In Praise of Borrowing

When I was in my early teens, sharing clothes was pretty normal. It was exciting when my best friend Topaz got a bag of clothes handed down from her older, trendy neighbour, because I knew she'd give me what she didn't want and probably let me borrow the rest if I pleaded enough. My mum and I used to borrow each other's clothes too. Sometimes we even gave them back.

Nowadays, it's not so common to borrow a mate's dress to wear to a party. But for me, on my shopping ban, having a community of friends and relatives I could call on to help out was heartwarming and uplifting, not to mention it saved me a pretty penny or two.

When our electric whisk spluttered and died halfway through Dai making our son's first birthday cake, I called my friend Rose - she lived five minutes away, was a fellow mum so likely to be awake at such a silly time on a Sunday morning, and given her perfect house and propensity for holding coffee mornings, I felt sure she had a set of beaters we could borrow. And she came up trumps, saving us from a two-hour wait for the shops to open so we could have the cake ready in time for the party. (And she even said we could keep the beaters! What a woman.)

My friend Topaz lent me a pair of smart shoes for an evening out, and we now have an agreement whereby we share the shoes - mostly they live with me, unless called upon by Topaz for an occasion, thus saving us both from needing to buy any more nude wedding-guest shoes for quite some time.

When lockdown started, I asked Alice, a hardcore movie buff, if she could lend me some family-friendly DVDs to get me and the Spud through those long afternoons. She dropped off a stack of DVDs on her way to work - along with her Disney+ password.

At first I felt awkward and a bit weird asking for stuff, until I realised that it opened a door for people to ask me for things in return. This year I have lent and borrowed items from irons and plungers to books and hairdressing scissors, and therefore we have all saved a) money and b) resources, because rather than having one of everything each, we are sharing what we have.

I'm pleased to say as well that, as well as sharing, my friends and I do a lot of swapping. Maternity wear, baby clothes and toys have done the rounds from mum to mum in our group, saving us each a small fortune. And when we have a clear out (or just an item of clothing we're sick of looking at), we have developed the habit of rehoming the clothes with a friend rather than plonking them straight into the charity shop. 

Sometimes this has come in extremely helpful - just before my planned clothing swap in January 2020, my friend Ana was living in a camper van, which was stolen from a supermarket car park with all her possessions inside. Under my stairs at the time was a huge stash of clothes - spare items from all I had been given by Topaz, Bel and Alice, plus bags of things that had been given to me for the swap party. After making sure no one minded, I was able to go through it all and sort out an emergency stop-gap wardrobe for Ana. 

I've noted before that the generosity of friends had helped me out of a tight spot during my ban, and I really feel now that being able to help each other out - and ask for help (and nick each other's old clothes) - has brought us closer, and created a feeling of community. With the added bonus of being kinder to the environment. Happy days! It's not exactly ground-breaking, but I was so out of the habit of asking for what I needed (when I could just buy it) that people's willingness to share came as a lovely surprise.

My Skin is Clear, My Crops Are Thriving: Weapons Against Overshopping

Now that I'm actually, finally, after two years (as of last week; I started my original shopping ban on May 14th 2019) getting a handle on my shopping habit, it seems only fair to share those things that help. What works for me personally is that I have built these ideas into my life as habits, and over time they have worn away the sharp poky edges of my desperate wants and desires, so I don't feel that nagging urge to buy, buy, buy in the back of my brain, like an itchy label. 

This is similar to my tips and tricks post of yesteryear, but I feel like I wrote that when I was a level one nonshopper, white-knuckling through each day and still slipping up every other week. Now I have levelled up, and although I still have a LONG way to go before I achieve the monk-like aura of nonconsumerism that I dream of, I no longer feel like I'm an irritating email away from slipping off the spending cliff all the time. Simply put, I've learned better ways of dealing with at least some of the underlying unmet needs - a brief selection: insecurity and lack of self-esteem, need for approval, self-expression, need to be recognised as an amazing limited edition snowflake with excellent taste in music, desire for a sense of belonging - which were fuelling my overshopping habit.

Some of those upgraded coping mechanisms are as follows:

1. Nature

My biggest weapon against overshopping is spending time outdoors. As the Spud has gotten older, we've increased the amount of time we spend outside from a begrudging half hour walk with the pram to as much as six hours walking around and playing at the park, and a minimum of an hour, rain or shine. In lockdown we took a daily walk around our local nature reserve and spent time tending our herbs and vegetables in the garden.

I don't always feel like dragging myself outside, but the Spud is insistent, and it makes me feel better about plonking him in front of Tractor Ted while I take a breather from time to time. And once I get out there, even if it's grey, mizzling and blowing a gale, after half an hour or so I generally morph into Annoying Nature Lady, getting excited about fluffy moss and interesting lichen. I even asked for a birdwatching guidebook for my last birthday (who am I?). 

One thing I know is that the more time I spend outdoors - preferably in nature, but a trek to the post office will do in a pinch - the calmer and more content I feel. I usually leave my phone at home too, which frustrates some of my relatives to no end but does me the world of good. It was initially a wrench to go out gadgetless, but in the year or so I've been going phoneless nothing dire has happened and everyone has largely gotten used to the fact I'll get back to them when I'm ready. 

For best results, as my two-year-old has taught me, you need to actually interact with the nature - squelch in the mud, paddle in the river, listen to the birdsong. Mooching about with your eyes on Facebook and your headphones in won't actually do you any good. Also, don't forget to bring snacks. I have learned to always take along a peanut butter sandwich as we're always out longer than I expect!

This has evolved into a newfound love of the outdoors, and is probably the most I've spent time outside since I was a child myself. I've got tan lines on my feet, my complexion is about as good as it's ever been (except for those three weeks after giving birth when I had the clear, plump, glowing skin of a baby angel), and I feel better in myself, physically and mentally. We've also developed an interest in foraging, and can be found in the hedgerows harvesting apples, blackberries, elderflower and sweet chestnuts throughout the summer and autumn. 

I realise not everyone has the ability to access nature as we are lucky enough to do; fresh air, natural light, a view of the sunset and a bit of birdsong go a long way. I think the reason this helps is that it reminds me I'm one tiny part of a huge and intricate web - it really puts my worries about clothes and make-up and whatever into perspective. It also reminds me how incredible everything is. You just don't get that sense of awe and wonder in TK Maxx. 

2. Creative living

Inspired by books such as Timeless Simplicity, Radical Homemakers and Big Magic, I eventually realised that creativity isn't just about being An Artist, Capital-A, or A Writer, Capital-W, but is a way of living. It's a way of living that in particular is directly antithetical to constant, demanding consumption, as the rigours and stimulation of overshopping and excessive screen time seem to wither imagination - and happily, vice versa.

Living a creative life will mean something different to every person, but it requires time, care and attention, like a garden (it could be gardening). It could be home cooking, growing veg, painting, acting, figure skating, quilting, dance, playing the trombone, zine making, fashion design, keeping a beautiful home, soapmaking... All the unnecessary but fulfilling ways that humans have made ordinary life into something beautiful and satisfying. 

I know a person who does creative things all the time but describes herself as "not creative". Yet this lady creates beautiful outfits and colourful make-up looks every day, writes poems, and once presented me with a stunning hand-painted glass bowl. She also raised children, which takes A LOT of creativity. We have developed some strange ideas about what creativity actually is, and there are probably a lot of people shutting themselves off from various forms of self-expression because someone told them they weren't artistic, or talented, or 'being realistic', or were wasting time. 

I recently read a blog post about everyday creativity which really struck a chord for me and also expresses similar thoughts to the books I've mentioned above. Druid and author Nimue Brown says, "I’ve been glad to see memes doing the rounds pointing out that singing, dancing, making art and so forth used to just be things people did. In having turned that into professions, and in having industrialised our lives, we’ve lost a lot of that. Obviously I’m in favour of there being space for creative professionals, but I feel very strongly that creativity should be for everyone, all the time.

"We’ve traded our freedom to create for convenience."

It doesn't have to be complicated and you don't have to try to make a living from it. Over the last couple of years I have tried my hand at knitting, crochet, cooking, baking, singing (purely for pleasure, as I am tuneless), jive dancing, playing guitar and pennywhistle, and making my own house cleaning and beauty products. I also want to pick my fiction writing and drawing back up - two things I let drop when I realised I wasn't going to make my fortune from them - start a veg patch and take a pottery class. I want to fill my life with the richness of doing, even if I'm not very good at everything I turn my hand to, rather than spending my days passively consuming what other people have made.

3. Gratitude

I hate admitting to being the sort of person who writes gratitude lists, but the books I was reading - too many to ignore - kept recommending the practice and eventually I had to give it a go. It stands to reason that appreciating all that we have, even the smallest of things and the most ephemeral of moments, will stop us fixating on what we don't have. However I found writing a structured list really annoying, so when I write my journal each evening I just take care to note down a couple of things that were good about my day, from an interesting sky to a nice cup of tea, my toddler's reaction to a fart or a hilarious Amazon review (current fave: "this book reads like a tumble in the moss at low gravity").

4. Savouring

I did eventually realise that my frantic brand of decluttering had cleared my physical space but done nothing for my state of mind. It was time to make a serious effort to slow down and stop rushing from one task to another. I had been spurred on by the high I get from clearing stuff out, to the extent that I was often up at night, racking my brains to see what I might be able to get rid of next (I suspect that this is not terribly healthy). 

So once I'd purged the low-hanging fruit (because there really is no point keeping CDs you don't want to listen to), I decided to put the brakes on and enjoy what I had left, rather than keep forcing myself to find reasons to get rid of more. This turned out to be a brilliant idea. From putting one of my remaining CDs on in the morning to digging out my old vinyl and asking my dad to repair my record player, to making the effort to actually use one of the lipsticks I'd decided to keep, the acts themselves were fun and uplifting, and engaging with my possessions instead of just having them hanging around waiting to eventually be decluttered increased their value to me. It also made me slow right down and savour what I was doing. Appreciating - and using - what you have is key to not continually wanting more. 

5. Authenticity

My word for this year! A simple way to feel better in your own skin is to be true to yourself. I didn't find it as easy as it sounds, but through baby steps - learning to say 'no', speaking my mind rather than hiding my feelings, letting go of clothes I didn't really feel comfortable wearing - I found that striving to be more authentic did wonders for my self-esteem.

6. Randomness

I did, however, have to learn to strike a balance between authenticity and openness. For example, I was recently given a pair of wellies as a gift from a much-loved family member. However, they were leopard print, which I dislike. Whilst a focus on curating my perfect wardrobe, which I had considered part of 'being authentic', led me to worry about the gift and think about asking for an exchange, I eventually realised that even though these wellies weren't my 'dream wellies', they were good quality, they fit beautifully, and were chosen by someone who cares about me a lot. And who obviously thinks I'm more glamorous than I actually am, which is quite complimentary. I started to feel quite fond of the wellies, looking at them in this light, and in the end I was happy to wear them and pleased that I hadn't returned them. In this case, I was perhaps striving for an over-controlled idea of perfection, instead of authenticity, and being open to a little randomness, a little imperfection, made me happier and more appreciative.

Likewise, as I have mentioned previously, a free library book from a random selection can be more of a delight than you might find on Amazon and its careful algorithm, simply because it's a bit different and new and unexpected. Choosing not to over-curate and remembering to leave space open for surprises has brought me great happiness, and allowed me to 'make do' without feeling in the least bit deprived.

What Would You Do Differently If You Loved Yourself?

For the first time in... Okay, possibly ever, I have less than 120 items in my wardrobe. That's not counting coats, shoes or bags. By some people's standards, this is an awful lot. I am certainly very privileged, to have so much. And by others' standards, this is hardly anything at all.

To me, it feels about right. Enough for variety, to be creative in how I put things together, but not enough to overflow my storage and become unmanageable. I'm doing the little trick of turning the hanger around after I wear an item, so that I can double-check that everything I've kept is pulling its weight.

This is a massive improvement on my wardrobe situation this time last year. However, I have identified two issues that I need to take in hand.

1. I'm not being very kind to myself

I often talk about wanting to be able to be creative with my wardrobe, but I'm not actually doing that. 

Eliminating the clothes I didn't like but was keeping - and wearing - to avoid being wasteful was a good first step; now I need to tackle the other end of the equation and start making the effort to put myself together in a way that feels good to me. Not the current situation where I scrape my hair back into a frumpy low ponytail, throw on the nearest clean-smelling jeans and tee, and go, only to soldier through the day trying to ignore the fact that I feel crap.

To Buy or Not To Buy talks about self-kindness and self-care - not necessarily the fun kind like taking bubble baths, but making those appointments you keep putting off, keeping your living space clean and tidy, giving yourself time, space and tools for creativity and play, and (in my case) using the correct toothpaste for my sensitive teeth even though it's not the cheapest, drinking water - not just coffee - and changing my outfit if I don't like it instead of forcing myself to wear it anyway (because I'm an eco-conscious mum and therefore must not care about my appearance? Or something equally nonsensical).

I've fairly recently started to be able to wear jewellery again - without fear of the Spud ripping my ears off or breaking my necklaces - and it's made such a difference to how good I feel when I make the effort. And it's lovely to rediscover all my favourite pieces. But more importantly it's proof of how the littlest effort can have a huge effect on how I feel.

Taking half an hour in the mornings to do my hair and make-up isn't going to make me a bad mum. (Although the two-year-old is currently wearing blush and gold eyeshadow because he wanted to be involved. He chose the colours himself.) I have always enjoyed expressing myself through clothes and style - when it's because I want to, not because I feel like I have to - and I hope that I have the experience now to not let shopping for new things become the aim, but to be creative and thoughtful with what I have.

It also wouldn't hurt to take the odd bubble bath (something I've let slip since Dai's been working longer hours) and to take a bit more time to do things like shave my legs or paint my nails - things I have avoided doing, as a kind of reaction to my previous ultra-high-maintenance existence, but would actually quite like to do (I'm also looking forward to being able to re-book my cancelled treatment at the Lush spa once things are back to some kind of post-COVID normal). No one's handing out prizes for Martyr of the Month, and life's too short not to at least try to enjoy being in your own skin.

Which leads me to:

2. I have become a fearful dresser

Before I deleted Instagram, every now and again someone I vaguely knew from my old blog would pop up to tell me they liked what I wore better when I was goth. I used to tell them in no uncertain terms that their opinion on the way I dress was less than relevant. 

However, this year I realised with dawning horror that I don't really dress for me any more, either, and I've given the opinions of strangers far too much relevance - even control.

This is partly to do with where I live - a small, conservative southern town. As a goth I used to get a lot of attention, both positive (little old ladies wanting to touch my poofy blue deathhawk, being photographed by art students) and negative (spitting, throwing things, insults). When I moved on from that style, it was a relief to feel more like a private person and to have a bit of anonymity. 

Unfortunately, this feeling of anonymity eventually became a bit of a rut I was stuck in, helped along by a lack of confidence, comparing myself negatively to every woman I saw, and a weird feeling after reading too many fashion books, blogs and articles that there was a secret fashion police who might be summoned if I dared to wear the 'wrong' thing. (An annoyingly precocious child in a playground did once threaten to "call the fashion police" on me. I was wearing New Rock boots, ripped fishnets, and a black corset and frilly skirt, both trimmed in hot pink lace. I was on my way to a doctor's appointment; that was my version of casual.)

The items I purchased in Glastonbury reminded me that I didn't always dress to be invisible. Whilst I think my days of corsets-as-casual-wear are probably done, if I'd lived in Glasto for the last decade - or Brighton, or London - the way I dress now would probably be quite different. I love the clothes that I have, but I'm aware I often talk myself out of buying anything too 'out there'. 

I really want to channel that less self-conscious, more creative version of me into future purchases (which will be CAREFULLY chosen to work with my existing wardrobe and SLOWLY acquired according to space constraints and budget. And prevented from ever again being the be-all and end-all - I once wore fishnet tights, a faux fur coat and a full face of make-up to go to the beach, and I won't be returning to being that anxious person, unable to let go and take part in things, like a big decorative doll). In the meantime, I'm really enjoying taking a fresh look at my wardrobe, and putting together outfits that actually make me feel good. 

Gala Darling says a brilliant thing in her book Radical Self-Love, which I'll have to paraphrase from memory because I lent it to a friend (two years ago, hun, just saying): "What would you do differently if you loved yourself?" Asking this question has changed my life, from getting out of bad relationships to getting off the sofa to drink some water and go outside. Next, it's going to help me embrace who I am inside and stop telling myself I can't wear this or that because it's too fanciful, too daring, too bright, too dark, too masculine, too feminine, too weird, too dramatic, too basic, too noticeable. Because I do love myself, and I don't need to be invisible any more.

However, A Caveat

Once I'd been making more effort with my wardrobe, hair and make-up for a few days, I realised why I'd downgraded these things so dramatically on my priority list in the first place. On day one, I spent almost all day browsing shopping sites, daydreaming about what I would buy next. On day two, I'd noticed the drift back to shopping so I put my tablet away and went out for walks with the Spud, but I wasn't really present or focused - I was trying not to mess my hair up and planning future outfits in my head.

By day three I was cross with myself. I'm not sure why I find it so hard to get this particular balance right, but I could understand why I'd forced myself to stop caring about my looks - to make room for other things. I think this is my ideal next step - I like to try to dress in a creative way, so I need to make sure I'm actually reflecting that in the way I live my life. Doing before dressing, so to speak - I must make time for writing, doodling, knitting, trying new recipes, long walks and dancing. I also must not discount comfort in favour of style - I love my New Rock boots, but they're not great for playing with the Spud outside as they're heavy and sometimes rub a bit. So I need to make sure I dress for what I'm doing, which sometimes means an anorak and wellies whether my 'personal style' likes that or not.

So I had never intended to be unkind to myself. I'd shoved my fashion obsession out of my head to make room for the rest of my life. Now, my goal (because I love myself) is to dress in a way that I'm happy with WITHOUT OBSESSING. Just get dressed in the morning, smile at the end result in the mirror... and go do stuff. Step one: plan some exciting stuff to do.

Just a little note to say, I am away this fortnight, leaving early tomorrow, so I may be a little late to respond to comments on this post! Many thanks for your understanding. Normal service will resume upon my return.