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Lunar New Year has begun, as of last Thursday. I look at my clients & students, and prod
them for goals and outlines. Not rigid, slave-driving ones, but a sketch of
what WILL be accomplished in this next 366 day cycle. Yes indeedy, we even get a
bonus day.
One little experiment, is that I am swearing off retail therapy, or at least
apparel therapy for the year. If you must ask what retail therapy is, you
obviously haven’t done it. It’s the
little mood lift one obtains from buying the new jacket, shiny gadget, sparkly
earrings. The trouble is that retail
therapy grows faint, or worse, sour, in your mouth soon after the initial
thrill. It’s not much different than the binge drinker (liquid therapy, make
mine a Grey Goose and tonic) or compulsive gambler who enjoyed some hours of “Whoo-Hoo”-but
wakes up to the mother of depression and remorse the next day.
At least shopping for a new cute dress won’t land one in the creditor’s
hitlist, into a gutter, paddy wagon, or stranger’s bed the way liquid/gambling
might…but still. After ruminating over
the families I have visited in Nicaragua and Cambodia,
I realized something had to be done about my exploding closets. I had to increase the steps I had been taking
to reduce/re-use/recycle. Sure, the past
two years I co-hosted numerous clothing-exchange parties. I sold things at
Buffalo Exchange and I donated countless bags of stuff and dollars to my favorite
charities.
This year, I decided it was time to be more mindful. I pride myself on being a bargain shopper,
but the fact is that I indulge in retail therapy excessively. Embarrassingly
so. Bad day? Let’s get a new top. Bored and stressed off my ass? Hmm. Good time
for a new dress. Unmotivated? New
swimsuit or yoga gear may do the trick. I almost never pay full retail for anything…but that cute sun dress could
have fed a family for a week. These two
sweaters are practically indistinguishable. That new suit has sat in the closet with tags on for months now that my
mood funk passed.
So, a simple experiment/vow. No new clothes shopping for me this year. At
all.
The exceptions? (yes, there are
exceptions, this isn’t some kinda religious endeavor). Shoes and undergarments
are allowed if needed because come on, one can not compromise there. If I need new running shoes that can not wait
‘til next year. I can buy, of course, a
bridesmaid dress as duty calls this year. But otherwise I am to resist the siren call of Nordstrom, Marshall’s,
even REI. I will learn to sit and
tolerate my boredom or dissatisfaction without wandering into a soothing forest
of garment rounders, whilst being lulled via Muzak.
Heck, the best part about
this is that I should wind up with a net gain of time for reading &
running; as well as and money for living & donating. I’ve read 3 novels in like the last month already. So perhaps consuming less this year will result in a better-read Helen.
My Sweetheart once joked about going “Butt-wild Nekked”. Which was doubly
hilarious because she is such a sweet, anti-GirlsGoneWild kinda woman. I like how the term brings to my mind a
certain sense of exuberance.
Who needs
clothes? Who am I without all these fashionable props? Why am I so lame and brainwashed that I feel
like a (less confident) different person on days without my cosmetics and the
right outfit. In reality the most
present and free I have felt in all my days were in actual Butt wild naked
moments (no, not like THAT ya damn perverts. Lovemaking is off the topic here. I refer to my 2 skinny dipping
expeditions in heart-stopping snowmelt accompanied only by strong, funny, and
smart womynfolk).
Pish-pah with all that. I own enough
clothing right now to keep me not-nekked for a good 5 or more years. A few days into this experiment, I am already
surprised at how frequently I am being tempted. Each Sunday I look through the paper, and I think, “Oh, cute, I should swing
my Macy’s and get one of those…” My e-mail flashes pictures of hip women in
their new spring gear. I think of
Valentine’s day and plan to go buy a new dress for date night-‘til I remember
the pact. As consumers, we truly do live
within a constant deluge.
My office spouse gave me a birthday
gift today- a yoga top and yoga stretch Capri
pants! Yay! I smile. P looks at me. “Isn’t it cheating if people give you
clothes?” I say no. So long as I don’t go around asking them to give me
clothes. Besides, who in their right
mind (besides someone who knows me as well as my office spouse and sweetheart) would
buy me clothes anyway? The only no –fail
gifts for me are either a donation to a better world, or anything that
originates from a bakery or bookstore! Besides, the best part of the gift was the warm-hearted writing within
the greeting card. (and muchissimo
gracias again to my sweetheart for that gorgeous, delicious tiramisu, sculpted
chocolate surprise! You are the bomb.)
I am not ballsy enough to join the Freegans or the Compact. But this is a baby step toward there…
The Compact:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/02/13/BAGH3H7DH71.DTL
Freeganism:
http://freegan.info/
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