Rewilding in 2022: Final Progress Report

This year, it's fair to say, didn't quite go as I expected. Between February and August, Dai, the Spud and I seemed to constantly shuttle between different illnesses and viral infections. The chronic migraines that blighted my childhood came roaring back and made my life a misery until I was able to start on several medications and a course of acupuncture. In November I was diagnosed with a gastro-oesophagal condition that was intensely painful but which is now managed with medication, and I was also diagnosed with depression and anxiety, which I think I had been masking with my excessive shopping behaviours instead of actually dealing with. I have since begun therapy and will be on a short residential programme next year.

Our little family spent an awful lot of time indoors, either taking care of each other or simply sheltering from the record-breaking sweltering heat during the summer. For a while, it felt as though my one remaining nod to something approaching wildness was the organic veg box I was getting with a half-price discount code, which at least encouraged me to cook from scratch more - a habit I'd neglected - and try out new vegetarian and plant-based recipes. The feral housewife rearing her head perhaps.

One thing I didn't expect this year was that I became much more committed to my self-care. I'm not sure what caused this, I think maybe I was tired of feeling like my own last priority, or perhaps my new collection of medical diagnoses, but I started gradually adding habits like dry body brushing, taking more time choosing my outfits, eating more plants, getting routines in place to keep my house clean and tidy, and daily yoga and then I felt like it kind of snowballed. I started getting out of bed earlier and feeling excited and motivated each day. I found I had more energy, so I started trying new forms of movement like Buti yoga, kayaking, paddleboarding and running. I became amazed and proud of what my body could do, and excited by all the things I could feel it wanted to do as I got stronger. My confidence increased dramatically and I found I was better able to deal with life admin tasks - and life in general. 

As time wore on I found myself developing in different ways. When I stopped dressing daily in Goth style some years ago, someone I used to work with posted an image on my Facebook page that read, "You used to be a wild thing - don't let them tame you," which at the time unsettled me, but in hindsight makes me laugh. I am much wilder now, in my 'basic' dress, than I have been since childhood. As a younger person I was too devoted to my image to do half the things I do now. I used to go to the beach in full make-up, fishnet tights, boots, a faux fur coat and hair extensions - you wouldn't have got me on a paddleboard for all the tea in China. This year I've been more willing to try things, more physically active, and even a bit braver than I have known myself to be before.

Yet I realised that, for three and a half years now, I've written, thought, moodboarded, researched and analysed almost constantly about clothes, shopping and style. This thing that I have been trying to escape from is consuming me. The least interesting thing about me has come to dominate my creative life. 

Speaking of which, what about my style challenges? My 'Mrs Baggins' Style Challenge, and my mission to wear every single piece of clothing in my wardrobe, co-existed very well and after a time became the same thing, interwoven with my no-buy challenge like a triple-strand braid.

When things really started to get interesting was when I took a look back at my childhood for some of the posts I was working on. I started to remember how I had most enjoyed dressing, what sorts of combinations made me feel good. I began layering waistcoats over dresses over jeans, mismatching my earrings, tying scarves around my waist over long skirts. I thought about the adage, said by (I believe) Iris Apfel, 'when you don't dress like everyone else, you don't have to think like everyone else'. I started to receive compliments on my outfits, but the best thing about it was that I felt good, I was having fun, I felt like myself.

It was weird how continuing to wear my own clothes felt like a slightly radical and subversive act at times. I found myself somewhat flabbergasted at the existence of the word 'rewearing'. When I was young, we didn't need a word to express the concept of using the clothes we had bought and owned. How our perceptions and culture around clothing have changed.

I also found that, although the cool style of a friend could still occasionally send me off on a couple of hours' browsing through Vinted and Depop, the distinctions between different clothing styles and labels - such as 'alternative' - came to seem less important to me. At some point mid-browse I would find myself getting bored, as defining myself (or anyone else) by clothing came to seem less and less relevant. Having learned to focus more on my other interests, I naturally found myself returning, over and over, to books, music, cooking, art and nature, and finding less importance in what I did or didn't have in my wardrobe.

Could I still see myself wanting to buy more things in the future? Yeeees, but not in the same manner that I have previously. I have been amazed by how much I can do with what I already have. Interestingly, fast fashion, even second-hand fast fashion, holds less appeal than it ever has. I no longer want to continue accumulating. 'My wardrobe' no longer feels like a semi-abstract concept encompassing all the things that I have yet to buy. Instead, I see a future of creating endless combinations with my existing clothes, visible mending, making and customising my own pieces, and the occasional vintage or charity shop find, spiced up from time to time with commissions from slow fashion artisans or purchases from small businesses on my travels. A simple shift, a change of mindset, and yet I feel so much more grounded and happier in myself.

That said, by early December, I found I did have to make a few purchases - I had almost run out of socks, my everyday bras were no longer fit for purpose, my slippers had split at the seams, and several of my wardrobe staples (favourite T-shirts and jeans) were falling apart. It was a pain to have everything disintegrate at once, but I also felt triumphant - it was probably the first time I had needed new clothing since being post-partum. Replacing my worn-out socks at Christmas was a staple of my nineties childhood and I felt oddly proud to return to it - even if it had taken three and a half years to wear through my existing collection!

I was told that firewalking would change my life, and by the end of August, a month after putting my bare feet on hot coals, I had come to believe that. There was an energy that I could feel rising in me, a new sense of my own power. I was starting to get a feel for the enchanted life I had been yearning for - I didn't, and don't, know exactly how to get there, but I knew how to start, and the seeds are beginning to unfurl. I began by spending less and less time online (it's possible that you'll be seeing less of me on this blog in the new year, but we'll see how that shakes out). I took up my knitting needles and painstaking hand-sewing projects, accompanied by an innate understanding that every stitch, every purchase not made, every mass-produced object not consumed, took me another tiny step in the right direction.

I began clutching at creativity, as if every thought and urge I had suppressed in the all-consuming maelstrom of new-motherhood suddenly came surging to the forefront. Reading poetry. Brewing my own tea from herbs. Making natural dyes. Weaving. Sketching. Playing pennywhistle by firelight. Devouring folktales and stories of women losing and finding themselves in the natural world. Travel plans and festival tickets. Something is beginning to take shape around me, and it's a little bit wonderful and exhilarating and electrifying-frightening all at once. 

This is the rewilding I was looking for. It is slow-coming, creeping up little by little through art and story and the play of starlight on frost, but I can see at last a time approaching - inexorably - when it is me and I am it. I can't imagine ever going back to a life of Primark hauls and spending every waking moment on Instagram. I don't need those crutches any more. 

Inspirational reads this season:

Make, Thrift, Mend by Katrina Rodabaugh

Confessions of a Recovering Environmentalist by Paul Kingsnorth

Wintering by Katherine May

Wild by Jay Griffiths

Sustainable Badass by Gittemarie Johansen

You Are Not A Before Picture by Alex Light

Tatterdemalion by Sylvia V. Linsteadt and Rima Staines

A Still Life by Josie George

Other inspiration:

The Hagitude podcast

Workshops and newsletters from Walk the Spiral Path

 I devoured the entire archives of The Hermitage with joy and wonder

I'm going to be taking some time off over Christmas and New Year, and next year I'm considering not sticking to such a regular schedule of posts, but we'll see how that goes. For now, blessings of the season to all of you, and best wishes for 2023.

Into the Cauldron

During November, I scheduled myself a week of Cauldron Time, after taking the workshop Into the Cauldron with Moss of Spiral Path. Moss's concept of Cauldron Time is about taking time to rest and look deeply inwards during the dark half of the year. For me this involved taking space away from social media and screens, reading, journaling, meditating, yoga, divination, foraging, spending time in nature, cooking nourishing meals, and taking naps.

I'm a carer and parent, so I couldn't take a week off as would have been ideal, but I did try to maintain an atmosphere of calm and restfulness, and I also thought hard before agreeing to any social plans and only accepted invitations if I really wanted to. I found all this much harder than it probably sounds! Turns out, I am not brilliant at resting.

However, once I made the effort, I found it very effective. Taking time away from screens and spending lots of time outside under the grey November skies almost made it feel as though I had slipped slightly sideways out of ordinary time and into a liminal space. Suddenly I had loads of extra time which I had previously apparently been wasting fiddling about on my tablet and achieving very little. I also hadn't realised how rushed I normally feel, hurtling at ninety miles an hour from one responsibility to the next - again, apparently pointlessly, since during Cauldron Time the housework still got done, the Spud arrived at nursery on time, and everything was accomplished which needed to be, without me turning up everywhere sweaty, out of breath and slightly miserable. It was such a relief to stop trying to push the river.

I also spent time in darkness - the Spud and I sat out one night to watch the sunset, and were delighted to discover that our garden is apparently a bat hotspot. We also went walking under the full moon one night. I realised that I habitually do everything indoors, but I will try to make the effort to wrap up warm and head outside for reading, writing and playing (drinking coffee, doing surveys and checking emails could all be done outside too).

I found myself getting creative in the kitchen - mixing Penicillin cocktails on a whim to use up the last of the 'good' whisky, collecting rosehips and making syrup. 

I blitzed through my reading pile, and delved into poetry for the first time in a long time (The Girl and the Goddess by Nikita Gill was my starting point). Another notable book I read was The Stopping Places by Damien Le Bas. I found it really interesting to have a glimpse of different cultures and different ways of seeing the world, as well as different ways of experiencing this island where I live. I've been seeing Britain very differently since I started looking more into Druidry, folklore and history and learning about what's beneath and beyond the malls, car parks and council estates, and I find it fascinating to have these small peeks into a multiplicity of ways of living and of being here. We may share the same small bit of ground but we relate to it, see it and understand it in completely different ways. 

The lack of social media was a blessing during Cauldron Time. I often feel torn, as I've made some great connections on Instagram lately and found out about some wonderful events, but I can't deny I am more content without the mental chatter and feeling of being surveilled. No amount of giveaways are worth my peace of mind, surely?

The days felt strange - my life revolves mainly around caring for others and managing the household, so it was hard to find time alone or to deeply meditate as I might have liked, but the week was full of little coincidences and synchronicities, and that feeling that I was just outside normal life, in a secret and special space. The slower pace was wonderful - I did about as much as I normally would, but without feeling frazzled or habitually tense. And I prioritised time with my son over time with other people, which felt right - an important boundary that at times I had been lax about upholding.

I found taking Cauldron Time to be valuable, profound and powerful. There were many lessons that I plan to take forward, such as not letting all my time drain into my screens, being present, slowing down, and recognising that time with the Spud or time alone is also special and important, and that it's okay to prioritise it even when that means saying no to other things. 

Afterwards I felt more nourished, more settled, less scattered. I didn't really want to come back to normal reality, and I hope to try to keep my focus on rest throughout winter. I definitely plan to take Cauldron Time again next year, and at least once more this winter, to help me continue to live with more mindfulness and intention. 

I also had a guest spot this month talking to Hazel and Jenny on The Wheel podcast for their Sustainable Yule episode - listen here.

How I Shop Sustainably: Basic Cosmetics

I've generally operated a policy for this blog where I don't post links to products or shops, but as more and more people are getting interested in sustainable, ethical and zero waste products, I thought this might be a good time to share how I've tweaked my personal shopping habits for those things I use on a regular basis. As well as what I currently buy, I'll discuss what my criteria are, what I look out for, and what I actively avoid - and why. If you find this interesting or helpful, drop me a comment and let me know, as this could become a series. 

I'm UK-based so this will be quite UK-focused, so friends overseas, do please chime in with your own best tips and recommendations.

The very basics

Deodorant: switching to natural deodorant was one of the first swaps I made, during my pregnancy when I read that aluminium from antiperspirants has been found in breast milk. The detox phase, when the aluminium 'plugs' leave your pores, was a real thing, and there was a fortnight when I smelt absolutely horrible, and a period of a few months' trial and error while I hunted down a natural deodorant that actually worked. I found that I'm sensitive to baking soda, which limited my choices somewhat as it's a common ingredient in natural deodorants. I also prioritise plastic-free, recyclable or compostable packaging and only use products which are cruelty free and vegan.

I still have a few products in rotation and try new things as I come across them, but my go-to favourites now are Space Cat by Awake Organics, which I find very effective - I don't have to wash and reapply several times a day as I do with other products in my rotation, and one tin lasts me about six months so it's good value - and the sensitive range from Wild Deodorant, which I was originally gifted by a friend and found so effective I used it at my wedding.

I would note that what works for me may not work for you; one of my close friends couldn't get on with natural deodorants at all and proclaims herself firmly Team Antiperspirant, and you will almost certainly have to try a few products before you find your perfect fit, but for me it's worth it because antiperspirants and many conventional deodorants contain ingredients like propylene glycol (which is also used in antifreeze and is considered potentially dangerous to the nervous system and heart) and parabens (which potentially can cause hormonal imbalance in our bodies and have been flagged as possible carcinogens, as well as being linked to birth defects).

A word on ingredients. You may be wondering, if these ingredients are so bad, why are they in so many of our everyday products. Well, of course the cosmetics industry is regulated, although this varies depending on where you live - thousands of ingredients deemed dangerous in Europe and the UK are widely used in the USA and elsewhere. However, ingredients are often tested individually and declared as 'not harmful' as a small dose within a product - except when you then have the same ingredient as a small dose in your shampoo, your body lotion, your hand soap, your washing up liquid and so forth, you could be applying the same potential toxin in quite a large dose indeed without realising. We also don't commonly test for how ingredients that may be in different products react with each other - for example, if you have one potential hormone disruptor in your body lotion and another in your shower gel, we don't know how the combination might affect your body once it's absorbed into your skin.

For more information about this subject I would recommend the book No More Dirty Looks by Siobhan O'Connor and Alexandra Spunt, here's a basic list of ingredients I avoid, and here's a database you can use to find out how safe your products are.

Toothpaste: my main issue with toothpaste is packaging, which is usually plastic and non-recyclable. Many well-known brands also test on animals, including Colgate and Sensodyne. 

An obvious swap I would recommend is a bamboo toothbrush or an electric toothbrush with recyclable heads, which are becoming more widely available (check your local zero waste shop, if you have one). I use toothpaste tabs with fluoride, which are available in refillable tins or compostable bags. (I also use a copper tongue scraper, and mouthwash tabs - the ones I'm currently using are from Lush and come in a plastic pot which you can return to the store for a discount on your next purchase, but ideally I'll be looking for a plastic free alternative.)

Body wash: solid soap is your best bet for minimal packaging. I like Lush's soaps as a treat, but they're not that budget-friendly, so in general I use one of a variety of soaps from the Really Wild Soap Co. You can also usually find some lovely natural, organic soaps at your local farmer's market or zero waste shop, or on Etsy.

Face wash: my go-to is Movis from Lush, because it comes in a solid bar (and I like the yeasty smell). 

Moisturiser: my favourite moisturiser is Imperialis from Lush. It does come in a plastic pot but again this is returnable to the store for refill and reuse. My skin has always been a source of embarrassment for me as I'm prone to breakouts, but since I stopped wearing foundation on a daily basis and switched to natural ingredients I have seen a big improvement.

Sunscreen: I have several priorities for sunscreen. Firstly, I only use what's known as a physical sunscreen rather than Nivea et al, which produce chemical suncreen. This is because chemical sunscreen contains some less than pleasant ingredients, which when they are absorbed by the skin can leach into the bloodstream. Physical sunblock, aka zinc oxide, is not absorbed by the skin (so you do have to put some effort into application to avoid the Friendly Ghost look), but does block both UVA and UVB rays.

The other downside to those chemical sunscreens is that they are highly toxic to marine life and coral reefs - even if you're not using it on the beach, all our water reaches the ocean eventually. For my little one and on my tattoos I use a high SPF sunscreen from Amazinc - yup, it's pricey, but I've been using the same bottle for three years now. For myself, particularly on my face, I use an SPF 25 from Shade, which comes in a sturdy tin so I can carry it about with me and reapply when needed. 

Shampoo and conditioner: finding a natural shampoo bar (I like bars because there's no packaging, in case you didn't guess) that works in hard water when I'm at home, without leaving my hair greasy, sticky or waxy, was a bit of a challenge. If you live in a soft water area, you can pretty much take your pick.

Sea salt seems to be the magic ingredient for me, and in hard water areas you also need a foaming agent like SLS, which I would generally prefer to avoid. There are some good, effective alternatives now made from coconut, so I'm hopeful I'll eventually find the perfect bar. Meanwhile, I'm using Seanik from Lush.

For all your solid soap bars I do recommend a soap drying rack, as letting them dry between uses makes them last much longer instead of dissolving into a soggy mess.

I also use a conditioner bar - I'm still open to trying new products here and looking for a leave-in conditioner that doesn't come in a plastic container, but the conditioner I'm using currently is from Wideye.

Lotion: if I'm being really honest, lotion isn't really a basic for me as I tend to only remember to use it when I shave, but the one I'm using currently is this one from Happy Holistics, which is rich and smells delicious.

Hand and foot cream: also not something I use terribly regularly, but I go straight to basics here and just use a jar of shea butter, a tip I got from Lucy AitkenRead's book Freedom Face, with the immortal line "No matter how you say this - "shee-uh" or "shay" - you will be corrected by someone. I like to do a huge fart at the same time as saying it, to distract from the fact I may be pronouncing it wrong."

BOOK LAUNCH TOMORROW

It's finally here!

The product of several journals, a collection of sleepless nights, a sockful of baby naps, a frustration of footnotes, a great deal of anxiety and the odd meltdown or two...

My first published book, The Anti-consumerist Druid, officially launches tomorrow.

Click here to see more on the publisher's website.

I've also been popping up in various places around the Internet ahead of the launch - I had an interview with ev0ke magazine this month, which you can read here, and over here with Musing Mystical, to chat about the book.

Here are a few of my favourite comments from reviewers and readers so far:

 "From the start I was drawn in by Townsend’s friendly tone and nonjudgmental style. She showed her own failings and made it clear that it is normal to be drawn into the cycle of consumerism in our modern lives. Her story is probably at least a little familiar to most of us.

Her struggles are so relatable. Her honesty is refreshing.

The second part of the book about connecting with nature and magic was also something that resonated with me. One thing that really hit home for me was to create instead of consume. In an era where we seem to be expected to monetise our hobbies, Townsend talks about creativity as part of life not just as an identity or for profit.

The Anti-consumerist Druid is a book that reminds us to embrace creativity and mindfulness over consumerism. To simply do creative things and embrace the everyday joys that life has to offer.

Personally, I think this book has inspired me to be more mindful of what I consume and how it affects me and those around me. It has reminded me of the importance of real connection and to become the person we want instead of just trying to build a personality through consumption and social media." Laura Morrigan

 "Katrina Townsend's experience of navigating from a consumerist world into one that enters the realms of spirituality is beautifully expressed in this book. Her writing is open and honest, humorous and thought-provoking and takes you along the journey to where one can find peace in both the self and the world. It's an ongoing process, as she demonstrates so well in this book, of reviewing and reflecting upon one's habits and, for some, addiction, and being able to come out with a real sense of breaking the cycle of wanting more, through learning to love what you have. In this we find spirituality, expressed in this book through the tradition of Druidry and its love of nature which guides us to live our lives according to that love. I highly recommend this book to everyone, Druids and Pagans, and people of all faiths and none." Joanna van der Hoeven

"Katrina Townsend's journey from hedonistic consumerism to a deep communion with nature makes for a fascinating and compelling read. She writes with engaging honesty as well as humour, delving into the wisdom and magic of our Celtic past to find her own truth in the modern world. Her story will resonate with anyone who has found solace in walking England's green lanes, or glimpsed an older reality in the contours of hill and hedgerow." Jill Todd

 "Katrina Townsend has written a really important book that explores – based on her own experience – what consumer culture does to a person. She shares her experiences of compulsive shopping, social media addiction and the way all of this eroded her sense of self. Furthermore she does so without falling into the kind of judgemental puritanism you can find in the newly converted, and also avoids self pity or anything that seems self indulgent. It’s an impressive balancing act and makes the book exceedingly readable." Nimue Brown

Fifty-Three Ways to Rewild Your Mind

1. Read poetry, even if - especially if - you haven't read any for years

2. Ditch Amazon - go to your local library

3. Begin a meditation practice

4. Make a meal from local, seasonal goods

5. Cut down your social media time (I signed up for email newsletters from my favourite creatives so I don't miss the relevant stuff)

6. Have your first or last hot beverage of the day outside in the garden

7. Challenge your habitual consumption behaviours - for example, take a break from online shopping and visit local retailers instead, or try buying only second-hand for a while. Disrupt the consumption engine in your head

8. Make or mend something with your hands

9. Swim or paddle in wild water (obviously take all relevant safety precautions)

10. Spend an evening by candlelight

11. Make offerings to your ancestors

12. Consider celebrating, marking or acknowledging the solstices, equinoxes and fire festivals to create awareness of the cyclical nature of time

13. Rest

14. Tend a plant or garden

15. Forage for wild foods (this doesn't need to be more complicated than blackberries or apples)

16. Compost

17. Become aware of the phases of the moon

18. Spend time in starlight

19. Speak your truth

20. Make space in your life to appreciate art. Obviously this is very subjective, but some artists I love who to me express wild mind include Rima Staines, Iris Compiet, Jackie Morris, Hannah Willow, Brian Froud, Julia Jeffrey, Nadia Turner and Brett Manning.

21. Read widely and voraciously on anything that speaks to you

22. Again this is subjective, but some books that specifically evoke the feeling I wanted to achieve include Wild by Jay Griffiths, The Enchanted Life by Sharon Blackie, Rooted by Lyanda Lynn Haupt and The Way Home by Mark Boyle

23. Listen to live music

24. Dance

25. Consider your relationship to movement. What would you do if changing the appearance of your body wasn't a factor? I have a particular hatred of the sterile box that is the gym, so I admit to being biased, but I love to exercise in a way that makes me feel good, which for me includes yoga, walking, dance, the occasional run, swimming and paddleboarding when I am near the sea, and the odd game of badminton.

26. Check out the ingredients in your cosmetics. Consider a switch to cruelty free products. Better yet, natural, organic and cruelty free. Or even consider making your own - books like Wild Beauty by Jana Blankenship and Freedom Face by Lucy AitkenRead have an abundance of recipes

27. Buy only what you need

28. Learn the names of the animals, plants and birds in your immediate environment

29. Wander

30. If you have the opportunity, listen to stories being told out loud - this can be magical

31. Look at the world around you with fresh eyes. Slightly cheesily, I think of being a tourist everywhere I go, and look for historical buildings, unusual details, things that tell a story about the place. I have a particular fondness for old pubs, which are often the longest-lived buildings in an area and packed to the beams with ghost stories, and if this also includes sampling a local ale or cider, well, so be it. Often we go about with half our brain in 'the great digital nowhere', and this can be a way to bring ourselves back to physical reality

32. See what's on near you. Whilst I find that minimising my social media use as much as possible is the best thing for me, I can't deny it's really useful for finding out about workshops, markets, mending cafes, live music, Pagan gatherings, community gardens and all kinds of other interesting events that help me feel more rooted in and connected to my local area

33. One concept of Stoic philosophy that intrigues me is of not being addicted to anything. I can easily fall into habitual ruts (this whole blog started because of my shopping addiction), so I find it useful to regularly challenge those habits and make sure I am in control of them and not the other way round. Phone addiction is probably one of the most obvious, particularly for those of us who are rewilding, but this year I have gone without caffeine just to make sure that I could! Maybe consider having a look at your dependencies and shaking things up a little

34. I was surprised this year to discover how much I am held back by negative body image. I have found books like Beyond Beautiful, The Beauty Myth, Just Eat It and You Are Not A Before Picture really helpful in challenging this

35. Watch a sunrise or sunset

36. Let your bare feet touch the earth

37. Feel the sun, rain or wind on your bare skin

38. Let yourself change with the seasons. Be aware of yourself and your needs. In winter, when nature is sleeping and dormant, you may find that you, too, need to rest, and go within. Don't fight this urge. Capitalism and ideas about productivity and linear progress have made this very difficult, but do what you can. (This is a work in progress for me. I recently encountered ideas about living more cyclically through the work of Moss at Walk the Spiral Path, and I was surprised by how much of an emotional reaction I had to the concept)

39. Consider learning some of the skills your ancestors would have had - weaving, spinning, knitting, pottery, playing an instrument, for example. Ancestral crafts connect us to our history and our bodies as well as being beneficial to our mental health

40. Sketching, writing/journaling or painting are all ways to unwind without resorting to the endless scroll

41. Plant lore and herbalism teach us more ways to connect to the world around us. Although there is a vast amount of knowledge available here, don't be intimidated - you don't need to know everything about everything to brew a simple herbal tea (my simplest is this: I chuck a handful of lemon balm leaves into a mug, pour on hot water, and drink) or make an incense blend. 

42. Spend time with your friends and family (whatever family means to you). Sharing food by firelight is often wonderful

43. Stop mowing your lawn

44. Don't be afraid of the weather - just get a good coat

45. Go off-grid for a little while

46. Turn off phone notifications for email

47. If you can, spend a night outdoors

48. When you're outside, check in with all your senses (maybe not taste? But also maybe yes?)

49. Focus more on what makes you feel grounded, content, joyful, free or simply grateful. Living by your true priorities and values, not those of the dominant culture, is not easy, but it is importantvalues

50. Spend time alone

51. Challenge your comfort zone. So much of our money, time and energy is poured into our comfort and convenience. We are, in a sense, domesticated. How will we cope with the societal changes ahead in this era of climate change? (Many more of us in the UK will be experiencing cold and darkness this winter. Having these changes foisted upon us as the result of inept governing is, of course, terrible.) Finding ways to increase our strength and resilience could turn out to be beneficial in the long run. Common suggestions include cold water exposure, spending time in wild places or without electric light, breathwork practices such as the Wim Hof method, building relationships and communities, and learning how to grow, preserve and forage for food

52. Find a sit-spot that you can visit at least once a week

53. Care for and nourish your body, whatever that looks like for you

The Rarr

You might think I'd be used to getting my ass handed to me by oracle cards by now, but sometimes the accuracy of the insight revealed by a picture on a bit of cardboard still blows me away.

I pulled a card from my Faerie Oracle deck one morning when I was freaking out about style - again. I asked the cards, essentially, who I should try to be, but the card I pulled was the Rarr, reversed - a somewhat ominous warning that my energy was out of control, I was all over the place, distracted, I should make no decisions but take a cold shower, meditate, and try to ground myself.

I was slightly alarmed by this, and gave myself a quick three-card reading, which basically said 1) you need to reground yourself; 2) you need to reconnect with nature; 3) you need to slow down and stop trying to push the river.

Surprisingly (to me, perhaps not to you?), one of the most helpful practices for staying happy and motivated during my current no-buy was renewing my study of Druidry. My books are now peppered with post-its, I developed a strong daily routine that includes time outside and tending my altar before my yoga practice each morning, and I feel grounded, calmer and more contented. Seeing my everyday activities as sacred really has an effect on the energy that I am able to bring to them. Not that I'm never Shouty Mum any more, but definitely not as much. 

At this moment I have decided not to sign up to one of the two 'big Druid' correspondence courses in the UK, which are offered by the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids and the British Druid Order respectively. I'm aware that both are highly regarded and I have sent off for samples from both, but found myself reluctant to proceed. Partly because a lot of the basic material is already known to me from fifteen-ish years knocking around the Pagan community and studying folklore (and assorted New Age practices, many of which don't resonate with me - the OBOD course in particular I have seen described as New Age), partly because I'm not a joiner by nature, and partly because I'm not a huge fan of scripted ritual or male/female binaries. Yet I feel very connected with and drawn to Druidry, I just feel that as such I need to approach it in a way that makes the most sense for me. 

So I have a massive stack of books from different authors with different 'takes' on Druidry, and I'm also considering a course or two from Sharon Blackie, which aren't specifically Druidic but offer a deep dive into concepts such as the anima mundi and the mythopoetic worldview, which I feel would be useful. (I also attended Moss's excellent Re-enchantment is Resistance workshop back in the summer, and loved it.) So I've ended up with a sort of hodge-podge ramshackle hedge Druidry, and I imagine that there are people who may object to me using the word 'Druid' because of that, but I cannot overstate the value this way of relating to the world brings to my life.

For a few months this year I'd drifted away from studying Druidry. I always seemed to have other things to be doing - laundry, dishes, mucking about on my tablet. But after renewing my nature connection in Pembrokeshire, it seemed totally natural to return to it. Not only did it add fresh motivation and enjoyment to the practice of my no-buy, but it felt like a step I needed to ground that frantic, out-of-control Rarr energy.

I also recently re-read some of my own work, including my own book and this blog. I was startled and disappointed to notice how easily I'd slipped out of some good habits and into some bad ones. I actually had my shit much more together and felt overall more content when I was working much harder on my no-buy challenge. I think I knew that, deep down, and I think that's why I keep coming back to the idea of a no-buy year even when common sense should be telling me to give up. I've tried, in my book, to express the sense of freedom and deep joy I began to discover when I reoriented my life around not shopping, but even so, I've increasingly drifted away from it in the years since.

I think I need to take my own advice once again, go back to the beginning, and re-root myself into the practices that led me here. It isn't easy, but it is so beneficial to me.

The 'Mrs Baggins' Style Challenge

As you'll know from last week's post, I was beginning to think of style as a kind of scam to encourage us to feel dissatisfied with our selves and our clothes. You might think that this feeling would lead to a sense of liberation, but instead I found myself a little despondent: "You mean, this is it? Get used to feeling slightly uncomfortable in my skin, all the time, forever? I never get to changing-room-movie-montage my way out of this?" 

Then, in a rather timely manner I received a newsletter from Jill Chivers at Shop Your Wardrobe which contained a link to this post, which contains references to lots of studies about how the way we dress can affect our mood, confidence and self-image. I couldn't help but think back to how I'd felt all day in my jeans, which were just slightly too short to look right with my shoes. I'd wanted to work on accepting myself, but was I just stifling myself instead? Why didn't I just change the damn shoes?

This has been a year of many challenges, from several months of no-buy to a big rewilding plan, walking across hot coals and wearing everything in my 100+ item wardrobe. So I started to think, perhaps it was time to set myself some more.

I recently came across a piece of wisdom that suggests we give ourselves three years to work towards a chosen goal. At the end of that time, we have either succeeded, made progress, or perhaps learned that it's time to peacefully let go. But I've been working on this no-buy for three years, and to be honest I didn't fancy spending another three obsessing over the contents of my wardrobe.

So I decided, okay. Three months. For three months, I would lean into this whole style thing. I would do my best to learn whatever lessons it had to teach. I would shop my wardrobe. I would not leave the house in an outfit I did not like. I would take copious notes on how I felt and how it affected me. However, I would not shop. I would either make outfits with my own clothes or borrow from friends. Adding new clothes seemed like a thing that would only compound my state of identity crisis and confusion. 

At first I thought I should get some style guides and try to enact their advice, perhaps challenge myself with a different book for each month, but then I wondered if maybe I was looking at the whole thing wrong. The point wasn't to become stylish, it was to find my style. I feel fairly certain that my style is not to be found in someone else's list of essential basics or defined by which fruit or vegetable I most resemble. So I decided to start really, really simple, by just putting together outfits that I actually like when I get dressed in the mornings.

I know, right, it's hardly revolutionary. Usually when we are encouraged to discover our style, the suggestion is that style is 'out there somewhere', possibly still hanging on the rail in H&M, waiting for us to go and catch it in our fashion-y net. This is the kind of talk that makes me wary, makes me start thinking fashion is a con game. Comparatively, consider the wisdom of Leena Norms: 

 "When it comes to showing who you are through your clothes, I think that isn't a misguided idea, but if clothes are supposed to speak about who we are, surely where they came from is as important as, like... what colour they are. How frequently I buy them is as important as how 'me' they are, whatever that means. I also think that re-wearing clothes makes them more you. Like, you really settle in to your style when you re-wear stuff you really, really love, and people start knowing you for that. So rather than always having to reinvent the wheel and walk into New Look and be like 'Right, I've got to find an item that's 'me',' the secret might actually be already be at home in your wardrobe into looking like yourself."

I'd already learned from wearing my wardrobe that I have those things because I like them. So it's kind of ironic that I end up feeling bad when I wear them. Especially when I quite possibly have the power to... not.

Do you know what made me think twice about buying a bunch of style guides to slavishly follow their advice? (I recently flicked through one that suggested leather leggings are a must-have wardrobe staple... all I will say is, to each their own, but I cannot express how much I do not wish to wear a pair of leather leggings in this lifetime.) I was scrolling on Pinterest, because although I know it's a total waste of time it sometimes feels like I'm doing something productive and if I can just find the right image it will magically solve all my fashion conundrums forever, and I found myself looking at a picture of Emma Orbach.

I deeply admire Emma Orbach. She lives in a self-built hobbit house on the slopes of a mountain in Pembrokeshire, off the grid, where she lives off the land, tends horses and plays the harp. And has done, without running water or electricity, for over twenty years.

In this photograph, Emma Orbach was wearing a crystal pendant necklace and a stripy v-neck jumper. And I thought, for heaven's sake, this woman lives in a mud hut in the middle of nowhere, presumably without a mirror, milking goats and communing with her spirit guides, she obviously knows there are WAY more important things than her appearance, and she can still be bothered to put on a nice necklace that she likes. So why the hell can't I?

I wanted to wear my equivalent of Emma Orbach's necklace. Nice things, that I like, in a combination that I enjoy. 

So I'm calling it The Mrs Baggins Style Challenge. I give myself three months to see if a little bit of style really can change my life, or even just my mood. I'll keep you posted.

This week, this blog is also two years old! Does it feel like two years to you?!

Lessons From A Style Icon... Me, Aged Nine

I originally intended this post to be a light-hearted and humorous look at my childhood fashion sense, but when I broke out my mum's photo albums to get some ideas, I was surprised to find that to the eyes of my adult self, I wasn't the style disaster I seemed to remember. With one or two exceptions, notably when I started to approach my teen years and started to seek out weird items for the sake of weirdness itself, I actually really liked the items my younger self chose and the way I put them together.

I started to think, perhaps the problem isn't my tendency to drift towards the quirky and eclectic, but simply the fact that I haven't allowed that inner style to grow and mature. I seem to think the options are 'dress exactly as I would have dressed circa age ten' or 'morph into someone else'. I wondered, would it not be possible to take such style staples as tie dye dungarees, paisley harem pants and bags made of rainbow fun fur, and use them to create a look that is just a little more polished... but still, essentially, me? I've been trying to make myself stay the same as I would have at eighteen (or even eight), but eight-year-old me would have relished the opportunities I have as a grown woman to expand my repertoire, style different things in different ways, be elegant or glamorous. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to stagnate out of fear and self-consciousness. I feel like it's time for me to accept my true tastes on the one hand, but also to let myself grow and appreciate the stage of life I'm in.

My childhood outfits and individual item choices were not nearly as bad as I had thought. The problems, such as they were, only came when my criteria changed from a simple 'I like this', to 'this is really weird, I'd better get it'. This is similar to something I find myself doing now when I worry about whether my look is still recognizably 'alternative'. So the lesson for me here is to let these kinds of distinctions go, and to recentre the simple question, 'how much do I really like it?'. 

One thing I really miss from my childhood outfits was that I didn't ever feel like I often do now, as though there's a right and a wrong way to put together an outfit. Sometimes I find this feeling so paralyzing that instead I don't bother and just sling on whatever's clean. It's not so much a feeling that other people will judge me, but that I can never quite reach an image in my head, so that however hard I try, I can still catch a glimpse of myself in a shop window and feel gut-punched - all that time on hair, make-up and styling and I still don't like the way I look. Why make the effort, if I'm going to feel rubbish anyway? 

Yet as a younger person, I always enjoyed the outfits I put together and felt like a badass in them. So why had I developed this negative perception of my own style and stopped trusting my own judgement on clothes? I can't say for sure, but I do remember that secondary school was a bit of a shock to the system. Before that I had muddled along happily enough in a village primary that wasn't really big enough to have an 'in crowd' and an 'out crowd'. My taste was already verging on the wacky - I do remember turning up to a school fete, aged nine or ten, with crimped hair, silver-blue lipstick, gold moon and star earrings, hiking boots, and a black faux leather high-collared mini dress with a chunky zip down the front. I don't remember anyone commenting, either, which tells me I might already have had a reputation for somewhat theatrical outfit choices. I love the confidence I had back then. I thought I looked cool in what I was wearing so I just assumed that everyone else did too.

Secondary school was very different. It turned out that the popular kids didn't much like my look, and whenever I made choices that I thought would impress them, I ended up making it worse. I got this electric blue pleather jacket that I thought was absolutely the bee's knees - it got worn once, as I was laughed out of the cafeteria. So I plumped for the total opposite - a cream corduroy trench - and got picked on for that instead. My hair cuts were even worse. In the early 2000s, I was taking my inspiration from the media I loved, so one summer holiday I opted for the hairstyle Mary Stuart Masterson had in the film Some Kind of Wonderful. I guess my peer group weren't enjoying 80s teen romances during their holidays, as the reaction when we went back to school was... not good. Even some of my friends would ring me up and let me know I'd been seen on the weekend "wearing black tights with a tweed miniskirt and white running shoes - what were you thinking?!" or, in a dubious voice, "my mum said you were dressed... sort of funky." I ended up feeling that I couldn't get it right. It never occurred to me to just do what everyone else was doing - I think I'm actually grateful for that character trait.

But even if I had been the worst-dressed child in the history of the planet Earth, why did I feel that that affected my ability to dress myself as an adult? Loads of us have some regrettable style choices in our pasts and dodgy photos in our family albums. Children aren't supposed to be miniature style icons, after all - they're supposed to be kids, snot-nosed, grubby, and covered in mud. But speaking personally, I chose my own clothes from a very young age. My mum often reiterates that I wasn't interested in fashion as a child, but that's not quite the full story. I wasn't interested in how other people saw me, but very early on, I really loved clothes. I fell in love with fabrics and prints, I pored over catalogues, I loved raking through the aisles at Tammy Girl. I wrote detailed outfit ideas and packing lists in my diaries. It never occurred to me that clothes expressed something about me to other people - I just knew that they made me happy.

I get a similar feeling looking through these old photos as I do from street style sites with a certain aesthetic, like Hel Looks and NYC Looks. I don't necessarily like all the looks, although some are very inspiring to me, but I feel like they have the same vibrancy and playfulness. I also love reading the little snippets about what inspired each style or outfit, and I get lots of ideas for new ways to layer and put together outfits with what I already own.

Sometimes lately I've been convinced that a makeover, or a final, curated iteration of 'my personal style', will make me happier and more confident. But I've also noticed that everyone claiming that the right clothes will change my life is also selling a book, or a course, or a series of personal styling Zoom sessions, etc, etc. I remain unconvinced by any style guide that breaks women into categories (Timeless Classic! Eccentric Vintage! Androgyne!) or provides a one-size-fits-all list of things everyone's wardrobe should have.

The "life-changing makeover/style is important because it controls how other people see you" narrative is very alluring - much like a diet. I want to believe that my most contented, ideal self is only a personal styling session away. But honestly? I'm starting to think it might be bullshit. This makeover narrative fuels everything from personal shoppers' careers to reality TV, and seems to bring women so much joy and confidence, and yet I'm starting to wonder if the whole concept is a con, a scam designed to make the already-insecure feel dissatisfied with what we have. I've changed my whole appearance a lot of times, and still felt not pretty enough, not cool enough, not enough in general. I'm beginning to doubt that 'becoming stylish' will make me any happier. I don't always feel great in my clothes, but maybe I need to try changing the feelings, not the wardrobe.

I Wore Every Single Item In My Wardrobe

In the manner of quintessential mad scientists throughout time, I decided to run an experiment on myself (and my clothes) to see if I could settle the ongoing wardrobe conundrum that I identified in my last post. The premise was simple: I set out to wear every single piece of clothing and accessory that I own.

I know I was recently thinking about adding some more styles and silhouettes to my wardrobe, but it occurred to me that this perhaps wouldn't be the best plan while I was still overwhelmed and finding it difficult to identify what I do and don't like. I could easily end up fielding total chaos, and I didn't want that. So first I decided to try to get clear on what I do and don't feel good in - but not by intellectualising it or thinking my way through it, because I've already learned that that doesn't work. I couldn't decide just by thinking about it whether I feel happier wearing more quirky, unconventional outfits or simple, refined ones - or something in between - but I realised that I could start to find out simply by using what I already had and just paying attention. Do I feel embarrassed and unattractive or cheerful and empowered in bright layers? Do I feel invisible and staid or sexy and elegant in plain black? Time to find out.

I'd noticed over the course of this year that whilst I often think I'm wearing all my clothes, there are items I do actually avoid, often because of a vague feeling of discomfort that I've chosen to ignore instead of take notice of, or because my body doesn't get on with the garment (like shorts that are just so pretty, but which also ride up between my thighs and have to be pulled inelegantly out of my crotch every two minutes). So to try to help myself stop avoiding and ignoring these feelings, I started using this wardrobe inventory spreadsheet from Christina Mychas. I just took a moment each morning after getting dressed to note down the items I had put on. I also started noting in my journal each evening how I had felt throughout the day.

I felt a bit worried starting this experiment because I had a feeling that I didn't actually like the way I felt in a lot of my clothes. I was also concerned that I might mistake temporary boredom with an item for genuine discomfort or dislike, so I decided to only commit to wearing the items at first, not making any final decisions about them. That was a bridge I'd cross when I came to it.

So what did I learn from challenging myself to wear my stuff?

First, I learned to pay attention more to the most subtle of feelings. Sure, the T-shirt and leggings I'm wearing right now are cute, but I can feel that I don't want to go and run my errands later wearing this, I'd rather change into something a little smarter. Previously I would have ignored the tiny deep-down feeling of reluctance and just gone about my day feeling a little bit less-than.

I also learned that having some things I don't wear often is... not a bad thing. Classic minimalist logic would dictate that I should get rid of things I wear less than once a year, but I have some beautiful medieval dresses that I only wear very occasionally... But I love them! They make me so happy! I started to think it would be a joyless wardrobe (life) without the occasional frivolous thing, even if it wasn't practical for regular use.

Encouragingly, filling in the inventory spreadsheet allowed me to see changing trends in my purchasing behaviours. Items purchased before 2020 were more likely to be bought new, and for reasons such as 'just liked it'. Items purchased in 2022 were almost all secondhand, and the reasons were more likely to be 'replacement', 'versatile', 'basic' or 'needed for a trip' (the latter being a ski jacket I got off Vinted to keep me warm and dry on our Shetland sojourn). 

I found that I could style 99% of the things I had in multiple ways, even the 'maybe' items and many things I had mentally earmarked as unwearable. The exceptions were the items that simply did not fit or which caused physical discomfort in some way, and eventually I ordered a Re-Fashion bag to deal with those.

A couple of weeks in, I noticed that I was feeling differently about my wardrobe. The itch to buy this or that 'one more item' to 'pull everything together' had completely faded as I was coming to appreciate the sheer vastness of what I already had. I was also coming to understand just how much money, labour and resources had gone into the making of this hugely abundant selection of clothes. This made me want to keep wearing them for longer, instead of putting myself through some intensive makeover experience to end up with an entirely different set of clothes, which was the idea that had been niggling in the back of my mind for quite some time beforehand. I mean, I knew I had a lot, but actually making myself wear all the things helped me to experience that on a physical, visceral level. I have ENOUGH.

However, I also noticed that I had lots and lots of the same kind of thing. My biggest vice, apparently, was still T-shirts with printed designs, dozens of black ones in particular, mostly purchased for the simple reason 'I just liked it'. Whilst they are all wearable and I still like them, I have made a mental note that when they start to wear out I will replace a good half of them with different items - long-sleeved tops that I can layer with, tank tops for the hot weather we are seeing more regularly in the UK, maybe even some T-shirts that are not black (wild, I know). I've been pulled towards uniform dressing, and I do appreciate the simplicity of the tee-and-jeans combo, but after several weeks cycling through my many semi-identical tops, I was, frankly, a bit bored, and eager to mix things up a little bit. And not by buying another T-shirt, which I suspect is the strategy I was previously applying, hence why I have so many.

Did I manage to answer the question - simple or chaotic? Well, yes and no. I must admit that I don't think I'm ready for a uniform just yet. I found that I really enjoyed layering things in unusual ways and being creative. My emphasis remains on comfort and practicality, but I found a lot of enjoyment and - yes - empowerment in adding distinctive touches and flourishes. So I remain betwixt and between, but happily I no longer feel as though I'm being pulled in different directions, because I understand what works for me right now.

I also felt, for the first time in a long time, a strong connection to my younger self and my authentic style. At last I am beginning to choose to pay attention to my unique aesthetic impulses and preferences, rather than assuming that other people know more about style and taste than I do, at least as it applies to myself. 

This was a really worthwhile experiment, and I'm glad I made the effort to plumb the depths of my cupboard and those lurking 'maybe' boxes. Some of those items made the best outfits, by the way.

Inspiration:

Closet Beliefs that are Limiting Your Personal Style

My Ever-Evolving Relationship With My Clothes

6 Bad Style Habits You Need To Break ASAP

Fictional Fashion Icons vs. Uniform Dressing

I've been feeling baffled and frustrated that my style is not easily defined, neatly curated, nor particularly, um, stylish. But when I tried to make a list of my style inspirations from all the way back in primary school to nowadays, as prompted by some style questionnaire I was looking at, it suddenly became clear to me exactly why I may never have a single clothing rack of smart neutral basics, as much as I may appreciate how much a simple uniform would streamline my days.

You see, my list of fashion icons and inspirations, roughly chronologically, looks a little like this:

- Claudia Kishi

- Stargirl

- Tibby Tomko-Rollins

- Alex from T*Witches

- Mia Thermopolis (books NOT movies! Actually that goes for all of the above...)

- Willow Rosenberg

- Emilie Autumn

- Tank Girl

- Luna Lovegood

- Drew Barrymore in the 90s

- The entire cast of Whip It

- Karou (Daughter of Smoke and Bone)

- Mab Graves

- Amanda Palmer

- Patti Smith

- Keira Knightley

- Helena Bonham Carter

I don't doubt there's a few I've forgotten here, but that's about the shape of it I think. In fact, I know there were others, and it's going to seriously frustrate me that I can't remember them all. Not sure how I never put this together before, but the styles I have generally admired aren't exactly tidy and sleek. I appreciate fun and joy and chaos and imperfection.

I miss 90s celebrity style, where people actually looked like they chose their own clothes and maybe made mistakes but enjoyed the process, when teenagers weren't impeccably groomed and glamorous, when it didn't seem so much like there was a right and a wrong way to get dressed. The media probably still ripped them to shreds just the same, I guess, but it felt all a bit more relaxed to me. And yes, I realise that 90s styles are in right now, but to my mind it's somehow not quite the same... It's a bit more overstyled, deliberate, ironic. Or maybe that's just my age and cynicism showing.

Can I also say that as a youngster I loved The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants and Stargirl so, so much that I never read the sequels because I needed the characters to be perfectly preserved in my head and heart exactly as they were... Might have to get down to the library and have myself a good old binge read of those as well as many of these old favourites. (You're talking to someone who nearly exploded with joy when Carolyn Mackler wrote a sequel to The Earth, My Butt and Other Big Round Things over a decade later. Someone who is now writhing in horror because I just came across a Travelling Pants spoiler whilst trying to find a Tibby-description to link to in this post. Drat and double drat!!!)

Is it normal to have fictional fashion inspirations? I'm not sure. It's not necessarily all that helpful, though - fictional characters are static, their tastes and opinions are not real and therefore not subject to influence by their surroundings, they don't have to interact with the real world or worry about shopping, fit, storage or clothing care and maintenance. It doesn't hurt to have a paragraph in a novel inspire an outfit - but in the past I've tried to use it as a basis for a lifestyle. Maybe this works for some people, but historically it hasn't for me.

Another issue I have is that nowadays I find myself drawn almost equally to the exact opposite of these whimsical styles, as I alluded to at the start of this post. I'm intrigued by the idea of 'uniform dressing' and by the super-simplicity of pared-down capsule wardrobes. Sometimes I feel pulled in opposite directions by these two aesthetics, which are by their very nature the complete opposite of each other. (I know you can create a capsule wardrobe from bright and quirky items, but the aesthetic that appeals to me for this look is very simple and clean - lots of linen, denim, black and beige.)

The drawbacks of whimsical chaos are that it requires me to make a lot of micro-decisions every day; I often have a tendency to misinterpret unspoken dress codes and feel over- or under-dressed; because some items or looks are very statement or simply loud I receive a lot (a LOT) of unwanted opinions and feedback on my outfits; when out and about I can tend towards self-consciousness or feeling uncomfortable; it encourages overshopping because it tends towards a maximalist aesthetic; outfits may have components which are less comfortable or require a lot of managing; I don't feel as grown-up, attractive or elegant as I would like or sometimes as though I'm stuck in my most awkward childhood and teenage years, so it doesn't do a lot for my self-confidence. I also find myself not really having an honest answer to questions like, "Do I still actually want to dress like this or is it just what I've always done? Do I actually like these clothes or do I like being recognised as 'the quirky one'?"

The drawbacks of a streamlined uniform are that I can feel constricted or bored very easily; that it is harder to be creative or playful; I feel oddly as though I am betraying my past self; it is harder to find and choose wardrobe items and I can end up either overspending on individual items or not being able to source what I think is the right thing, and feeling paralysed or stuck - I feel that if you have a limited selection of items they need to be perfect and this can be really quite difficult, particularly as my weight fluctuates. My trip to Brighton also showed that despite my best attempts to follow or devise formulas and make well-thought-out purchasing decisions, I don't always understand myself well enough to get it right, which feels more high-stakes with a fifty-item wardrobe where any errors in judgement make the whole thing less manageable and can't be blended in like they can in a larger, more eclectic wardrobe. Also, perhaps this is just a personal quirk, but having a stripped-back aesthetic can put more focus on face and body (e.g. feeling like I need to make more effort with make-up to avoid looking unfeminine or boring) which can feel intimidating and not all that helpful. I also find myself worrying more about whether I appear stylish to other people.

Perhaps there is no right answer. I recently had my bra-strap-length hair cut into a chin-length bob, and whilst objectively I think that length is a touch more flattering on me I was surprised it doesn't actually make a huge difference to how I look or how I feel. I had been anxious about cutting my hair and really attached to the idea of having long hair, but I find I don't miss it or even particularly think about it. This was disappointing at first, but then it became quite liberating, because it meant I didn't have to obsess about my hair or attach part of my identity to my hairstyle. I can change it up whenever I feel like I want a refresh. More to the point, I realised that there really is not an objectively perfect hairstyle for me 'out there' somewhere that I am failing to find. If only I could figure out how to apply the same logic to clothes!

Is there a way I can create a wardrobe that is playful and wild but also simple and effortless? 

Also, some more bits and bobs - firstly, an article of mine in the October issue of ev0ke Pagan and lifestyle magazine is available to read online here.

Secondly, a five-star review for my upcoming book from blogger Stefanie at Owl's Rainbow - you can read here.

I Still Feel Like a Shopping Addict: My No-Buy August

After the success of my No-Buy July, I decided to carry on and do a No-Buy August. Although I'd realised at the end of July that my determination not to spend can sometimes be very punitive, which I think is a part of why I sometimes have these breakout shopping binges, so I decided to try to take a slightly more relaxed approach with my trip to St David's, where some of my favourite sustainable fashion shops are - I only get to go there once a year, I know I'm not going to go crazy and buy everything in the store, so I would let myself have a browse and maybe make a purchase.

I was kind of planning in general to offer myself this more relaxed approach going forward. Sure, "I went a year without shopping," sounds cool and would be a great thing to have achieved, but the actual end goal I'm hoping for is a simplified life where I don't spend so much time and energy on consumerism, money and stuff. I don't think that the way to get to that place is by heaping guilt on myself all the time. Yes, I can benefit from having some boundaries and self-discipline around my spending, which is why I'm still aiming for a no-buy (otherwise I tend to just create more and more loopholes for myself and don't get to learn what I need to learn), but if my accomplishment in the end is 'just' a low-buy, then I'm still improving and making changes.

Sometimes I feel frustrated that I go backwards and forwards so much on what I want to buy, how I want to dress and so forth - I can only imagine that it's just as frustrating for you to follow along! But I do try to be honest and accountable on this blog, and at least if there's another me out there who feels just as tangled up and confused by their shopping and spending habits, you can see that you're not the only one struggling to find a balance or sometimes making less-than-ideal decisions whilst you try to help yourself out of the rut. One thing I've really enjoyed since day one on this blog is being able to pull together all the things I've learned and all the resources that have helped and inspired me and kind of compile them in one place for anyone else who is on a similar path, hence the links I've started adding to the bottom of many of my newer posts.

However, the most frustrating thing of all is that after three years of trying to tackle this problem, I'm still overspending in my problem categories and - worse - I still feel like a shopping addict, just one who's come back a little bit from the brink of debt and financial collapse. 

I still have a lot of weird issues around my style, too. I think that with all the big changes in my life over the last few years and the difficult decade I had before that, I've really lost touch with my sense of identity and also my confidence. My fixation on 'fixing' my problems with style and shopping is just a symptom of that - it's the outside shell of the issue, the visible thing that I can take in hand and work on. It still feels to me as though I have to solve these issues before I can move on (to what, I don't know yet!). I've spent the last couple of years trying to override, ignore or suppress that feeling, which hasn't worked. 

So how did my attempt at a no-buy August pan out?

Week One

I found that I'm very strongly influenced by the content that I consume, more so than I realised. I spent a couple of days watching the same YouTubers I've been watching a lot lately (Gittemary, Christina Mychas, Malama Life), and found myself thinking that perhaps I could sell some of my more 'out there' stuff as I don't really wear it or know how to style it these days. Then a couple of days later I was reading the Voice of Nature blog and found myself wanting more flowy faerie clothes. This isn't really something I can avoid - even if I came offline, I suspect that TV, movies, books and even people around me are still exerting some kind of influence - so I think it's something I just need to be aware of, and if I've been consuming content a lot perhaps just assume that my thoughts are not entirely my own. Which sounds a little sinister when put like that. I have always been very susceptible to advertising so this doesn't particularly surprise me, it's just useful to keep in mind.

I was also able to use this susceptibility to my advantage by tweaking my media consumption to include more from people with a strong anticonsumerist perspective (I like ecofriend.Lia) and guided meditations, and otherwise cut back on the time I spend just browsing online. I found this really helped me to feel calmer, as well as more grateful and appreciative for all the things I already own.

Week Two

This was the week of our annual family holiday to Wales. There's nothing like quiet time in the company of the sea and the sky to put things in perspective. The heat was blistering and money tight, so most of our days were spent on the beach, shifting focus between the vast blue horizon and the minutiae of tiny starfish clinging to the rocks at low tide. 

The holiday was not without its, um, shopaholic moments - I asked Dai to drive me back into St David's after our initial visit so that I could buy an item of clothing I'd spotted, only to discover, once I managed to persuade him, that the item was out of stock in my size. I also had a bit of a wobble when my brother-in-law arrived with his beautiful, glamorous girlfriend. 

I dislike this comparison tendency that I still have. It's certainly not as pronounced or as constant as it used to be, but I've noticed that as I shop less I fixate less on comparing what I am wearing, which at least I could change, and instead compare things I can't particularly control, like my hair texture, my shape or my skin. This is pretty unhelpful and obviously something I still need to work on. 

Luckily, it turned out that a week of free thalassotherapy was exactly what the doctor ordered. I found that the confidence I gained after my firewalk continued to expand my comfort zone, as we adventured around the coast by kayak and stand-up paddleboard. I don't think I would have been brave enough to try these new things even a year ago, let alone dash into the sea in T-shirt and knickers as I did one evening when I was too sunburned to get my wetsuit on but still really, really wanted a swim.

I always find the Pembrokeshire trip to be an opportunity to reset, to reconsider my responsibilities, how I approach them, and what I can let go of. It also helps me, each and every time, to reconnect with my deep and abiding love for our beautiful planet, and to remember to see the world through my little one's eyes. 

Our eventual plan is to move to the Welsh coast - even the Spud asks regularly, "Mummy, me go sea now?" - and I am reminded anew to make this a priority when it comes to setting my budgets.

Week Three

The post-holiday blues hit hard, and this week was mostly bleugh. Still, I felt buoyed by having come this far without falling off the wagon. With no firewalks or sea swims making themselves immediately available, I shifted my focus back onto my study of Druidry, as I had been reminded how that particular way of connecting with nature and embracing enchantment in the everyday had thoroughly enriched my life. 

At this point I was seven weeks in to this iteration of the no-buy challenge, and I was starting to really experience the benefits. I felt steadier and more secure in myself, less subject to being caught up in online trends, and at peace and comfortable with the contents of my wardrobe. I'd stopped looking for the next thing I might purchase.

Week Four

Much to my surprise, I still hadn't really had any urges to break the ban. I had occasional dips in mood, but I found I could remedy these with any one of hundreds of activities available to me close to my home or via the magic of the internet: walking, cooking, visiting the library, journaling, guided meditations, qigong, breathwork, self-massage, wild swimming, even the odd bit of kundalini chanting when Dai wasn't around to hear me. I got a bit gung-ho about wellness and self-help and found myself charging into cold showers and smoothing my magnetic field. From the outside it possibly looked a bit nuts, and long-term I suspect the pick-and-mix approach could just become another form of consumerism, but it was fun, free and exciting. I was learning lots of new things, and new coping mechanisms for everyday stresses, as well as getting to know myself a bit better (on more levels than one. I was intrigued to find out that apparently the Door to Life resides in the lower back!).

At the end of the month, I felt much calmer and less anxious about shopping in general. My knuckles weren't white any more, and I could see myself continuing in this vein for a while longer. I could also, just about, conceive of a future where the occasional purchase was a joyful thing, neither a big deal nor an all-consuming urge.

Recent inspirations:

How to make good shopping decisions even though you have so many options and lots of feelings

Consumerism is keeping you broke! Here's how

Alternative Ethical/Sustainable Slow Fashion Brands Part One

I Bought No Clothes For Two Years - Here's What I Learnt

I'm going to be away for a couple of weeks - normal service will resume when I get back.

100th Post: What's Next?

So this is my 100th blog post on Katrina, Consumed! I must admit, it doesn't feel like I've been cranking out a weekly post for almost two years now (whaaat?). I never really had a plan in place for this little space on the web, and to be honest I still don't, but I really enjoy being able to discuss and delve into some of the thoughts and topics that have come up for me whilst I've been trying to get a grip on my shopping habit. I never expected to have so much to say about it, but I love being able to share with you (even the embarrassing and not-so-flattering moments), and I'm grateful to you for reading these words and for being here. Thank you!

After my successful No-Buy July, I feel buoyed up to take on the next challenge. I've completed several successful no-buy months now - but the full year remains elusive. However, knowing I can do a month at a time with very little difficulty has encouraged me to look at the challenge differently. I decided to tackle each month as its own entity - of course, completing twelve no-buy months in a row would equal one no-buy year, but even if I didn't succeed in that challenge, there were other wins I could achieve. Four no-buy months consecutively would be a new personal best, for example. Or if I managed to complete every other month, that would be an improvement over previous years and probably help me rein in my wayward annual expenditure.

Dai had suggested that in 2023, rather than aim for a full no-buy year, which he thinks is impossible for me, or aiming to spend half the previous year's totals, as I did this year, to set my budgets at 1/3 of this year's spend. That way, even if I go over budget like I did this year, my overall spend would still drop. I think this is a good mindset to go forward with, but having achieved that No-Buy July (and No-Buy August, I'll be talking about that next week) with relative ease, I'm tempted to see if I can carry on from here for as long as I can (breaking it into those one-month chunks). If I did complete the full year, I would then be able to shop again just in time for next year's Pembrokeshire trip, when I could stock up on any replacement items I might need from my favourite sustainable shop in St David's. Although, perhaps the fact that I'm already looking past the finish line to the next shopping opportunity is not the best sign...

Alternatively, I've started kicking around the idea of setting myself a small monthly budget next year for thrifted books and clothes or eco cosmetics, in keeping with the idea I read about of giving oneself a gift, and also because I'm feeling really good and a lot more confident than I have in a while, and I'm thinking I'd really like to experiment with different types of clothes, more skirts and dresses, different silhouettes from what I'm used to. I have a lot of loose fitting t-shirts, lots of jeans and patterned harem pants, but only a handful of skirts and dresses and few other styles of top. If I thrifted one or two pieces a month, I could try out some new things but still keep my annual budget wayyyyy down from what it was this year. I also really enjoy the uniqueness of the items you can find in second-hand shops, to my mind it's much more creative and playful to build a second-hand look than to just buy an outfit from a fast fashion store. Basically, I want to play!

I think probably my best bet is to carry on as I have been, taking it a month at a time and seeing how I feel and what I need (that's actual needs, as in when things are worn out or don't fit any more, not 'oh I need a treat'), and being creative with the things I already own.

I'm heartened by how well I've been doing - the biggest and most noticeable shift is that I haven't really felt like I've even been doing a shopping ban, my attention overall has just moved away from consuming. This has led me to start thinking about what else I can do next - I'm thinking about reducing our household waste, trying to eat more locally and sustainably, and learning more in general about greener living and changes we can make to be more eco-friendly, frugal and self-sufficient.

There is so much information out there about this already, so many different ways to try to be sustainable, and so many ways to fail at being sustainable, that it's really always felt a bit overwhelming up until now. We've made a few small changes as a family, but now I'm finally in a place (and I hate to link everything back to shopping, but I do think that untangling myself from that consumeristic mindset makes this a lot easier) where I can see what to do next. It's also helped that I've been following the work of sustainability influencers like Gittemarie Johansen, who stress effort over perfection, and practicality and realism over aesthetics, and also - simply put - aren't quite as intimidating as some of the zero waste hardliners I've come across before.

I appreciate that individual change, in and of itself, won't and can't change the world. But as a Pagan, and a person who loves the Earth, I feel like this is a path I need to continue to take to bring my way of living more in line with my beliefs and personal values.

It's also worth mentioning that I have seen great personal benefits since I started this journey in 2019 - trying to reduce my consumption has made me happier, calmer, more confident, it has helped me achieve some of my lifelong goals, and I honestly feel it has even positively affected my relationships and my health. Pausing my excessive consumption was like dropping a stone into the centre of a pond, and the ripples have spread outwards throughout my entire life and being. If the attempt to simply shop less can bring this much change, growth and joy, what fresh change might be wrought by working on some other areas of my consumption and lifestyle? I can't wait to find out.

In other news, it was my birthday this week (I am thirty-one, which seems a little ridiculous to be honest!).

Also, some more advance reviews for my book (The Anti-consumerist Druid, available for pre-order now from all the usual suspects) have been appearing around the internet (and readers of Pagan Dawn magazine may have recently seen my article The Anti-Consumerist Pagan in the Lammas issue, available here. It's a three-page spread, which I did a little happy dance about).

Publishers Weekly describe TACD as an "introspective debut": "Townsend’s trajectory from skeptic to believer makes this well suited for readers who might not be sold on paganism (she discusses her fear of “being too woo-woo”), and her discussion of how her druidism intersects with sustainable causes illustrates what the tradition has to offer modern practitioners. The result is a pensive pagan outing that will appeal to nonbelievers." Full review is here.

Saskia of Graveyard Picnic (who is also a DJ and therefore on my list of Very Cool People) says this: "Townsend’s writing style is inviting from the get-go. She comes across as friendly and non-judgmental and manages to dip her tales of woe into a healthy dose of humour. Her openness about not only the ups, but also the often overwhelming downs of her quest makes it virtually impossible not to sympathise with her. Despite the perhaps somewhat unconventional subject matter, there is nothing too woolly about Townsend’s prose. She comes across as delightfully down-to-earth and also provides insight into her own bouts of scepticism, making her all the more relatable." And also, "Townsend’s path may not be one-size-fits-all but it does offer far more nuance than your average self-help guide. It’s also a delightful read to boot." Full review here.

The release date for TACD is approaching fast; I can't wait to start seeing it on shelves!

Valhalla: A Walk Through Fire

At the very tail end of July, I went with Dai and the Spud to Valhalla Viking Festival, just for a day. Whilst booking the tickets, I'd done something slightly out of character and signed myself up to take part in a firewalking ceremony, which I then proceeded to be incredibly nervous about for the next few months. It felt like the next chapter in a series of occurrences which had started with my energy healing at Goddess House, as well as being something I could never have done even as recently as a year ago. I am very afraid of fire, but I am also devoted to a Goddess of the Forge, and I decided to place myself on her anvil and let her shape me as she would.

The festival itself was tremendous. The day was sunny and warm, and the location was fantastic. It was too hot for me to wear the slightly more historically-accurate outfit I'd originally planned, so I simply wore my favourite dungarees and kicked off my shoes to walk barefoot on the dusty grass. Our first priority was lunch; I enjoyed delicious fresh pizza in the shade of the woodland temple while the boys shared a burger. This was idyllic in itself - there were lights strung between the branches in the shade of the trees, which we could just see from where we sat on the outside, and when we finished our meal and ventured into the hushed interior, we discovered that the cardinal directions were marked by carved wooden statues of Norse gods and goddesses. 

Dai and the Spud quickly went off to play with axes while I had a peruse of the stalls. Some necklaces of amber beads caught my eye, but I tore myself away and we met up in the mead hall for some live folk music. The Spud wanted to get as close to the stage as possible to look at the instruments.

The day passed in a similarly laid-back manner. The people-watching was on point, the atmosphere was friendly. We spent a magical hour listening to a storyteller in the lantern-strung woodlands, and even the lively Spud was captivated by his tales of gods, giants, shapeshifters and trolls. I didn't break my no-buy; despite the abundance of stalls, there was so much to see and do that consumption didn't feel like a necessary entertainment.

Then at last the time came to proceed to the firewalking arena. There were about a hundred people taking part that day, and I felt a tremor of anxiety as I left Dai and the Spud outside the circle, watching. 

A sacred space was defined; as an Earth sign, I was told to find myself a space in the North quadrant. I had been seated a few moments, when a blue-haired elfin person in a linen tunic, Viking leg wraps and hand-forged spoon earrings sat down beside me with a friendly smile. We soon got to talking, and I forgot to be nervous. This was Jenna, who had come all the way from Sydney for the festival. Soon I also met Amelie, a striking presence in a long green dress and impressive armour, who bounced over to us exclaiming, "I love both your clothes!", and in between helping to build the fire, we chatted about cosplay, our favourite fantasy authors, and all kinds of other things.

I had intended to keep myself to myself, anticipating a meditative and solitary experience. But I figured that when the universe hands you kindred spirits during something you've built up in your head as a pivotal moment in your story, you should probably take the hint. 

Once the fire was lit, a circle was cast, and the ceremony began. During the calling of the quarters I could already feel the heat of the flames on my back. As the fire roared, we began by walking around the circle and acknowledging every person there, with a nod, a hello, a handshake, even a hug. I hadn't anticipated hugging strangers as part of my experience that day, but found myself surprisingly open to it. 

The next step was something that I had been particularly worried about for a while after seeing it mentioned online - an arrow-breaking ceremony. As the arrows were handed out we were encouraged to try to bend them between our palms - well, all that happened was that I got sore palms. We had the option to sit out, and honestly I did give it a thought, as I was pretty convinced I would be the one person who couldn't break my arrow, but in the end I stood in the queue with Jenna and Amelie.

At first, with the point of the arrow against the hollow at the base of my throat, I pushed as hard as I could, and it wouldn't bend, never mind break. I resigned myself, took one more deep breath, anticipated serious injury or at least great embarrassment, and walked into the damn arrow as hard as I could. I heard the snap like a gunshot before I registered what had happened.

The lead instructor recovered a piece of my splintered arrow from near the fire, and as he handed it to me, he said quietly, "That was powerful."

The firewalk.

After the arrow, I wasn't afraid. In fact I surprised myself by stepping forwards when they called for someone to go first, and in the end I was the second to set out across 600-degree coals. 

I'm not going to tell you too much about the sensation, in case you ever have the chance to experience it for yourself. The coolness of the dampened grass on the other side was almost startling. I felt like I could take on anything, anything at all.

They laid down more coals, made the pathway longer and wider. Jenna, Amelia and I queued together again and walked across on each other's heels, casting handfuls of oats into the still-burning fire as an offering.

On the third walk, we were invited to make our offerings to a lost loved one. My father's death still felt very recent. I made my offering to the fire, then had to step back and get my tears in check. We had been asked to be silent at this point, so I couldn't explain to my new friends why I was crying. They each offered me a hand, and we strode out on the longest walk yet, together. On the other side of the smouldering coals they both gave me a hug. Two kind, beautiful souls whom I was so grateful to meet. 

After the circle was closed, I went to find the Spud and Dai, and get a much-needed drink of water. The soles of my feet were peppered with black marks, but undamaged.

As someone whose thoughts recently have been very much concerned with concepts like personal style, I also had some unique takeaways from this experience and the day as a whole that may or may not resonate for anyone else.

Firstly, the variety of styles and goods for sale I saw throughout the day reminded me that I like and appreciate a lot of different things, which is why I have so much difficulty minimising my wardrobe or editing it down to a 'core style'. For the first time in a long time I was able to see this as something to be grateful for. I might not have a signature look, but I am able to gain a lot of pleasure from aesthetics and material things without limiting myself to one set of criteria.

Secondly, the people I saw and met showed me that there is a lot of scope for finding joy in your personal expression that goes above and beyond 'being stylish'. I met cosplayers, LARPers, historical reenactors, and people who either liked to dress up for festivals or just feel comfortable, and it reminded me that there is much more to dressing than trying to make your parameters as small as possible in order to define yourself. I realised that I'd recently been looking at clothes and dressing through quite a narrow lens as I tried yet again to 'find my style', and I went home feeling a sense of happiness and excitement about my fairly random wardrobe that I haven't felt in ages. Dressing is not just about encapsulating yourself at a given moment, it can also be about creating a character, creating a feeling, expressing a moment or connecting to something else (a sense of connection to your ancestors through the fabrics they wore, for example). 

In the weeks following the firewalk, I was aware of subtle changes in my thoughts and attitude. The day after, I came to a decision on something I'd been dithering about for years (more on which at some future point). When I found myself angsting over makeover shows, a calm voice in the back of my head said, this is just a racket to make you feel like what you already have isn't good enough.

I had proven to myself that I could be vulnerable and open, but I had also shown that I could be brave and strong. It changed slightly how I see myself and how I respond to the world, and I look forward to seeing where this new perception leads me. My broken arrow still sits on my altar. I am so thankful for the experience, to the instructors, to Dai for his support and encouragement, to my Goddess, and to Jenna and Amelie.