Spending Out and Sparking Joy: Why Frugality Isn't Always the Answer

The Eco Thrift Crusade

My journey to quit overshopping led me, for a while, to become really averse to spending money at all. Developing this new, thrifty mindset was what allowed me to repair my finances, build up some savings, plan some holidays (still hoping I might get to actually take some of them... Stupid COVID...) and start excavating my life from under the 24/7 shopping, Instagramming and more shopping that had dominated for the past decade or so.

However, my tendency towards obsession (not always a bad thing; I've written some secret fanfic I'm pretty proud of) tipped me a little too far into the world of frugality. For a while last year I was wearing shoes that hurt my feet, because they weren't completely worn out yet; paranoid about getting rid of anything that 'might come in handy one day', which sounds fairly logical until you realise it included wearing clothes I actively disliked and saving every single glass jar that entered our home; and keeping my hair in a style I didn't like because it was more low-maintenance. These things might have been saving a few bob here and there, but they were also making me feel pretty damn fed up.

Some of the tips I picked up on my Eco Thrift Crusade were great. Vinegar cleans everything and won't poison my child when he randomly licks stuff. Old baby vests with questionable food stains are fine for cleaning rags. I really do want to do my bit for the planet. But feeling drudgelike and glum with lank hair and ill-fitting clothes and shoes hardly made me an inspiring poster girl for the 'eco life'. I waffled between feeling smug for how "anticonsumerist" I was now, and deeply uncomfortable when bumping into an old friend in town knowing I looked, well, a bit rough.

I've always admired people who don't care much about their appearance - I like a bit of devil-may-care, and I think it's important to have more going on in your life than just thinking about your looks. But even people of my acquaintance who don't care much about clothes will buy things a) that they actually like, and b) that fit comfortably.

The Happiness Project

I felt a shock of recognition when I read Gretchen Rubin's book The Happiness Project. Talking about the idea of 'spending out', Gretchen says, "I tend to cling to things - to stuff, to ideas. There is a preppy wabi-sabi to soft, faded khakis and cotton shirts, but it's not nice to be surrounded by things that are worn out or stained or used up. [...] I wanted to stop worrying about keeping score and profit and loss. I wanted to spend out." 

Gretchen stops saving things "for another day" - stationery, creative ideas, unworn clothes - and starts making use of them. She also learns to 'indulge in a modest splurge' on things that bring her happiness (in her case, a set of embossed hardback books from a favourite author), and spend money on 'needful things', instead of her habitual underbuying: "I delay making purchases or buy as little as possible. I often feel stressed because I don't have the things I need. I'm surrounded with things that are shabby, don't work, or aren't exactly suitable." As someone prone to repairing (or bodging) with whatever I have to hand, I recognised myself so much in this. 

Ironic, for an overshopper, but that's one of the curses of a shopping problem - I have historically been more likely to buy something frivolous (six inch heels, Gothic lace veils, PVC corsets, lacy parasols, collectable dolls, soft toys) and go without practical things I actually need (Welly boots, orthopaedic insoles, a winter coat). My inner overshopper has no sense of priorities, hence that time I bought a ton of frilly underwear at a mall and then realised I couldn't afford a) food or b) a train home. In my defense I think I was about eighteen. I have been known to go without medical prescriptions and dental appointments because I can't afford them, but still buy new books and clothes. So yes, I definitely bodge repairs around the house, when really I ought to buy replacement items or pay to get things properly fixed.

Gretchen treats herself to some new shirts that she actually wants to wear, and some new pens for work. She notes in the same chapter that overbuying can easily lead to the 'hedonic adaptation' effect, where we need to spend more and more to get the same good feelings, and that more of something isn't always better, but it was interesting to me to be reminded that spending money, even on something technically frivolous or non-essential, isn't necessarily bad (probably not the six inch heels that I never wore, or frilly knicks instead of food though). Gretchen learned to use her money in ways that brought happiness and value into her life, rather than frittering it or hoarding it like Scrooge. (She also decided that cutting out one category of spending altogether - office supplies - would cut out a source of anxiety from her life, which is rather like how I ended up doing a shopping ban in the first place.)

So rather than guard every last penny at all costs, I've resolved to spend out. Sometimes this means hiring a window cleaner or paying for dental treatment (practical!). Sometimes it means a magazine subscription or natural hair care product (comparatively frivolous!). It requires more thinking about than a blanket decision not to buy anything, but I find I quite enjoy pondering what potential purchase will bring me the most joy and lasting value. 

Spark Joy

I've enjoyed Marie Kondo's famous tidying books often, although you'd never know it from the state of my house! But by far my favourite is Spark Joy. It's not just about tidying, storing or decluttering, though it touches on all of those things. Mainly, as the title suggests, it's about joy - how to decide which of the things you own bring you joy, and how to maximise the pleasure you get from them (hint: don't bury them under other stuff that you don't really like much, and actually use them). 

Now, I have tried to do the full KonMari on many occasions, and whilst I've succeeded in getting rid of vast amounts of stuff, it's never 'stuck', and I always end up back at square one. I believe this is for two reasons: firstly, because I've never tackled my overshopping, so new stuff merely replaces the old stuff, and secondly, because my joy antennae are a bit rusty, so I don't necessarily keep or let go of the right things. 

However, what Spark Joy has provided me at this stage of the game is permission to let go. After my previous obsessive decluttering, I'd been so fearful of being wasteful that I was hanging on to just about everything. Which, in a backwards way, was making me feel like I always needed more. I couldn't see how many really great clothes I had, because every day I was dredging through piles of things that were mediocre. As soon as the mediocre was cleared out of the way - which I have been doing in dribs and drabs rather than the approved KonMari method, but that's life with a toddler - I suddenly had an abundant wardrobe of nice things. By focusing on joy, I was able to clear out what I didn't want - much more gently, not another decluttering frenzy, and cutting myself a lot of slack (not wanting holey leggings filling up my drawers doesn't make me an instant minimalist!) - and savour what was left. 

It was also a bit of a newsflash to me that I actually deserve to take pleasure in the things I have around me. Just as I'd stopped doing my hair and nails out of eco guilt and rejection of 'vanity', I'd also forgotten somehow that I am allowed to want a nice house and a wardrobe of things I actually like. The panacea for overshopping isn't asceticism. I was inflicting a weird sort of penance on myself, and yeah, okay, my shopping behaviour has at times been selfish and greedy, but being a martyr didn't exactly improve the situation.

As with spending out, choosing things that spark joy involves a little thought. For example, in January I really liked a magenta faux fur messenger bag, but plus shipping and taxes, it was going to cost a whopping £95, which I just couldn't justify (I realise people spend a lot more than that on bags, but I've never been a Balenciaga or an Hermes girl, which is just as well as my budget wouldn't stretch). Although I liked the bag so it would in a sense 'bring joy', I knew I'd feel guilty for spending that much on, essentially, a novelty bag, when for half the price I could subscribe to my favourite magazine for a year and get a seasonal dose of magic, beauty and whimsy, or for £80 take a twelve-month personal development course from one of my favourite authors. The joy of the bag would be outweighed by the terrors of sticky baby hands, and feeling crappy about the spend (although I haven't yet ruled out buying the same faux fur on eBay - £30 - and knocking up my own knockoff). Whereas the magazine subscription would bring joy and value over and over.

So I have learned that buying things isn't automatically bad, and neither is getting rid of them, but I need to recognise the difference between true joy and the temporary thrill of an exciting purchase. I also need to continue becoming aware of my feelings about the things I own - it's no good forcing myself to wear things I feel horrible in, life's too short.