Catch up

Ok, so it has been a really long time since I have posted. This does not mean that I have fallen off the wagon as far as my clothes fast is going. Here are the updates:

After hinting about some shoes I was really wanting that would solve several of my summer shoe concerns in my last post, my moms got them for me for my birthday. Cheating? You decide. Actually, I decide. Gifts were never off limits, and I had been wanting these bad boys for some time.

A purse my husband told me I had to blog about. Yes, I did buy a very cute purse, but again, I went into this experiment telling myself if I found a great purse, I'd get it. I hadn't bought a basic everyday purse for years, so I felt okay about it.

Two friends from grad school bought me an Antioch t-shirt as a thank you and I accepted. Of course, today I notice that sunscreen? sunlight? has turned part of the shirt purple. Ergh...is it a sign?

I am looking forward to December when I plan on buying a new pair of jeans, but I'm going strong so far. My husband and I are on a 6-week cross country road trip, and I am really glad that I won't be spending time or money on clothes shopping. We need the bucks for gas.

Shoe fever

Six months in and I’m holding strong in my no-buying mission. Shoes are the latest challenge. They just don’t hold up the way clothes do, and, despite many racks of shoes, I only wear about 8 pairs. And those 8 are starting to lose their luster. I can barely wear heels anymore, and my comfortable work shoes are getting old. Embarrassing old. I need to find a shoe doctor old.

I was discussing shoes at lunch the other day. A male colleague of mine asked another guy how many pairs of shoes he owned and they both had the same, automatic answers: 5 pairs: a new pair of tennis shoes, an older pair, a dark pair of sneakers, two pairs of dress shoes: black and brown. Are you kidding? I have more than 5 pairs of boots alone! At least 10 different shoes in black! Of course, what I am constantly reminded of in this journey (yes, Eat Pray Lovers, this too is a journey, only a lot less expensive) is my incurable, genetic pack-rattiness. I still have two pairs of clunky loafers from college, over [hmphrhmm] years ago, that weigh 8 pounds each. Do I wear them? No. I care about my feet now. Do I look at them fondly, longingly, almost as though they were a photograph, a remnant of my former, more funky self? Definitely. I imagine I’ll wear them again, but the reality is, I don’t. I won’t.

I’m considering doing a series of photographs or prints of clothes and shoes that I cannot let go of. I think of Frida Kahlo’s painting “My Dress Hangs There” and imagine hanging or displaying my clothes in places that are meaningful, taking a picture, and assembling the photos in a book of things I have let go of.

But then I'd have to let go of them.

I have what feels like an unnatural attachment to certain items of clothing. Even small things, like tank tops. Scarves. Is this something other people have? I have friends who say that they love purging their closets of clothes they haven’t worn in the last six months. They call it "freeing." That’s one of my least favorite things to do. I have clothes I haven’t worn in more than 6 years. But they have a hold on me still. My closet is busting at the seams, my drawers are always open and spitting up their contents. The hall closet holds coats I rarely wear. I've even invaded my husband's closet, as he so often reminds me.

So, as I near my birthday and head toward summer, there is one pair of shoes in particular that are begging for me to break my fast. Or for a loved one to come to my rescue. A gold-silver strappy sandal from Earth shoes that I tried to buy last summer before it sold out. It’s back. Proof that I don’t have to get something out of desperation that I’ll never find it again. How many outfits that has rationalized. Though the sandals sound extravagant and unpractical, they are actually very good for the feet and quite versatile. Honest.

Updating

One of my temptations has been the purse. The "need" for a little black purse or some kind of daily purse that is versatile and all that. Now that I've gone so long without buying one, it is getting to be impossible to buy one. It is something that I'm allowing myself should I find the "perfect" purse, as it has literally been years since I've gotten a new one. But now that it is just about the only thing I'm willing to get, I can't find anything. And the guilt sort of nags at me. The whole "but do you REALLY need it?"

So imagine my excitement when a dear friend who has moved out of state was recently updating her own closet according to her own standards. She is a successful vegan, and is getting rid of the old leather in her life. A worthy cause that ended up serving my own. My husband stopped by on a recent visit to see her beautiful baby boy (that's you Quinn!) and my friend gave him a fantastic little black Kate Spade purse to give to me that is just the right everyday kind of bag. It was quite nice to have something new to me that filled a little desire.

Now if only my friend would grow 8 sizes and a couple of inches, then shrink again, and decide she needs to get rid of the awesome jeans she bought that just happened to be, oh look! Perfect for me. Guess that's not really the point of this though, getting things from friends. I'm not a freegan, as another friend recently accused. I'm trying to be content with what I have and find a different outlet for all that shopping energy. It's pretty creative stuff.

Need vs. Want

So often I misuse the word need, when what I really mean is want. There's only a few things we really need in life--food, shelter, love, health. Everything else becomes a need because we let our society tell us it is.

Which is why I need new jeans. OK, want. Really bad. All my current pairs are fraying, have holes at the knee or along the cuff. I'm tired of the fit (or lack of one). So I tell myself I need new ones. But really I just want them, and I want them enough that I think about breaking my resolve for a pair, just one, to get me through these 10 (or 8, depending) months. I have so many good rationalizations. But I know that it's a slippery slope, and if I let that go, I'm more inclined to rationalize other things.

I was talking to a friend this morning and we were discussing the importance of "the right pair of jeans." She was saying that jeans are our comfort clothes, what we feel best in, and that its important to have that. This is true. It is nice to have that pair that makes you feel good about how you look, that works both casually and for going out. It's a wardrobe staple. With my current pairs showing their age, and my newest pair too skinny to wear with my favorite boots, I'm struggling...

Going Strong

It's been about three months, or one and a half from my official start date of December 1, and I'm doing well not buying shoes or clothes for myself. I got a little reprieve on Christmas when some family members gave me clothes for gifts. That was great, but also a bit daunting knowing that'll probably be it until December.

The key has definitely been not exposing myself to stores or catalogues. If I do that, I'm pretty good. But I saw an awesome pair of jeans on a friend and really wanted to indulge. My jeans are lacking right now. None of them seem to fit me all that well, and two favorites are fraying a bit.

Purses are the problem now. I can't quite decide whether I'm going to allow myself a new purse. I've been wanting (not needing, though that was what I was going to write initially) one forever, just a basic everyday one. The one I have is falling apart and just looks old. I saw a new one that I liked a lot in, yes, a catalogue, but I've given it a few days and haven't moved forward, so maybe I'll hold off a bit longer.

It is really interesting shifting my view from what I consider that I "need" versus what I "want." I don't think I'm actually saving a whole lot in this experiment, since I don't think I spend a ridiculous amount on clothes. But I am examining the nature of consumerism, and the external pressures that make me feel like I need those new jeans.

The Lure of the Edward Hopper Hat

24 days in (or two months, if I count back to late October) and I have been doing pretty well in my resolve to avoid buying clothes or shoes for a full year. The only thing that came close is the $5.99 pair of sunglasses I bought at Target cause I knew my old ones were on the way out. I wanted some that would definitely stay on my head if I go skiing over New Years. So I allowed myself that, and felt good that they weren’t technically clothes.

Until today. Today I almost faltered. It was a very interesting test of the power of desire and the ability to shift that desire by just waiting a little while, by not giving in to the urge immediately.

I went to the National Gallery in Washington D.C. with my husband and my in-laws to see the latest Edward Hopper exhibit. He’s the painter who did the famous “Nighthawks” painting, the one of the diner at night with the triangular building and the stark lights and the people all sort of lonely-looking. It’s been parodied a lot with rock n’ roll icons, very recognizable. All of his work was really interesting—landscapes and unusual angles, farmhouses and lighthouses, lonely, solitary people staring out of windows, or the artist staring in. It was great to go to an exhibit. I can’t remember the last time I was in a museum with all those people mashed about while engaging in such a private, personal activity as looking at another’s perspective on the world. It was wonderful.

We made the obligatory visit to the gift shop, and I did not expect temptation to rear its head there—what, a Nighthawks t-shirt? I think I can resist. I didn’t even have money with me, and I was fine without the Edward Hopper posters or coasters or mousepads.

But then I saw the hats.

Oh, the hats. I am not really a hat person by nature, but these were awesome. They were inspired by the period (late 1920’s-1940’s) of Hopper’s portraits, in which many of the women wear these hats that look a lot like lampshades in their most basic form. But then there are all the ways you can shape these malleable felt hats, as illustrated by the handy tag. You can turn them up in the back and have the front angle down low over your eyes. You can turn it up on one side and have it swoop across your face. You can flip it up in the front only, or flip it up on all sides sailor-like. Adorable.

The most basic ones came in three colors: camel, olive, and charcoal. There was another, a little fancier, which my husband preferred, a rich chocolate one that had some stitching and a thin ribbon around it, tied in a bow. But I didn’t like that one as much because it didn’t allow for the full range of adjustment the others did. And it was $40, compared to the $28 of the simpler ones.

He was all prepared to buy one for me. It’s the holidays, it’s a perfect excuse, why not? Only $28. He watched from afar as a stranger and I oohed and aahed over the various styles we could shape the hat into. We cooed over one another’s coats and made jokes about how we should go shopping together.

But when my husband offered, I resisted, because it felt like cheating. I would be letting someone else buy something I had specifically picked out, and that wasn’t in keeping with my experiment. This is not so much about not buying, as challenging the nature of want. What is it in me that feels so fulfilled by purchasing something, owning something new? And do I have to feed that part of myself all the time, or can I channel it into something else, some other creative energy? Can my consumerism become creative?

We walked away from the hats after my husband said, “Maybe we should just think about it for a little while.” But that felt like him making the decision for me, and I needed to resolve this desire. So I went back to them, tried one on again, looked in the mirror, saw that it was still me under that new felt, and put it back without regret. Husband came back over and I told him, “I’m done. I don’t need it.” He wasn’t convinced at first, but something clicked in me on that second appraisal, and I was able to let it go, quite easily. It was liberating.

Later tonight I sat around with my mother-in-law and the girlfriend of my husband’s brother. The conversation quickly turned to the clothes the girlfriend had bought at an outlet store. She modeled the beautiful suede Polo skirt and her new Kate Spade purse and wallet and we admired them and bonded over these objects. It was some of the most connected conversation I’ve had on this trip. My mother-in-law brought down a pair of Stuart Weisman (sp? forgive me—don’t really know the guy) heels and showed off how spiked the heels were, Girlfriend and I waxed poetic about our adoration for Anthropologie (awesome clothing store, clothes that are works of art). We talked as passionately about these things as we talked later about…well…nothing.

We connected over clothes. Because that is what is safe to connect over. Complimenting each other’s exteriors, the things we chose to spend our hard earned money on. Rather than books or movies or music or, god forbid, politics. Wouldn’t want to get into the dangerous realm of ideas…

Haunted by T-shirts

So far, my only real test in my attempt to go a year without buying any clothes or shoes (for myself, that caveat has been added) has been that one day that I allowed myself to go into REI and be tempted by Mr. Clearance Rack and his posse. And that awesome t-shirt website that has all these artist-designed cool shirts for only $10, just for the holidays and soon my favorites will be sold out and I'll never be able to get that adorable one with the three little birds.

And here is the thinking that makes it all start. That feeling that something will vanish from my grasp and my life will be less without it. Without a stupid t-shirt that I'll only wear instead of some other stupid t-shirt I already own. Ridiculous.

But they are such cute stupid t-shirts. The ones I bought for holiday gifts just arrived and the consumer me had to be shut down.

I did get that very satisfying gasp from the four women I told about my experiment last night.