RETAIL RESTRAINT

My summer challenge is in fact a new discipline. The practice of retail restraint, to be specific. It was initiated, first and foremost, to simply see if I could.  And if I could, then I might also dispel the characterization of me by a brilliant friend who thought that I, perhaps, had a “consumption” issue.

“You buy a lot of clothes,” my highly observant friend once shared. And suggested with kindly, clinical subtlety that perhaps I had a problem. Truth be told, my compulsion – if you will – reached a fever pitch over the winter when I started volunteering at a posh charity shop-The Church Mouse-in Palm Beach.  It was a treasure trove of barely used designer dresses, art work and furniture. I was enchanted every Friday at the endless possibilities that awaited me inside the shop. And there was not one week that I left that establishment empty handed. 

I considered my friend’s warning but could not find any reason why my little habit might be seen as unattractive, especially given that the end result of my penchant for purchasing ensured a very stylish personal presentation, if I do say so myself. 

Evidence to scientifically support my fetish comes from TIME MAGAZINE’S Jamie Friedlander Serrano who wrote that there are a lot of people who also cannot resist the sheer fun of acquiring something new. 

“Going shopping used to be known as “retail therapy.” Indeed, research has shown that traditional brick-and-mortar shopping can ease sadness, at least temporarily, and give people a sense of control.”

See?

But experience has taught me that it is never unwise to consider opinions other than your own. And the thought that came to mind after my friend’s comment? 

EXCESS. 

Excess of the kind you see exhibited by the entire Kim Kardashian Clan. Or, the newly wed, Jeff Bezos, whose brand-new wife, Lauren, just narrowly missed out on purchasing a $10M Birkin bag at auction. It’s their money, of course, and I’m all for seeing them spend it. But isn’t there something just a little bit obscene, or self indulgent and maybe even wasteful about that kind of conspicuous consumption? 

My closets are quite modest compared to Lauren’s and Kim’s, but they were starting to bulge a bit after my winter of wanton wardrobe building. I even came across at least a dozen outfits still retaining their original price tags. Enough is enough, eh?

So, on my last afternoon of the season at the shop I boldly announced that I was embarking on my retail restraint program that very day. My colleagues knowingly smiled at one another – they had heard this before- but as I was removing myself from the den of temptation I was resolute. With one exception. Shoes. Who doesn’t understand that? To ensure success I knew myself well enough to provide some sort of escape valve to stave off any feeling of true suffering. I also exempted my birthday from the “fashion fast” as presents should be “de rigueur” on everyone’s birthday.

So, for many weeks now, I have not seriously ventured into any boutique. I am only so strong. Why tempt myself? And I have bought not one new dress, shirt, pair of slacks, coat, vest or anything perceived as clothes-save shoes. And, strangely, I am not minding it. I feel cleaner. Lighter. Delighted with the prospect of shopping in my own closet. 

Am I depressed?  I suddenly thought one day. 

I have read that one sign of depression is losing interest in those things that once brought you pleasure. And what a joyful buyer I have always been. Or was I just, at this very mature age, actually becoming practical? That is a sobering thought.

I consulted ALEX, my AI, who reminded me that she was not a mental health professional so could not actually diagnose psychological malaise, but she did provide perspective.

“Losing interest in things you once enjoyed, like shopping for clothes, can be a symptom of depression according to the National Institute of Mental Health. This loss of interest is sometimes called, Anhedonia ” and can be accompanied “by feelings of numbness, apathy or boredom.”

WOW.

I was not experiencing the whole enchilada of Anhedonia, but enough to find this information bothersome. Then ALEX went on. 

“Sometimes, (though) our interests naturally change over time. It’s also possible that you previously used shopping as a coping mechanism, and you’ve found healthier ways to manage difficult emotions.”

Chardonnay? 

I reviewed what was replacing my shopping sprees these days. Meet ups with many friends. Caring for Mom. Making travel plans. All good, healthy, things. And like oatmeal, with its long-lasting satiety properties, I didn’t yearn for retail snacks, especially in light of research that has shown that our habit of acquiring new things produces a joy that is really quite short-lived. So, why not go for a bigger bang through a thorough culling.

On a very personal level I have a great friend who was way ahead of the curve understanding the law of diminishing returns on “stuff”  and so announced that we should stop giving each other gifts and share experiences instead. Truth be told, I do miss the gifts. She gave excellent ones. But she was clearly onto something that could be much more rewarding..

“Minimalism can be seen as a pathway to cultivating wisdom through intentional living, mindful consumption and a focus on what really matters,” according to AI. “While some might interpret its emphasis on simplicity as a lack of sensuality, it can actually lead to a deeper and more mindful engagement with sensory experiences and the richness of life.”

TIME MAGAZINE spoke with a fellow, former avid buyer, Courtney Carver, who has authored several books on minimalism and who, like me, went on a 3-month buying strike. 

She says “that she became enamored with a simpler life when she decided not to buy anything she didn’t absolutely need.”

There was no mention of shoes, by the way,

Carver told TIME what happened after her 3 month strike:

“I had more time to focus on pursuits that brought me pleasure (like reading and cross stitching). Cross stitching? No judgement, Courtney.

 “And I felt more excited about the purchases I did make,” claimed Carver.

She felt so good after her “fashion fast” that she is encouraging everyone to give it a go.

“Consider a week-long, month long, or three month long shopping ban (where you) don’t shop for anything that’s not essential, if only to give your brain a break from having to seek the next new thing.”

AI suggests that fashion fasts or budgets, for instance, can actually help you find balance in life. And it doesn’t have to be extreme.

“Approaches like flexible restraint, which focuses on overall habits and allows for occasional indulgence without guilt, may be more effective and sustainable than rigid restriction.” 

It always gets back to the shoes.