What I learned from a year of no shopping.

 13 months ago I decided to try to abstain from the fashion race and to stop buying clothing. It was an experiment, a test against the buy-to-throw-away culture we live in.

The experiment consisted of a personal ban on buying any fashion related such as clothing, foot ware and jewellery for a solid 12 months. I wanted to see what it would feel like, if I could make do with what I had and whether it would impact my self-perception.

A terrible start

I started with a spectacular fail. Already a few weeks after I started the experiment I bought a silk kimono from a road side stall while on holiday. I was enjoying the sunshine, chilling out and simply forgot that I’d stopped buying clothing. It was one of these “first world” purchases, unnecessary and self-indulgent. A “want” purchase, rather than “need”. When I returned home it hit me like a hammer. I’d failed the experiment that I’d only just started! I was guttered and regretful.

I vowed to improve and continue. I made the kimono a mental reminder of what I was trying to avoid; impulse purchases of beautiful or fashionable - but ultimately unnecessary - items. In that way, the kimono became a tool for me, a memory I used whenever I was tempted to buy something.

Cleaning out my cupboards

Once back from holiday I did a ‘Marie Kondo’ of my cupboard and got rid of 30% of clothing that I should have gotten rid of years ago. It was stuff I never liked, that didn’t fit or was old and worn. I’d read a couple of articles about this process and was pleased to indeed feel that elatedness and lightness they promised when ridding myself of unnecessary material baggage. It felt like an achievement and a promise to myself.

The articles also promised that I’d now be well-dressed every day, since I’d only kept the good stuff. Sadly, that turns out to apply only to people with more fashion cred than myself. I’ve never been remotely interested in clothing, so the 70% of clothes I still owned weren’t perfect classics that all went together like the cover of vogue. Rather they were mismatched impulse purchases from lunch breaks and airport transits. But since it was the clothes I’d wear anyway I consoled myself that I may still be strangely dressed, but at least now with a higher purpose! 

During winter I bought a new coat and a hat. It’s cold where I live and I had given my old coat away, so the new coat was a necessity that I decided to make an exception for. The hat admittedly was an indulgence. It was pink and cool and made me feel like I wasn’t just wearing old hand-me-downs. At that point I had started to feel rather frumpy and worn-looking. In desperation I’d even bought a fashion magazine for clues on how to match my old wardrobe better. After reading that, I felt even worse dressed, as well as overweight, so as part of the experiment I can conclude that fashion magazines are not part of the answer.

The obstacle is in my mind

I became increasingly aware that the hurdle was mental. It is the societal pressure to conform, fit in and be liked that drives my desire to look nice, which my mind had come to translate to new clothing. In periods I became even more focused on clothing than I’d even been back when I was a regular consumer, not least since fashion is not an interest of mine. It became a fixed thought in the back of my mind that I looked unfashionable and unappealing. It was unpleasant, but I stuck with it. Over the course of the year I just purchased a few socks, underwear and t-shirt replacements but nothing fancy, nothing in ‘this seasons color’ and no regular pieces of clothing, shoes, bags or accessories. Even as a modest consumer it saved me thousands. And saved the environment from kilos of chemicals, water abuse and Co2.  

One more year

 End of June 2020 I’d officially completed my experiment. I’d expected to want to celebrate with a binge shopping trip, but rather, it felt like that would betray the purpose. I was now on a journey in the right direction. So rather than a big shopping trip I bought just one summer dress that I genuinely needed, and did another ‘Marie Kondo’ where I culled a further 20% of my clothes. I also had a closer look at the few items of clothing in my wardrobe that actually bring me joy and found out that they share common traits: they are classical, mono-coloured, comfortable and of good quality.

For the next 12 month I’ll go on a revised experiment. I’ll go “low shopping” rather than “no shopping”.

The rules I’ve made for the next year is that

·      I’ll be allowed to buy very few items in total (hopefully less than 10)

·      I can only buy items that I plan to use 100 times

·      I will keep using items till they are worn out

·      The pieces I do buy will be vintage/used (preferably) or sustainably produced clothing made from materials and practices that are environmentally acceptable, such as GOTS certified.

·      I’ll only buy good quality, classical styles that are unaffected by fashion trends.

Most importantly, I’ll continue to work on the mental part: disengaging myself from the social pressure of conforming. As a business person I know exactly how this social pressure is created. It’s a deliberate manipulation by people who care more about making money than about the planet. I think that approach is old-school, and that capitalism is going to have to change. But right now the market dynamics are simple; businesses will produce what consumers buy. By not buying anything, I’m not incentivizing filthy methods and overproduction.

I have a baby daughter and a responsibility to do my bit to make sure the world she inherits is worth living in. One of the small things I can do is ‘low shopping’.

Anybody in?

The kimono that became a symbol of everything I shouldn’t buy