’t even clothing purchases that got me started thinking about the impact of my purchasing decisions on the environment. It was multiple Amazon purchases in the course of a day or two of now-who-knows-what household goods. It struck me that due to the ease and “freeness” (thanks, Amazon Prime) of accumulating stuff through Amazon, I could almost effortlessly overlook the waste involved in multiple purchases. But each purchase would be delivered in its own cardboard box, protected in its own pillow of bubble wrap, after having been driven across and around town, and perhaps after being driven and flown across the country before that. What impact does all that have on the environment? What lesser impact could I have made if I’d just thought more critically and made a shopping list before checking out the first time so that instead of making multiple purchases, I managed to buy everything we needed in one purchase; or better yet - realized maybe we didn’t need all or any of that stuff in the first place? 

Of course, this phenomenon is not peculiar to Amazon. Everything I purchase online is mired in this packaging and distribution muck. And it’s also not peculiar to the times when I complete a poorly planned online shopping trip only to realize I didn’t purchase everything I needed in the first go. One time I made a single online transaction at Target.com, purchasing five pairs of undies. Can someone please tell me WHYYYYY one pair of those undies arrived individually, packed in its very own luxuriously spacious medium-sized box, even despite the fact I’d checked the box at checkout that said I’d rather have my multiple items arrive in one box even if that meant they’d arrive later than if I allowed them to show up in multiple shipments??? 🤦🏾‍♀️#exasperation

Even aside from these purchasing and shipping mishaps that I can only hope are aberrations, every online purchase is accompanied by packaging, shipping, and distribution that are net-negative for the health of our environment. The impact is further multiplied anytime one of those items is subsequently returned. 

I haven’t even scratched the surface on the environmental impact of shopping but I recognize this post is already growing dangerously long. So think of this as a mere teaser, a tempting appetizer, of the discussion yet to come. We’ve got a lot of unpacking to do (weak pun fully intended)...

[shopanon]

Progress

I am so pleased to report the great closet inventory of 2020 has begun! 18 items cataloged, only somewhere around 150+ or so to go....(I hope). 

The process is a bit tedious, for sure, but also enjoyable in a way. Put some good music on, set up your little photo “studio”, and before you know it you’re spending some quality afternoon time with yourself. And you get bonus feel-goods because you’re making important progress toward a better version of yourself - a version with complete mastery of her personal closet and total control of her shopping habits (power pose!). 

I decided to use an app to catalog my closet after briefly considering Pinterest for the job. Pinterest, after all, is how I’ve created my closet and packing capsules in the past. But having used it for those purposes, I knew it wasn’t up to the job I had in mind. What I needed was a tool for ultimate closet command à la Clueless. After a quick bit of app store browsing, I found what I was looking for: Stylebook. Why Stylebook? I’ll tell you:

It seems to have all the features I want and some I hadn’t even considered - multiple ways to import items, easy background removal, a variety of categorization tools, simple outfit creation, ability to make packing capsules and checklists, wear statistics, etc. 

It cost me a whopping one-time $3.99. I rarely pay for apps (have I ever before this?), but this seemed like a low low price to pay for an app that will surely save me thousands of dollars over time by helping me to better exercise my existing closet and shop smarter going forward. The one-time payment was also wildly more palatable than the recurring monthly or annual payments that most of the competition wanted. 

It has the best rating of all the closet apps I saw and it’s been around for a decade. I like that kind of staying power! When I’m investing in this project for long-term personal improvement, I want the app I’m using to be up for a long-term relationship too. 

It has an excellent companion website (Stylebookapp.com) with helpful articles, FAQs, video tutorials, user stories, and a variety of other support tools.

The only major drawback I see for Stylebook so far is that it’s only available for iOS (iPhones and iPads). My personal tech is all from the Apple universe so this isn’t a problem for me, but I feel for folks who need to catalog their closet and can’t get in on this awesome app because they’re iOS-less. 

It’s going to be at least a few weeks until I’ve completed my closet inventory, but I’m thrilled that I’ve gotten started and I can’t wait to finally live the final product (as final as a product that will continue to live and grow and change right along with me can be anyway). I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes. 

In the meantime, I like this progress thing. It feels GOOD!

[shopanon]

Relapse

You GUUUUYYYYYSSSSS.... 😫

I bought clothes today. And I haven’t even begun my closet catalog yet. 😭

I won’t call this a step backward because that would imply I’d already made any progress whatsoever at building a muscle to control my shopping habits. Yet I have no evidence at all to suggest I’ve done any such thing. Today was arguably my first challenge in exercising some shopping self-control and I think it’s not overly harsh to say I demonstrated the self-control of an impish 2 year-old.

What happened? Well, I’ll tell you, as I sit here in my newly acquired leopard print pajama set from Costco. (No judgment, please.) 😑

So there I was at Costco, alone. Not alone in the grand sense - it was Costco at 11:30am on a Saturday, arguably one of the riskiest times to venture to Costco. And sure enough, I found myself dodging and weaving amongst hordes of double-wide shopping carts navigated by other humans of varying levels of self-awareness. But I was alone in the sense that I was unaccompanied by my husband - the presence, if not the voice, of financial rationality.

I had a short list of groceries and kitchen goods to acquire. It should have been a relatively quick trip in and out, Costco crowds notwithstanding. But then. THEN. I spotted a pile of cozy jogger pants. On sale. And the beast was unleashed.

Let’s take a step back for a moment. Because this wasn’t quite the instance of spontaneous impulse shopping it appears to be at first blush. No, the seeds of this binge were planted weeks ago and the sprouts had been steadfastly pushing upward until bursting forth in full glory today.

I primarily work from home, a home that is notoriously frigid (in temperature, not temperament). I bundle up as best I can and whip up a warm beverage as needed to keep the chill at bay. I also venture out several days a week to yoga and Pilates classes at a gym in my neighborhood. All this to say I happily wear a lot of cozy lounge clothes throughout the week. But my cozy lounge wardrobe is oddly devoid of casual long-sleeve shirts and sweatshirts. And this is something that has been bothering me for weeks.

I don’t recall making a decision at any particular point that I should go out and acquire additional cozy clothes to bolster my daily working wardrobe. In fact, I think I’d decided that I should just grin and bear my circumstances until I’d figured out how to “responsibly” fill any wardrobe gaps. I do recall casually browsing Target’s women’s lounge clothes online after opening a marketing email. I smugly patted myself on the back when I closed that browser tab without feeling even tempted to purchase anything (that I hadn’t seen anything worth being tempted by did not diminish my self-satisfaction).

But the ill-fated stars aligned when I walked past the clothing spread in Costco today. The subconscious awareness that I was lacking some cozy clothes, the appearance of cozy clothes literally at my fingertips, and the unopposed delight at the great prices Costco offers (“ooh, such a great price!”). And that was it. A pair of lounge pants, a thick and oh-so-soft long sleeve tee, a cute sweatshirt, a 2-pack of lounge bras, and the leopard print pajama set that adorns my body even as I type this sentence. My relapse.

I feel a little bad about it because it represents the absolute absence of any forward progress on my goal of better controlling my shopping habits. But I’m also really cozy right now and I find solace in knowing I have several more options in which to be cozy going forward. 😬 I know I should feel worse about this. The defendant shows absolutely no remorse, your Honor!

How do I balance controlling my shopping with shopping for things I actually need? And how do I determine “what I actually need”? I suppose this is why I intended to buy no new clothing until I’d completed my closet catalog, which is supposed to help show me what I do and don’t need.

Welp. Time to get back on the wagon. Wish me luck. No. Wish me...steely determination and a tight wallet.

[shopanon]

Am I Being a Subterfuger?

Okay, you caught me. AGAIN. Subterfuger isn’t a “real” word. I added the ‘r’ to the end of subterfuge to create the word I needed - a word to describe someone who is engaged in an act of subterfuge. Because I’m concerned that’s what I may be doing.

Subterfuge (noun): 1. Deceit used in order to achieve one’s goal 2. Deception by artifice or stratagem in order to conceal, escape, or evade

What is my goal? To control my shopping habit. At least that’s my rational self’s goal. My id’s goal is to BUY ALL THE THINGS MY HEART DESIRES.

I have yet to embark upon my closet catalog project - that’s a task for this weekend and/or next and then some. But already I’m thinking about the “rational” shopping choices that will be necessitated by that project.

For instance, I was looking at my denim collection this week. With pairs of jeans numbering in the low double digits, I think it’s fair to call it a “collection.” What I realized as I perused my denim options is that I have several similar pairs - two pairs of light wash, straightish leg, ripped knee jeans with slightly different destroyed hem variations; a bunch of pairs in almost the exact same medium wash albeit in a variety of styles (bootleg, cropped bootleg, straight, skinny). What I didn’t have was a comfortable pair I’d actually want to put on for a day of working from home or running errands. Or a smart dark wash pair that I could put on with a blazer or nice top for a night out or a work engagement. I’ve accumulated a bunch of the same styles of jeans that are not versatile enough for my life! Grrrr. Much as some people always fall for a person “type” that won’t ever be a good mate for them, it appears as though I have a denim “type” that isn’t serving my best interests.

So here’s what I’m thinking: instead of relying on my jeans “type” to guide any future denim purchases, I should strategically outline what a truly functional collection of denim looks like and curate those pieces accordingly. Yes, I too am subtly rolling my eyes at the notion of a “truly functional collection of denim”. But I still think I’m on to something. If I predetermine all the denim pieces I “need” to have a well-rounded denim collection, and then acquire all those pieces, I should always have what I need and I shouldn’t need to procure any additional denim. Right?

BUT. But. Is this functional denim collection idea a smart one? Or is it my sneaky brain trying to justify future purchases before I’ve even done the hardest work to domesticate my wild shopping habits? Could it be both?

I’ve committed to making no new apparel purchases until I’ve fully cataloged my closet. But will my cataloging process reveal gaps worth filling? And would it be right or wrong to fill any such gaps?

I think I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m fretting about what I will do when a still future project reveals particular potential results, and also about what my possible response to those results says about me. I should take a step back and start this process where any process should start - at the beginning. I’ll worry about what to do about the results of my closet catalog once I’ve actually done the catalog and thoughtfully reviewed it.

Until then, give me a break, sneaky brain.

[shopanon]

The Problem With Shopping - Time

Shopping doesn’t have to be problematic. Whaaaat? Most people don’t have a problem with shopping. According to various internet sources, somewhere between 5-8% of people are compulsive shoppers or shopping addicts, and men and women are just about equally as likely to be affected. While 5-8% might net out to a objectively large number of people, it’s a relatively small proportion of the population - just 1 in 20 to 1 in about 13.

I haven’t yet measured myself up to the criteria for shopping addiction, which was apparently removed from the psychiatrists’ bible of mental health diagnoses (the DSM) in 2013 for lack of research. Rather, I’ve labeled myself a shopaholic because I’ve recognized that I don’t feel good about my shopping behavior, I don’t have proper control over it, and I can no longer handle this situation with kid gloves if I want to change it. It’s time to call it for what it is.

But the diagnostic criteria are not what I want to get into in this post. Instead, I want to use today’s post to start unpacking some of the collateral damage of an uncontrolled shopping habit. Why? Because I’m typically a rather rational and value-driven being, and I think taking a hard look at the indirect or unintended impact of a nasty shopping habit may help me break the compulsion cycle that often leads up to a purchase.

What does the Shopping Compulsion Cycle look like?

I see something I like.

I visualize how that something will look on me, how I’ll feel wearing it, how I will style it, the places and situations in which I’ll wear it, and how others will perceive me as I wear it.

I obsess over the something I like and all the visualizations I’ve built around it.

I obtain the something I like and feel TRIUMPH! 🙌

This cycle has both direct impacts - the acquisition of the item itself and the costs of obtaining it (item cost + tax +/- shipping) - and indirect impacts. It would be easy to just measure my shopping behavior by its direct impacts on my closet and my bank account, but stopping the assessment there fails to account for the full lifecycle of a shopping act. I want to start dissecting the indirect impacts of my shopping from the innermost circle of impact - the personal circle.

The most insidious personal indirect impact of my uncontrolled shopping habit is the consumption of my TIME.

Let’s look at steps 2 and 3 of the Shopping Compulsion Cycle: between visualizing and obsessing over the something I like, I may spend HOURS searching for the item online, scouring the internet for a coupon or sale on the item, turning over every internet stone for a satisfying alternative if it’s a really expensive item, and then sometimes continuing to monitor after the purchase to ensure I didn’t buy prematurely and miss out on a better deal on the item. It’d be one thing if someone was paying me to do such thorough and detailed shopping sleuthing, but NO ONE IS! I’m spending my own precious time sniffing out every nook and cranny of the shopping rabbit hole to satisfy the burning desire set ablaze by my habitual visualizing and obsessing. Time I could be spending working on something more productive, constructive, fulfilling, expanding, etc.

The potential time suck doesn’t stop there. The Shopping Compulsion Cycle isn’t the happily ever after story it wants you to think it is. Like any fairy tale, the story doesn’t just stop after its written conclusion. The triumph of step 4 of the Cycle isn’t always everlasting. Once acquired, the item may fit poorly or otherwise not meet the expectations created during the visualization phase of the cycle. (One thing I’m actually really good about when it comes to shopping is not purchasing or keeping something that I don’t absolutely love without qualifications. If I have to tug at it, constantly adjust it, only wear it with a belt, etc. then it’s not for me and it’s going back.)

When reality throws cold water on my triumph, I often enjoy a commensurate wash of warm relief and satisfaction. Why? Because I get to return the item and recoup most if not all of my direct costs while also perversely reassuring myself that see? I do have some control. Of course, what I won’t get back is the indirect time cost I’ve already invested OR the time (and often fuel or public transpo) cost I will invest to return the item. The time spent returning a shopping haul can again add up to hours in some cases.

How much time have I spent visualizing, obsessing over, searching, monitoring, and returning clothing items over the years? I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know. What I do know for certain is that I’ve spent entirely too much time engaging in these activities and I’d prefer to use my time more productively going forward. Whether that’s time spent working on myself, my business, or my relationships, the ROI is sure to be exponentially better compared to time spent in the shopping lifecycle.

[shopanon]

Ghost of Resolutions Past

So what happened to my “one apparel item per month” resolution of 2018? I actually did quite well with it for several months. Until...Cabo. Which means I did “quite well” with it for precisely 4 months, if that. Cue silent scoffing.

What is Cabo? It’s a lovely, if touristy, Mexican town at the southern tip of Baja. More importantly, what does Cabo have to do with me falling off the controlled shopping wagon? Well...Cabo is a representation of one of my most tenacious shopping triggers: an event or vacation. Vineyard wedding? I need something new. I need something new. Business conference? I need something new. European vacation? I need many things new. Etc.

Somehow, I’ve developed (and regularly exercise) a belief that events provide justification for leaving all rational shopping and financial behavior behind. Somehow, when an event comes along, I develop the delusion that I simply don’t have anything to wear in my closet (when the truth is more likely that I actually have many things to wear). And then, I give myself permission to find and purchase something new. Because, hey - I need something to wear to this event and incredibly, I have nothing to wear in my closet. Major side-eye there. 😒

So. I’m instituting a new rule. As an event approaches, I must go shopping - really, intensively, purposefully, shopping - in my closet first. I must consider all reasonable permutations of clothing items for the event. If, and only if, NO combination feels respectable am I allowed to browse options outside of my closet. Same goes for vacation capsuling.

To facilitate this new rule, I intend to photo catalog my entire closet (within reason - I’m not cataloging every sock, bra, and undie). I want to be able to easily view the entirety of clothing collection so I can’t “forget” what I already have. It’s a big job, but I believe the organization task will go a long way in helping me stick to my new rule. Going forward, when new items do make it into my closet, they will be cataloged upon entry.

I’m feeling good about this new rule.

Trigger: Events/Vacations | Defusion Rule: Shop in my closet first.

[shopanon]

Hi, again. Remember me?

How long has it been? (Clears throat self-consciously) Just a couple years heh heh. 😅 Ok. You caught me. Or rather, I caught me. Whatever it was that I started here on the dawn of 2018 was clearly left unfinished. Hm... That feels too generous. Can you say something was “left unfinished” when it was barely started and never revisited over the course of 2 years? 

Nevertheless, here we are, on the eve of 2020, and I’ve made it back to this thing I started almost exactly 2 years ago. And funny enough (or maybe sadly enough, more accurately), little has changed from what I wrote those 700-some days ago. I’m still a shopaholic. No better, no worse. Well...maybe worse if I’m being honest. Not because I shop or spend more than I did in 2017, but because our financial situation was a little different in 2019 compared to what it had been in the preceding 2 years. 

At the end of January 2019, I transitioned from a well-paid position at a startup to an unpaid role in my family’s business. Of course I intended to dramatically reduce my shopping to match our dramatically reduced discretionary budget. But my compulsive shopping habits won out and I’ve been saved only by fortuitously-timed cash windfalls here and there and by some shameful shuffling of money from my personal savings accounts. Yikes. #nobueno 

Clearly, something has to change. If we’re being specific, I have to change. Which is why I’m back here, 2 years after I started, with no personal progress to show for the time I’ve been away. I’m desperately ready to hold myself accountable. I just know that my own mere willpower isn’t enough to get the job done. I’ve proven that more than once. So I’ll be putting this space to use to help hold me accountable. With a new decade right around the corner, there’s no better time to commit to this change - to finally kick my shopping addiction for good (let’s just call it for what it is, right?). Let’s get started.

[shopanon]

Hello world.

I have a problem. Admitting it is the first step, right? 

Well allow me to spell it all out. I s-h-o-p shop. A lot. Like...probably not more than a lot of other people. And not so much that I’ve put myself or my household in any debt or blown any budgets (pats self on the back). I rarely spend more than my monthly discretionary, and when I do I can easily cover the overspend with a little help from my personal savings. There I go already - justifying my bad behavior. But I shop enough to feel guilty about it. Which is the first clue I’m doing something wrong.

Clues I’m doing something wrong:

1. I often feel guilty about the amount of money I spend shopping.

2. I occasionally feel absolutely compelled to buy stuff and no matter how or how much I try to convince myself I don’t need what I want, the angst doesn’t resolve until the purchase is complete. 

3. I frequently try to hide the shopping bags or shipping boxes carrying my new treasures from my husband. He usually sees them anyway and he would never make me feel bad about my shopping, but he’s quite frugal himself - a trait of his which throws my own spendthrift nature into sharp relief. 

These are not the characteristics of an adult woman in control of her shopping habits. So as humans with first world problems (hey, eye roller! problems are problems and we all have to handle our struggle) are wont to do at this time of year - I’ve resolved to set a goal for self-improvement. Go ‘head, self. 

Here’s the goal: I will buy no more than 1 new apparel/footwear/accessory item per month. 

Important considerations here include:

- I’ve chosen to limit this challenge to clothing/shoes/accessories because that is where I looooooove to spend my money. I see very little value to be gained in restricting my spend on personal items like hair products or makeup because I buy these sorts of things only when I absolutely have to. 

- I briefly (I’ll be honest - “briefly” is generous) considered a cold turkey approach in which I would buy no new items for the year, but that just seemed far too aggressive and a setup for failure and disappointment. I’m not a masochist - I just want to instill some self-discipline and regain control of habits that often leave me feeling out of control. 

That’s it - simple, easy peasy, no sweat says the woman who committed a shameful New Year’s Eve 12th hour online shopping spree in anticipation of her impending resolution. The 1-item-per-month challenge is live. No take backsies.