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?!

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

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!

My No-Buy July: A Belated Write-Up

July, it seemed, was a good month for those of us trying to buy less stuff. Frugalwoods was running the Uber Frugal Month (I've signed up for this so many times that I've memorised the emails, yet I still don't invest, and I haven't yet trusted myself with a credit card. Maybe next year. Why do I feel like there's this whole arena of adulthood associated with these kinds of financial decisions that I somehow don't feel ready for yet?). I also discovered a YouTuber, Christina Mychas, who was running a No-Buy July support group by email, and also has a Facebook group, Low Buy Beauties.

In July, our annual trip to Pembrokeshire was so close that I could almost smell the sea, and we were also starting to get excited about our trip to Shetland in October. Dai booked the overnight ferry at the beginning of July, and I was starting to realise, with considerable discomfort, that a 'big' holiday (we originally booked it to fall between my 30th birthday and Dai's 40th, but had to push it back a year due to covid uncertainties) would be something we could do far more regularly if I stopped spending so much money on other things.

My finances weren't looking great following my trip to Brighton with Alice. I hadn't emptied my piggy bank, but as a carer I'm on a low income, and it takes a while for the coffers to refill. I wasn't intending to spend a lot on either holiday, but it did remind me that it was time to have a look at how I was doing with my budgets.

Well, it wasn't good. When I added up the columns of numbers in the back of my journal, I learned that, seven months into the year, I was already over the budgets I'd set myself for cosmetics, books, and clothes. Clothing was the worst category - I'd nearly spent twice my annual budget, which meant, terrifyingly, that in seven months I'd nearly spent the same amount I spent throughout the whole of 2021. Not. Good. At all.

It was time for a bit of triage. I was on the waiting list for a commission from a slow fashion artisan I'd been admiring online for some time, and I contacted her to say I couldn't afford the piece right now, and would it be all right for me to get in touch in a few more months and go back on the bottom of the waiting list then. She was amazingly nice about it, and actually said that when I get back in touch I won't have to wait again, which was so kind. I also had a tattoo appointment booked in early September for a new large design on my left arm, but I knew I couldn't justify another three-figure spend, so I contacted my tattooist and cancelled the appointment. I did not enjoy doing these things, but I also would not have enjoyed finishing up the year with no cash cushion left in my account. The modern wisdom is 'treat yo'self', but without limits my spending was spiralling out of my control. Better to wait until I could afford these things without risk of crippling myself financially.

I was also still plugging away with Flylady, and our small house was looking so much better. Partly because it was cleaner (!), but also because we didn't have so much stuff squeezed where it didn't really fit. But then, reading back through my journal, I was quite alarmed to discover that apparently I had also had a 'big declutter' back in February. By July, I couldn't see the difference or remember a single thing I had gotten rid of only a few months ago, which freaked me out a bit! I took a quick inventory of my wardrobe, and was interested to find that my 63 t-shirts (as inventoried in 2019) had been reduced to a much more storage-space-friendly 25, yet even when I wracked my brain I could only think of five or six I had given to friends or donated. Where did the other 30-odd come from, and where did they go?!

This experience really confirmed to me that I am still not quite the mindful shopper I had convinced myself I was. I could do with being a lot stricter on myself when it comes to spending, and I think I'm doing the right thing by trying to get the most out of the items that I have so I don't constantly feel like I have to be seeking something more. It's a bit worrisome that so many pieces are still kind of just passing through - I do shop mainly second-hand nowadays, and I get a lot given to me from friends' clearouts, but if I don't want to be decluttering eternally I need to be MUCH more ruthless about what I bring into the house.

I decided to follow Mint Notion's Shop Your Closet challenge throughout July. It would challenge my ingrained consumer mindset - I'd noticed that when I picture myself doing this or that in the future, I imagine a fantasy wardrobe for myself and start planning what to buy, rather than figuring out appropriate outfits from the abundance I have already!

Week One

An easy week, shopping-wise. No temptations, no slips, no mistakes. I noticed that my usage of Instagram and Pinterest fell dramatically throughout the course of the week, which made me wonder how much the 'inspiration' I'm seeking actually translates to 'the next thing to buy'. 

This was also the week I had the brainwave of rearranging my clothes instead of decluttering any further. My winter gear was put away in under bed storage, and I moved my socks and bras from a drawer in my wardrobe into a small crate that sits in the wardrobe itself. Then I had enough room to vanquish the last of those plastic crates that have been living scattered around our bedroom. It's a great feeling and the room feels and looks so much better.

(Actually there are still a couple of boxes on my side of the bedroom. Those are my 'maybe' boxes, where I'm keeping those last few pieces that I haven't decided whether or not to let go of. Traditional wisdom holds that you should seal your maybe boxes and put them away for a few months, after which time you can declutter them guilt-free, but after reminding myself that I'm an aspiring environmentalist, not an aspiring minimalist, first and foremost, I've left the boxes open so that I can mix my maybe items into my outfits. Some of those items will still have to go - they just don't fit and aren't comfortable. Others might have ended up in the boxes simply because I was desperate to get rid of something, anything, to edge closer to the mythical capsule wardrobe of my fantasy self, and they might deserve another chance.)

I watched a lot more YouTube than usual during this week - I found that it kept me feeling positive about the challenge to hear from others who were doing/are doing a no-buy - it reminded me that I'm doing this to have more money for other things; that I'm not making a sacrifice, just changing my priorities. (I've linked some of my favourite videos at the bottom of this post, as well as some articles that kept me fired up!)

Week Two

Now that things were tidy and manageable I found myself quite naturally focusing on things other than my wardrobe. I'd been enjoying the Shop Your Closet challenge as it has encouraged me to try new combinations and wear those items that didn't see the light of day as much, but I now found myself deviating from the suggested outfits as I had so many ideas for combinations I wanted to try. But after getting dressed in the mornings, I noticed that I wasn't really thinking at all about clothes.

Instead I was cooking more and making some of our household staples from scratch (armed with The Planet-Friendly Kitchen by Karen Edwards). It was too hot to go out or do anything very active, but I made some headway into my To Be Read pile. I made some cash selling a few of my unwanted things through Facebook Marketplace, and I started getting up early to beat the heat so that I could start again with my yoga practice - I have an annoying tendency to stick with it just long enough to notice my strength and flexibility increasing, then slack off long enough to stiffen up again. Much like I do with shopping bans, actually! But not this time, I hope.

What I do with my time when I'm not on a shopping ban baffles me. Surely I can't just be spending hours a day browsing? I thought I'd broken that habit. And yet I suddenly seemed to have a lot more opportunity to do the things I was always too busy for. Odd!

Week Three

I really wasn't sure if I wanted to admit to this on the internet, but I had a horrible moment where I found myself crying behind my sunglasses on a busy high street because I felt horrendously self-conscious and ugly in my summer clothes. In hindsight I think the book I'd been reading that weekend had been a bit triggering for those faint eating disordered thoughts that sometimes still crop up in the back of my brain, and I was feeling a bit vulnerable. I just couldn't think of how to help myself past these painful feelings without either shopping or dieting, but I knew that neither would be helpful, especially not as a knee-jerk response.

I did eventually decide that I probably needed a bit of indulgence and self-care time, a morning routine that wasn't a quick wash-and-go, maybe even a bit of lipstick and a pair of high heels. I've mentioned before that I keep trying to do without 'frivolous style and beauty stuff' in the name of, I dunno, dedicating myself to being a more serious eco warrior (or something like that), and it has helped to see that my favourite sustainability influencers clearly love clothes and make-up and generally looking nice. This overload of crappy feelings really brought home to me that I actually need to carve out that time in my morning routine to let myself feel good about myself. 

I'm wary of coming to depend on make-up to feel acceptable like I did when I was younger, so I'm going to try not to overdo it but instead to find a balance. 

Week Four

Speaking of balance, I know that I've already spent too much in my 'problem' categories this year, so going forward I really don't want to spend too much more in 2022. But this week I started to have some some wobbles about what my next steps are going to be. Realistically, I don't know if a year without shopping is ever going to be a thing for me, and sometimes I wonder if that's even a sensible thing to aim for - this blog post about choosing low-buy over no-buy came into my orbit this week, and the writer makes a good case. 

Although I feel like 'giving myself a gift' every week might be a bit excessive and would definitely push those big holidays further out of reach, I can certainly see that, say, a monthly treat like a new face mask or a book or whatever could actually be really uplifting. But when I tried a low-buy year before, it went horribly wrong! Maybe now that I'm not shopping online so much, I could do it? Being able to still shop somewhat would also mean I could do some thrifting, which I have been keen to do more since I started watching Gittemary's channel.

I have actually started planning another trip with Alice for a few months' time - we're going to take the train to London in January or February, and we're planning to visit the flagship Waterstones bookstore in Piccadilly and browse the shops in Soho, as well as a bit of sightseeing. There's approximately a 0% chance that I will come home empty-handed after noodling around Beyond Retro, and I'm trying to channel my inner Gittemary and not feel guilty as long as the shopping is sustainable and doesn't bust my budget. The thing is that I still kind of want to be this hardline frugal mindful simplicity guru who doesn't care about style, doesn't go nuts for new zero waste and vegan skin care products, doesn't adore clothes, doesn't enjoy shopping as an activity, doesn't like going to the spa - but I'm not that person and I do love all of those things. I feel like it undermines my anticonsumerist Druid credibility, but I can't change myself - I have tried!

I can't decide if my end goal is to quit shopping altogether (except replacement items and the things I need to live!) or just to give it less overall room in my life, an occasional enjoyable activity rather than a complete obsession. People who've done a no-buy year tend to rave about it as life-changing, and I kind of want some of that! But I also want to not always be punishing myself...

This post is getting super long, but at the very tail end of July I went with Dai and the Spud to Valhalla Viking Festival, which I'll talk a bit more about in another post for the sake of brevity. But suffice to say I completed my no-buy successfully despite delicious temptations abounding. It was helpful to remind myself that there will always be something else to want, and I won't actually miss or regret the items I don't buy.

Inspiration:

Quit Fast Fashion in Your Twenties (applicable for any age, and funny as well as lots of smart advice on how to generally shop better!)

I stopped buying clothes and found my personal style

Zero Waste Without Minimalism? 

Un-Fashioning the Future

How I Overcame My Shopping Addiction

Rewilding in 2022: 2nd Progress Report - Touching the Wild

This season, I went vegetarian. I'd been kicking the idea around for a while, and my close friend Alice stopped eating meat after working in packing for an online food shop over Christmas and being slightly freaked out by the vast scale of naked, shrink-wrapped poultry she was faced with night after night. I'd tried to cut down my meat for a while, but found that, in a bid to prove to Dai that I wasn't 'depriving myself', the consequence was that I actually ended up eating more meat.

Then I took the Spud to visit some farm animals. The Spud has this real thing about sheep, and after a morning of watching him cuddle the lambs and brush their soft baby fleeces and feed them a milk bottle... Well, I was ruined for the Sunday roast, that was for sure. It's not been an easy adjustment in a mixed household where we generally all eat together, but I just can't eat meat any more, so we'll have to get to grips with it.

It could be argued that a vegetarian diet doesn't work well alongside a plan to rewild. Our ancestors, and many indigenous peoples around the world, of course eat meat, and any attempt to hark back to a less artificially complex, less industrialised lifestyle would surely involve some sustainable meat or game? I can see the logic in this argument, but even if I wanted to keep eating dead creatures for my own sensory pleasure, which I don't, we are also facing a looming climate crisis, and as an environmentalist I really can't justify personally eating meat either. So. There we go. I guess it's a modern, millennial kind of rewilding that I am doing here. But I'll take it!

Leena Norms has an absolutely fab, entirely non-judgemental, non-pushy video which sums up a lot of my reasoning around choosing this diet - here it is. 

One conflict I had this season was fairly laughable. In general we're not a daytime TV household, but I found that when I wanted to roll out my yoga mat in the morning, the best way to avoid being maimed by a toddler trying to "help" me into my poses was to flick Bluey on for half an hour. Except, when I then wanted to turn Bluey off again so we could get on with our day, all hell broke loose. Navigating the storms of tantrums and tears each morning made the yoga practice much less relaxing than it should have been (and the sound of Bluey and Bingo chirping away in the background was surprisingly hard to tune out during savasana), but I had noticed a difference in my strength and flexibility after only a few weeks of fairly disciplined home practice, and really wanted to keep going with it. Attempts to encourage the Spud into the garden or sandpit instead were met with dismissal on all but the sunniest of days. I'll let you know if I ever find a solution to this one!

On the topic of the garden, my feral approach to gardening was providing some interesting results. In the spring we discovered that our garden was full of bluebells, and I thanked my lucky stars that I hadn't just gone blundering in and weeded away everything in sight. It was also full of stinging nettles, but I was quite reluctant to pull those out, much to the confusion of visitors, as I had read that they're an important habitat for caterpillars and butterflies.

Our bird feeder had finally caught on amongst the local bird community, and we were welcoming blue tits, robins, blackbirds, and a variety of little brown guys that I'm not quick enough to tell apart. Unfortunately, the birds also ate our peas and beans, and the feeder also attracted a sleek, golden-brown rat, who at time of writing has taken up residence under our shed and can often be seen sitting beside our humane rat trap with what I'm certain is amusement. I know rats in the garden aren't ideal, but I'm reluctant to introduce poison into the environment, especially with my child around. It's also not the rat's fault we don't want it there, so we're persevering with humane traps and deterrents for now. We also have a resident hedgehog, which really surprised me as we live quite centrally in town and border a busy road. And a squirrel who races through the trees every morning as if commuting to work. 

Unfortunately we also have a large number of field mice, who set up camp in the house (and ate my husband's Easter eggs, much to his disappointment) - we tried catching them and releasing them far away, but they bred faster than we could trap them. Eventually we found ourselves adopting two lovely cats from someone who couldn't keep them any more. Dai mainly wanted a rodent deterrent, as sweeping up mouse poo is no one's idea of a good time. The Spud and I were excited to have family pets to stroke and fuss over. So everyone wins.

Social media has been my biggest bugbear lately. I've now got two different apps on my phone to try to help me manage my usage, and I find that I'm either turning them off, uninstalling them when they prove inconvenient, or simply opening social media in my tablet browser. This is such a big step backwards and I'm really not enjoying it. I don't want to be the kind of person who chooses their destinations by what will make the best photo. I don't like courting followers, and in all honesty I'm slightly alarmed by my propensity for oversharing. A lot of my close friends have recently stopped using Facebook and Instagram, just as I'm probably the most active I've ever been, and I'm steeling myself to follow their example. I might lose followers. I might lose book sales. But if I carry on on this trajectory, I feel I'm losing a lot more than that.

It's not all bad news though. The defining event of this season for me was my long-anticipated wedding. It was a glorious day, made even more special by the people who came together to share the celebration with us, and on a very personal note it was really the first time I was able to see how far I've come since starting this blog. I never realised that reducing my consumption was going to be a personal development project more than a financial one, and yet over the last couple of years my confidence has skyrocketed. I've learned that no one is watching and judging me because everyone is busy judging and monitoring themselves. I've learned that perfection is overrated and boring. And I'm lucky enough to be surrounded and loved by people who are supportive, open, free-spirited and kind. 

When I realised I couldn't dance in my wedding gown I changed into a vest top and harem pants. My bra had carved red divots around my ribcage, so I decided 'sod it' and took it off. I then spent the evening dancing with my friends, or by myself, without fear or self-consciousness. At one point, on my way to the toilets, I heard the throb of music from up a flight of stairs and followed it to find a live band in the building next door, where I danced with strangers on a floor strewn with golden stars.

On the weekend of our wedding, I walked barefoot on new territory. I worked a lock on the canal. I stood atop a long barrow and felt the wind stream through my hair. I saw my friends' faces bathed in firelight; I felt the prick of bird claws on my hands and legs; I drank mead with Druids; did yoga in a yurt; danced the Macarena with a flock of Goths.

I have tasted the wild. I have found the bigger life that waited on the other side of my inhibitions. 

Dai's interest in history has helped me widen my horizons, connect to the landscape, and begin to see my home country in new ways. Parenthood has changed my sense of self and taught me the breadth and depth of my endurance and strength. Growing older has taught me about seizing the moment and forging memories with those we love. Trying to reduce my consumption has led me to an animistic worldview and re-engaged my creativity.

Now that I have touched the edges of the kind of life I want to be living, I am more determined than ever to get there. I love the person I am becoming, and I am so excited to see what comes next.

Inspirational reads this season:

Strong, Calm and Free by Nicola Jane Hobbs

Dandelion Hunter by Rebecca Lerner

Going Zero by Kate Hughes

Sustainable Minimalism by Stephanie Marie Seferian

The Planet-Friendly Kitchen by Karen Edwards

A Dream Told Me To Go Shopping

I broke my shopping ban.

And so, the endlessly frustrating cycle continues. 

I bought two summery crop tops from a sustainable fashion stall at a local vegan market. In my defense, the Spud had uncharacteristically been a complete hellion the entire morning and I was nearly at my wits' end - I can see why I succumbed to the little voice in the back of my brain whispering, "Go on, you need a treat, those colours are so pretty, you hardly have any summer tops..."

The second incident was actually on my wedding night. I had wandered into the pub next door where a band was playing. I immediately loved their vibe and when the set finished I stopped to chat with them over a suitcase full of merch. I bought an album and a top with the band name and logo on (it's a primrose yellow tube top, which is slightly out of my comfort zone, so I did make a point of wearing it the next day). 

I think that kind of opened the floodgates, because over the next couple of days I bought another T-shirt and a pair of majestic tasselled earrings. Then at full moon I had a bit of a Vinted and Etsy splurge, which isn't quite as bad as it sounds - most of my purchases were things I'd bookmarked months ago, or necessary items, such as a water- and windproof jacket for our trip to Shetland in the autumn.

But, realistically, looking ahead to the medieval market we were planning to visit the next weekend, my upcoming trip to Brighton with my best friend, and the annual delights of our trip to St David's, I had to accept that my incredible restraint in Glastonbury was starting to look like a one-off. I decided instead to write myself a shopping list of things I wanted and/or needed, and channel myself into hunting the exact right things rather than risking the scattershot approach. In between those three dates I determined to stop browsing anywhere else, and after St David's I would have one Absolute Last Damn Try at the no-buy challenge.

Except it kind of didn't work that way, but hear me out. A couple of nights before the medieval market, I had a dream about an item of clothing I used to have, but had charity shopped and then regretted during my 'must be invisible' clearout. I've tried and failed to find the same item a few times over the years - it was mass-produced, but it's no longer manufactured and hasn't turned up on eBay.

When we got to the market we took a detour to find a public convenience, and found a handful of stalls outside the market grounds which we might not have otherwise noticed. And I saw this item hanging from the back of one of the stalls! I rushed over and grabbed it immediately. It was my size, and the only one left. And half the price I'd originally paid. 

Now I know the more practical-minded among you will be rolling your eyes at me reading anything into this. So I will simply say that the day after the market I had a coffee and a chat with one of my best friends. Alice has had her own issues with money and with shopping over the years, so I felt comfortable to explain that I wanted to be really thoughtful and careful about my purchases on our Brighton trip - but that, despite everything I've said, done and learned in the last three years, I did want to shop. 

It was a relief to talk (not write) about this so openly with her - she actually mentioned first that she wanted to make good choices and focus on needful things, which made me feel a lot calmer, knowing that on this trip I would have someone in the same boat with me!

Alice has always loved beautiful, unusual clothing - vintage, goth, and hippie styles being some of her favourites over the years -  but until fairly recently, she has bought her favourite items in sizes that don't fit, hoping to change her body. I was so pleased and proud when she cleared out this second 'aspirational' wardrobe and started buying the clothes she really wanted to wear for the body she has right now. At times her enthusiastic shopping has bordered on the alarming, and like me she has gone too far on some occasions, but as her friend it's been fantastic to watch her blossom as she expresses herself more and more. 

I've been so adamant that shopping is never the answer that it took me a while to realise that it's really been beneficial for Alice at this time. It's been amazing to see her confidence grow as she discovers and refines her style(s). Similarly, by and large the purchases and ban breaks I have made over the last couple of years have, in all honesty, given me so much joy (once the guilt of the actual purchase fades!). After years of stifling - variously - my preferences, my needs, or my interests, I really feel like I've started to come out of my shell. Some of the things I've worn, not to mention the things I've been able to do or take part in, this year in particular, are things I would have been too nervous or self-conscious to even contemplate a couple of years ago. I feel like I'm at a point of trying to really honour and celebrate my truest self, and as shallow as it sounds to admit to this, some of this change has been due to allowing myself to dress up a bit more, to enjoy clothes and make-up again.

The opposite is also true - I never would have gotten to this point without taking time out from shopping to renew my connection with nature, to get more comfortable in my own skin, and to redefine and embrace what is most important to me. But as with all things, it seems to be a question of finding the balance. 

Don't get me wrong - my end goal with this personal project is still to quit shopping, and develop a more self-sufficient, eco-friendly lifestyle. But I'm starting to think that my instinct at the beginning of this year - not to run a ban in 2022, to give myself some time without restrictions in place - was good instinct.

Maybe you will think I am making excuses or lapsing back into old ways. But I think I want to let go and trust myself for a while longer. At the medieval market, I got worried and thought I had really overspent. But when I sat down afterwards and looked at the numbers, I had bought only a few things, spent less than I thought and within sensible limits. I had bought only one thing not on my shopping list, which was the item from my dream. The items I chose were versatile, and all one-of-a-kind items made by individual artisans. Would buying nothing have actually been a better choice?

I think I want to give myself, for the remainder of this year, the gift of trust, as well as the gift of allowing myself to create the beautiful, unique, somewhat chamaeleonic, mostly thrifted wardrobe of my imaginings. Again, perhaps this is just an excuse - although it doesn't feel like it - but I think it might be easier in the future to attempt and actually complete a one-year shopping ban, if I'm starting from a point where my collection of clothing - however big or small - is representative of the person I feel I am inside. 

I do have some misgivings - I've expressly said in the past that there is no point when my wardrobe will be 'finished', and I know that there will always be temptations, but I hope that I will learn to find that point of balance and know when enough is enough. I no longer need to fit in at school, to fit into various subcultures, to impress partners or peers, or to create a certain kind of image on social media. I kind of want to give myself the freedom to enjoy the things I enjoy, before the cost of living rises to a point that I can't afford these luxuries any more.

For the first time in a very long time I feel like I'm nearly there - at last I understand how to choose, how to provide myself just enough - but not too much - variety that I can be playful and creative but not stressed or overwhelmed, what I really will wear, what feels good to wear, what makes me happy (regardless of whether it's flattering), how to appreciate and enjoy those jeans and T-shirt days as much as my dressed-up-fancy days and feel just as good about myself either way. 

I really hope I'm not deluding myself. I don't feel like I am. 

No-Buy: A Weekend in Glastonbury

Hey guys! I'm feeling pretty positive on this current incarnation of my shopping ban, and I've surprised myself a couple of times so far.

My first weekend on the shopping ban was actually a really big challenge, as we spent two nights in Glastonbury, which is chock full of temptation for me. When we originally planned the trip I confess I'd been looking forward to a Glastonbury visit with no shopping ban in place, but as the time came closer I could feel myself getting worried and uncomfortable. The thing is, I've been on so many big blow-out spending sprees over the years, I know what the aftermath is like, how long it takes me to get back on my feet financially if I overdo it, how guilty I feel having to shovel everything in my wardrobe to one side to make room for new. The high doesn't last. The repercussions do. 

All that said, there was of course still a part of me that wanted to shop. It's the same part of me who compares myself to other people, who wants to be noticed for the way I dress, for whom no wardrobe ever feels like enough because there's always this underlying sense of lack. But I know now that if I stop shopping for long enough, that feeling of something missing mysteriously dwindles away. It's imaginary.

I rocked up at Glastonbury's big Medieval Fayre feeling trepidatious. In all honesty I hadn't been able to decide how I wanted to handle this, and I spent the first hour or so on tenterhooks, waiting to feel those pangs of want!, for my contactless card to start flashing about. But that's not how it went. I looked at everything on the market. There was a necklace I liked. I couldn't afford it, so I didn't buy it. I had a cup of nettle cordial. It was pale pink and delicious. I started to relax.

We watched a joust. Dai tried his hand at axe throwing. We sampled lots of free mead. I was so bowled over by my absolute lack of desire to buy all the things that I ended up almost in a daze. Eventually I bought a blackberry lip balm for £3 and had two sparkly hair extensions put in for £1 each. Perhaps it would be more impressive if I'd stuck absolutely and totally to the letter of the ban, but I really feel like this was a big achievement for me and I'm happy with it. It didn't even take a huge massive effort not to buy piles of clothes and accessories. It didn't feel like any kind of sacrifice at all.

The people-watching, which is always on another level in Glastonbury, reminded me that I do love beautiful things and unique styles. But ironically, hiking backwards and forwards across town carrying a tired three-year-old also reminded me why I like to keep my look fairly low maintenance nowadays. I'm not afraid to try new looks and get a bit weird with it - my makeup over the weekend ranged from the full face with flicky eyeliner to nothing whatsoever to smearing some bio-glitter under my eyes and calling it a day - but I'm tired of worrying about what other people think of me. If I want to wear an antlered headdress or a flower crown then I will - but at other times I'm a shoeless scruff with mud under my nails or salt in my hair, and it's hardly photogenic but I'm done competing for the Best Dressed Weirdo Imaginary Award.

On our last day we took a walk around the shops. I love seeing displays and all the unusual things for sale, I'm still not the perfect anti-consumerist, but in all honesty there wasn't much I actually wanted to buy. I got some new candles for my altar and three books. Again, not perfect in ban terms, but for a whole day spent walking around shops filled with my every woo-woo hippie desire, I decided to cut myself some slack. Mostly I just enjoyed the sunshine and walking around with the Spud, watching the people and smelling the incense. It's quite nice that my days out no longer come with the sickly desperate feeling that accompanies spending hundreds of pounds on a whim. I'm so proud of myself for not buying clothes, I can't even tell you. (However, I am now over the book budget I set myself at the beginning of the year, so it'll be cold turkey for me from this point onwards!) 

A sidenote: I didn't actually tell Dai that I was doing another shopping ban, which I guess is a bit weird of me. I think where historically I have failed a lot at these things I wanted to see if I was going to actually stick to it before making any grand announcements. And sometimes it's easier to crack on with things if people aren't watching you and analysing your odd behaviour. Plus, around the time I started this ban I was also transitioning to vegetarianism, which had kind of unsettled Dai, as we have previously enjoyed his roast dinners or steaks together on many an evening. I suppose I didn't want him to think I was gratuitously punishing myself. (As an adult I've mainly been vegetarian or vegan; when my last long-term relationship ended I also started eating meat (several close friendships also blew up in a big way around this time - in hindsight it was possibly some kind of breakdown, let's gently gloss over that), and was still doing so when I met Dai. But I'm not comfortable with it for ethical and environmental reasons and it feels like a weight off my shoulders to just not. Dai worries about this because of my history with disordered eating, but I don't connect vegetarianism with disordered eating at all, it's not about weight or restriction in any way for me, I just don't want to eat animals.)

Overall throughout my first week I felt really good about the challenge. All the things I relished about the experience the first time around came flooding back, as I found myself less distracted, less self-conscious, more present. I found that when the urge to improve myself by making purchases came bubbling up, as it sometimes does, a bit of experimentation with make-up or a creative change of outfit could generally assuage it without difficulty. I felt more clearheaded, able to see items in shops as analogues of items I already have - oh, a necklace? I have necklaces already - rather than things I needed to accumulate to be whole.

My New No-Buy Year

At the end of April this year I could feel myself spiralling back into old behaviours. I was checking Instagram dozens of times a day even though it reliably made me feel crappy, browsing Pinterest, hitting up Vinted again and again for that 'one last thing' I needed. My rewilding project for the year was going out of the window, and the Spud and I seemed to have started watching daytime telly, which historically I'd always avoided. 

At last I decided it was time to break the cycle before its grip on me could tighten any further. I was actually feeling nostalgic for my previous shopping bans. They had been challenging and difficult, but my life had felt fuller. I'd made more things, talked more to my friends, learned to cook, turned my journals into a memoir. 

I'd been so adamant that I wasn't going to ban myself from anything in 2022, but I could sense that the progress I'd worked hard to make was in danger of coming undone. Then I watched these two videos from Hannah Louise Poston, which really clinched it for me:

This video really hit hard for me. The way she describes "wanting to want", always looking for a new item to obsess over, using shopping as a kind of palliative faux self-care to paper over the cracks - that's me. And a lot of other people I know, actually. 

One thing I've learned from being open about my struggles with compulsive shopping is that most of us in this late-stage capitalist society are screwed up in one way or another about shopping. Older generations would probably consider my age group greedy or spoiled, which - to be blunt - we are, compared to the people who have to actually manufacture the stuff we buy. But we're also deeply conditioned to behave in this way by the society we live in, as Poston says in her video.

I've had some really interesting conversations with friends since starting my shopping ban, which have convinced me that the majority of us are completely screwed up about some combination of the following: money management, self-image, self-worth, compulsive buying, the gap between our values and behaviours (e.g. we know about sweatshops but can't give up the Primark habit), and many more issues swirling around the money/shopping vortex. 

I've spoken with friends who thought of shopping problems as a women's thing until they compulsively spent hundreds of pounds on kitchen equipment and then looked a little closer at their own habits. Friends who earn good money but have burned through it all before the next payday and had to rely on colleagues to bring in lunches for them. Friends who received a large payout and spent the lot without noticing because they are too edgy about money to ever look at their bank statements. Some who have multiple kitchen appliances stashed in their garages because the first three didn't quite match their colour scheme. Who describe themselves as broke and are always worried about the bills, but still make time for a weekly manicure and can never have enough cosmetics. 

I started my no-buy year thinking that my shopping was disastrous and everyone else was living within their means. I'm coming to understand that there are loads of people who really, really, don't have a handle on this shit, and in fact it's totally normalised and even encouraged by our culture. I'd been hearing myself for years making excuses for why I needed the most frivolous of items when I knew I couldn't afford them, and somehow I'd never noticed I was surrounded by other people doing the same. I know that some of those people read this blog, and I wish I could persuade them to go on this new shopping ban adventure with me, but I guess it's one of those things that you have to choose for yourself when you're ready. (But I'd love a ban buddy or even group, hit me up if you want to give it a go.)

I really love Poston's list of things to do that aren't shopping, and again this was a big factor in why I decided to give the no-shopping year another try - I was doing these things, and I was loving it. I was getting so much more value from what I already owned, I was feeling good about myself, I was learning new skills and having a really good time. I was being more creative than I have been in years. Then I started to slide back into the social-media-and-shopping life, and those activities started to gather dust once again.

I wanted to think harder this time about what rules I'm going to put in place, because as per the video, I know there are times when it will be harder for me to stick to my rules. Last time I gave up social media cold turkey, which I think made it easier for me to keep a clear head, but this time I probably can't do that - at least not until after my book launch - so I'll need to think really hard about when and how I use it, as well as what I do immediately afterwards. 

Holidays and days out are also huge weak points for me. I find it really hard not to think of trips primarily as shopping opportunities, so I need to get some guidelines in place for how I'll handle these - whether I'll allow some purchases, or go cold turkey. I also have a day out planned that is specifically a shopping trip with some girlfriends, but I know I'm already overdoing it with clothes, so I may choose to focus more on the beaches-and-cafes aspects of that trip, or make a list of items I could possibly buy (I have loads of jumpers but not many summer tops or dresses, for example). I can't decide how tough on myself to be this time around, so feel free to weigh in with your thoughts.

Meanwhile, I hope you find these videos as interesting and inspiring as I did! I'll let you know how things pan out this time around...

My Clothes Don't Define Me

Recently I started feeling annoyed at the amount of time I have spent thinking about my clothes. How many hours I've wasted on Pinterest trying to build a blueprint for the look I really want. I've tried to use my wardrobe to express and to define my essential self, even when I didn't really know who that self was. It's been enjoyable at times, but at others deeply frustrating, as I've learned that clothes, on their own, don't make a personality. I've treated 'the wardrobe issue' as a problem to be solved before anything else. I'll write this book once I've sorted out the wardrobe issue. I'll be an artist once I look artsy enough. Everything the wrong way around, as I try to make my clothes speak for me, to define the limits of my character and interests with exactly the right garments.

Pinterest is a time eater and no mistake. Five more minutes quickly turns into an hour of blankly browsing through other people's faces and outfits. This is not the way I want to spend my life.

However, much to my surprise, I learned through Pinterest that I love what the kids are doing with fashion these days. If styles like fairy grunge, goblincore, cottagecore, adventurecore, earthcore and dark academia had been around when I was a confused ex-goth looking for new ways to express myself, I would have had such a good time trying all these out and rummaging through the charity shops for new pieces. The little gremlin voice in the back of my head (I call him Keith - go away, Keith) tells me I'm too old for goblincore, but I remind it that I've been into these aesthetics since 90s styles were 'in' the first time around. (I'm glad 90s clothes are back. I liked them then, I like them now. I just wish the bigger sizes would start making their way into second-hand shops. Mumma wants some baggy jeans please kids.)

When I was a teenager, there were really strongly drawn lines between subcultures and the mainstream culture. You were a 'chav' (or 'townies' as we called them where I grew up) or a goth or emo, and that was pretty much the entirety of your options. Whichever box you fitted into, you were supposed to hate everyone in the other. Nowadays, as far as I can see, the boundaries between what is mainstream and what is alternative seen to be much more fluid. There's a lot more scope for individual expression, and even in my small town I have noticed much more variety in everything from outfits to hair colour. Is fairy grunge alternative or mainstream? Do these distinctions still hold relevance?

I've spoken before about what it means nowadays to be 'alternative', which I think has changed a lot since I was young. I still have friends who feel very strongly about their allegiance to alternative subcultures (and one or two who refer to people outside their particular scene as 'normals', which makes me cringe), but I do wonder exactly how alternative it is to simply shop on different websites - Attitude instead of SHEIN, Killstar instead of New Look. I wonder if now, having radical politics, building a style from sustainable, ethical or second-hand clothing, or choosing a lifestyle such as veganism or going off-grid is perhaps more alternative, in this era of clothing abundance and tolerance for bright hair and body modifications, than choosing to belong to a subculture. How much are we actually defined by our clothes these days, now that most of us in the global North can buy anything from anywhere and adopt any style as fast as it can be shipped out to us? Is darning your socks a greater challenge to popular culture than wearing nothing but black?

(Brief tangent: Gothic Charm School, a blog I followed avidly back in the day and still enjoy, recently-ish touched on the white, pretty, thin homogeny that has become the image of goth on social media. I noticed this myself when I browsed #goth on Instagram for some outfit inspiration, and was both disappointed and unsettled by it. The blog post is here if you are interested, and I LOVED reading all the comments as well, being reminded of what it was about the goth scene that spoke to me in the first place and causes me to linger forevermore around the outskirts of all things dark and spooky.)

If the sheer vast size of the clothing industry has caused even alternative fashion to lose its meaning, why are we still so obsessed with fashion? Perhaps more so than ever before? Will supply and demand ever hit a ceiling, or will it keep forever growing until we abruptly discover we can't actually live on shoes? (Eating a pair of leather shoes will keep you alive for about a week, according to a book of facts I read once, but it'll be a horrible week, I'd imagine.)

At the other end of the spectrum, I have been increasingly alienated from my friends who enjoy wearing trendy clothes and keeping up with what's fashionable. I'm the awkward lurker in the group chat when the girls are discussing L'Oreal foundation and new dresses from SHEIN. Do I weigh in and talk about animal cruelty and sweatshop labour? Sometimes, yeah. And everyone says, yeah, wow, that's terrible, the atmosphere gets a bit stilted for a minute, and then we all go right back to doing what we were doing before. I don't want to constantly be a downer - that person who only pops up in the chat to tell you why you're wrong, yikes - but I also don't have anything much else to contribute. I was genuinely surprised at a friend's house when she received several parcels from Boohoo. In the little bubble I've created for myself since I started writing this blog, I'd kind of assumed that since we learned Boohoo use modern slavery to make their products, people would have just stopped shopping there.

After that visit, during which my friend tried on several stylish Boohoo dresses to choose an outfit for a wedding, I found I was really missing the particular feeling of cheap, abundant fashion. The haul. When you buy more than you need, just to try it, because it's so cheap. I used to run around Primark just throwing things into my basket. I didn't ever expect to miss that feeling, because I know full well that it's a signifier of exactly what's wrong with the fashion industry. But there I was anyway. Luckily I had a brainwave - I downloaded the second-hand shopping app Vinted, and spent an afternoon using up all my data browsing fast fashion that other people didn't want. I bought four items for £20 and felt sated.

This post has rambled around a lot, which is a not-inaccurate portrayal of how it feels in my head when I think about my wardrobe. I even have strange, nostalgia-tinged, longing dreams about dressing up in miniskirts and fishnets, my pre-baby body miraculously restored. I enjoy the ease of casual clothes, but miss the admiration from more complex, unusual looks. I also realised recently that I am more affected by body image issues than I thought, which is why I feel uncomfortable and awkward when I do dress up - I feel like I'm too chubby and un-pretty to be able to pull off those looks any more.

I really need to get my head together. I can see that I'm still giving clothes way too much importance, and trying to make them define me when they don't, and can't. That's not what they're for. 

The Dark Side of Decluttering

I swing back and forth on the subject of decluttering like a pendulum. This is another area where I've had to accept that my opinions and behaviour might differ from the prevailing tides amongst society in general, and also my friends.

Firstly let me say that I can understand why we declutter. It is certainly easier to maintain and manage a household that is not so filled with miscellaneous stuff. I live with two people who are in general less bothered by mess than I am (one of them is three, and doesn't actually realise that toys all over the floor constitute 'a mess' to other people) - Dai can sit and relax in an untidy room, which I find very difficult nowadays. I'm not a very tidy person, and I don't want to live in a show home, but sometimes things do get embarrassingly out of hand.

The other positive aspect of decluttering is of course mental - when you've had stuff piled up on your surfaces and in your cupboards (and That One Room that you're always going to get around to sorting), it's a huge relief, and greatly satisfying, to let it all go.

However, where I personally get stuck is that I see getting rid of stuff consistently described as positive, always positive. But actually, I don't think that constantly shedding possessions is a positive thing at all. It's a waste. Not of your money - those costs are sunk - but of the materials and energy that went into your stuff (our stuff). Since reading The Story of Stuff, I've really become aware that everything has been made somewhere, using somebody's resources, and it all piles up somewhere else when we, the privileged, decide that owning it has become a burden. The burden doesn't go away. We just push it off onto someone else's shoulders.

I'm not saying you should keep every single thing you've ever bought or been given. But I think we could take far more responsibility when we do get rid of stuff, and be more thoughtful in how we do so, rather than the standard procedure of dump-and-run at the charity shop or tip. The amount of fly-tipping of household goods that occurred during lockdown shows how burdened we feel by our vast array of possessions, but also how little we care for them, for the environment, or for each other. 

I've been following a lot of menders and makers on Instagram, and it's really got me looking at everything as a resource - one worn-out pair of jeans can be used to patch the next pair. I'm really excited about visible mending, it's something I want to get much more into. (I've also been looking at companies who make made-to-measure clothing out of recycled textiles, and giving serious thought to having my childhood character bedsheets lined and made into a crop top and pencil skirt set.) 

My other bugbear about decluttering is that not many people seem to talk about the flip side - buying less. Instead there are loads of people who have an annual 'big clearout', and then seem to immediately set about refilling their houses and closets again. Even if they actually intended to try minimalism. Obviously big business is loving this, but it's not doing anyone else any favours. I do eventually want to own much less stuff, but I've kind of resigned myself to getting there very slowly, when the things I use and cherish eventually wear completely out or break beyond repair. To my mind, buying less is a more important choice - for peace of mind, for sustainability, for putting a middle finger up to corporate capitalism - than finally getting around to clearing out your spare room.

Of course, I have to admit here that I'm biased, because I am very bad at decluttering. Not the actual getting rid of stuff, I'm pretty good at that. Mainly I'm terrible at decluttering because of regret. This year I have asked a friend to post back to me a shirt that I gave her (yes, I felt like a dickhead), and bought a t-shirt on eBay identical to another I'd cleared out. I'm also giving serious thought to buying some of my own clothes back from Thrift+. Which is deeply tragic. I'm pretty sure at this point that jumping aboard the decluttering train is not going to be for me. I get on much better when I accept that my clothes are my clothes, and try to wring every last drop of use and enjoyment from them, than always having half an eye on what I can next discard and replace with something else. Not treating everything as replaceable.

Some of my favourite menders:

@gatherwhatspills

@logoremoval

@mindful_mending

@visiblemend

@wrenbirdmends

@katrinarodabaugh 

Toxic Femininity

Not long ago I met up with my bridesmaids - six of my dearest friends - for morning coffee. Socialising with other women post-lockdown has been a bit of an eye-opener for me - embarrassingly, I had kind of forgotten that not everyone has been in the same echo chamber as me, worrying about climate change and learning how to cut down their consumption. Actually, I kind of completely forgot that lots of people aren't generally thinking about their consumption as problematic (whether it is or isn't, which of course is not for me to decide, although I would suggest that all of us in the global North perhaps need to think twice about our normalised habits) or obsessing over ethical fashion and cosmetics, and had to work at not pulling a disapproving-grandma face any time anyone mentioned PrettyLittleThing or L'Oreal.

What I have been working on, however, is being more open and honest about stuff (hopefully in a gentle way), so at one point I did find myself saying to two of my particularly glamorous friends - one of whom I haven't seen without make-up and impeccably coiffed hair since we were in primary school, and one of whom I have never seen without the whole arsenal of femininity in play - that I'm amazed by how they do it with two children apiece when I find it a challenge to shave my legs with any kind of regularity, let alone find the time for flicky eyeliner, and I wished I could ever manage to be as groomed.

Once they'd finished laughing at me, they told me two things: firstly, that skinny jeans can be hiding all sorts of things, so even the most fabulously turned out woman might possibly have not got around to shaving for three months, and apparently this is pretty normal. 

Secondly - and here one of my very oldest friends flicked her elegantly curled, highlighted hair, looked me dead in the eye, and said, "Well, I wish I didn't feel like I have to bother with all this -" she waved a hand to indicate her make-up and curls "- just to feel like I can leave the house. I wish I could be more carefree. I feel like other girls who don't wear make-up all the time are way more comfortable in their skin than I am. This is what I have to do just to feel acceptable, and I love it when I can get home and take my make-up off so I can rub my eyes without smooshing my mascara all over the place."

Okay. So that was me told. I was kind of stunned, to be honest. How had I managed to angst about my girl envy all this time without ever considering things from the other side of the fence?

Another thing we talked about a little bit - perhaps inevitably - was weight. I guess out of the seven of us, probably three or four are on a diet at any given time. Even I bought a scale this year, but I'm going to talk about that whole mess in another post. Suffice to say for now that eventually I had to sit down and re-read Just Eat It, and that while I was doing so I suddenly realised that the way a lot of women feel about their weight and looks - not good enough, must constantly improve - is also how I very often feel about the way I dress and the things I own.

What diet culture and consumer culture have in common is simply this: it's about control. When you fall too far into these twin traps, your thoughts are forever rattling around the same hamster wheel: what should you eat, how do you look, what should you wear, what should you buy. When you walk into a room, or down the high street, you automatically and semi-consciously rank yourself against other women - who's the thinnest, prettiest, best-dressed? 

More and more of us now are becoming aware of the toxic and damaging messages of diet culture, but I haven't often seen it linked to the parallel trap of overconsumption. Yet to my mind the insidious connections are obvious - people with low self-esteem are far more likely to spend more, not just on gyms, diet foods, supplements and all the other accoutrements peddled by the nutribollocks industry and its influencer poster children, but also on clothes (to conceal, to sculpt, to flatter, to commiserate, to aspire to), cosmetics, treatments and surgeries. Treat yo'self - self-love can be yours, right now, for this one-off bargain price of the cost of bath bombs, crystals, candles, lingerie, gym gear, hair dye, new nails, fake tan, gym membership, microblading, laser hair removal and a plant-based wellness spa retreat in the heart of the Cotswolds. 

I feel like this weird self-hating soup of diet culture, overconsumption and influencer culture is to women and femme-presenting people as toxic masculinity is to men. Things we might otherwise enjoy for their own sake (clothes, fashion, beauty, movement, food) become tainted by this bizarre set of rules for how we are 'supposed' to look (exist).

Stay in your box. Keep your attention fixed on the way you look. Build your brand. Get thin. Get thicc. Get strong. Get noticed. Be different, but also accessible. Be relatable, but also better. Have the right kind of eyebrows. Suck your stomach in. A little bit of FaceTune never hurt anyone. So authentic (#ad). It's not a diet, it's a lifestyle change.  Don't rest on your laurels. Don't rest, period. Don't consider being content - there's always something else you can tone, sculpt, tweak, improve, buy, buy, buy. 

It's all the same trap.

Imagine: if being a woman wasn't a secret competition to be the best woman.

Imagine: feeling content. With what you have. With who you are.

Imagine: if you took the time you put into beauty routines and wardrobe overhauls and decluttering and shopping and diets and faux wellness and used it instead to rest and recharge. 

If you could walk into a room without a) picturing how you looked walking into the room and b) immediately ranking yourself against everyone there.

What your social life would look like if no one was worried about their body, their skin, their clothes, their hair. 

If we re-framed self-esteem as something you build, not something you buy, and made it contingent on something other than looks or wealth.

If we stopped buying - literally - into the bullshit.

Style vs. the World

Often, when I am thinking about clothing and style, I am thinking about me. What will my style be. What do I like. What will I wear. What will I buy.

Occasionally I am jolted out of this me-centric microcosm and I catch a glimpse of the macrocosm. I am reminded, again, that none of my choices exist alone, that I belong to the Earth, that 'what I do to the web, I do to myself' (to paraphrase Chief Si'ahl). The True Cost was a memorable incidence of this (and I still recommend it wholeheartedly to anyone who wears clothes). More recently, I read Consumed by Aja Barber, and it was another much-needed reality check. 

It's not that I don't believe that we as individuals deserve nice clothes and great style. It's just that it's easy to get fixated on the nice, glossy, surface aspects of the fashion industry, and big business in general, and then we can kind of ignore the difficult truths that our purchases are often doing harm in the world, and that climate change is fairly likely to pull the rug out from under our comfortable existences in the next ten years or so.

Let's tackle the first aspect of this first. Consumed was not a comforting read for me as a white person. I knew that the fashion industry of the global North was both exploitative and extractive, but I'd never understood it in terms of colonialism before. It strongly reinforced, for me, that there is nothing whatsoever good about the fast fashion business model, and we need to stop supporting it and pumping our hard-earned money into it, stat.

There were sections of the book that kept me up at night. I'm not sure how exactly to describe what I was feeling, but I think the best term is horror. 

"The settlement of Old Fadama is where a lot of the unsold clothing from Accra ends up; it's home to 80,000 people and is built on top of dumped clothing. These people are becoming physically displaced by the clothing that is disenfranchising their way of life."

I just... I'm still processing that. People are living on top of our unwanted clothing. Accra, in Ghana, is home to Kantamanto Market, the biggest second-hand market in the world. Up to 90% of donations made to charity shops in the UK will eventually end up there, because there is so much. Even in Kantamanto much of this waste remains unsold. But the landfills are struggling to cope, so there is waste clothing in piles on street corners, on the beaches, in the sea... If you want to know what that looks like, click over here.

I am mortified that this is what we, collectively, as a society, have been doing to other people. 

Now, thinking about climate change. I don't know if I'm alone in this, but I find it quite difficult to reconcile the way we are currently living with the devastation that - worst case scenario - could be occurring in the next ten years if we don't radically alter our trajectory. I am aware that the first and worst hit by climate change will be the already-marginalised peoples of the South (where climate change is already happening, lest anyone still think this is a future possibility - no, climate crisis, climate deaths and climate refugees are a reality that is happening right now), but I'm going to couch this mainly in UK terms, as I'm writing this mainly thinking about people who are privileged like myself, looking at this mess from the same position as me, but also, like many of us, not actually looking at it, because it's complicated and scary. People who, like me, say, "Ah yes, climate change, very terrible, much sad," and then turn right back to our phones and feeds and carry on shopping.

I think I've gone over a lot of these points before, so I'll just recap some of the highlights, as I notice that a lot of my friends in the UK are still thinking of climate change as something that will affect, say, the Amazon rainforest, or a handful of ice caps - and yes, yes it will affect those things, and that would be tragedy enough in itself, but also the UK will be facing:

- Increasing flood risk

- Crop failure and failing fisheries (that's food shortages)

- Climate refugees and potential conflict (when those low-lying coastal regions are under water, people will be in competition for the remaining land and food)

- Increased risk of pandemics

- Increased risk of fires

- More storms and extreme heat

- London mostly underwater by 2050

All of those at once sounds fairly apocalyptic to me, and makes it very difficult to plan for retirement or my child's future. I'm doing my best, but when the signs point to 'business as usual spells environmental devastation' but everyone in charge is doing a good impression of an ostrich, I'm also looking quite seriously at moving to higher ground and learning how to function off-grid. Did everyone else start talking about who would be on their zombie apocalypse team when The Walking Dead came out? Time to start dusting off those survival plans, IMO. Build your communities now. Unless you trust Boris and the gang to save us all. (My husband is a mechanical engineer; my skills include spinning, weaving, archery, foraging and some basic herbal medicine. It's a start.)

So, while in the short term I'm thinking about accessories and trips to Glastonbury, the long term future is uncertain and hard to look at directly. Is anyone else experiencing this disconnect? 

A book I have found useful is Climate Cure: Heal Yourself to Heal the Planet by Jack Adam Weber, who is himself a climate refugee, having evacuated from wildfires in California and then lost everything to volcanic eruption in Hawai'i. Weber directly addresses the weird limbo we are currently in: "I've also let go of the expectation of living indefinitely in a comfortable and standard home, with money in the bank. We are all now more nomadic and vulnerable than we realise or might prefer. We cannot know when we will be stripped of all for which we've worked so hard."

Despite the title, which for me conjures visions of white light and sending positive thoughts, Climate Cure focuses on tackling eco-anxiety, engaging with climate breakdown and building resiliency, both on an individual and community level. Weber says, "Outer solutions remain only as effective as our passionate care to radically minimalise our personal lives so we 1) consume less, 2) free up time and energy to engage in regenerative acts, such as growing our own organic food and showing up to help one another, 3) demand top-down change from our governments, and 4) learn about climate crisis to support ourselves and others through it."

Books like Consumed and Climate Cure really help me keep things in perspective. It's not about how many pairs of shoes I have or what brands I buy. It's about de-growth; it's about what I can do if I'm not busy consuming, it's about doing my best in my lifetime to mitigate the damage that has been done. It's about learning new ways of living that are more viable within the parameters of our planet.

Earth-Based

Recently I got called out by an oracle card deck that I got for Christmas. The deck in question is a pocket-sized set of 40 cards by Nadia Turner, called Forest Fae. First of all let me mention how exquisite these cards are - enchanting and not a little strange. Unlike the other decks I use, they are also pretty straight-talking, as they each contain a short phrase or message. I appreciate this a lot on days when I'm not in the mood for decoding symbolism or intuitively analysing imagery. In fact, for a fae-based deck, I was a little startled by how forthright these cards can be.

As I shuffled, my mind was wandering. I was thinking about my upcoming visit to a medieval fayre, wondering what I might buy. What sort of clothes was I looking for nowadays? Did I want to lean into my more practical, natural side, my inner barefoot hippie, or did I want to go more Glastonbury glamour, with glitter and flower crowns? I have no idea what question I originally intended to ask when I picked up the cards, but it wasn't one of my interminable, imaginary wardrobe dilemmas.

The first card I turned said, "Take the cloud roads; delight in your imagination."

As someone who has bemoaned, at length, my inability to daydream and visualise, which has happened over the last decade or so and which I blame pretty much entirely on my total absorption with shopping, fashion and social media (and which has made it rather difficult to write any fiction in recent years), I felt like this was a strong nudge. Stop asking stupid questions; go and remember how to daydream.

But it wasn't really the answer I wanted. Shopping Brain wanted to be told to go buy stuff. So I asked for clarification and drew another card.

 "Seek inspiration in twilight wanderings."

I translated this as: remember that new novel you keep saying you want to write but can't get any ideas for? Perhaps you should stop worrying about clothes and pull your head out of Instagram. (And I've always loved walking in the evening, or at night, when things are quiet.)

Mainly out of curiosity, I pulled another card.

 "Go to the woods. Seek moss, mud, and magic."

Well, now my disappointment was forgotten and I was becoming elated. I couldn't have asked for more apropos advice. I couldn't actually go to the woods right that minute as I had someone coming to fit my smart meters, but I determined to go just as soon as I could. And not just to take pictures for Instagram, either. As my fourth and final card advised: "Be a caretaker of silence."

Coincidentally (or not), I had just downloaded a sample for Starhawk's book The Earth Path, in which she says: "To be a Witch (a practitioner of the Old Religion of the Goddess) or a Pagan (someone who practices an earth-based spiritual tradition) is more than adopting a new set of terms and customs and a wardrobe of flowing gowns. It is to enter a different universe, a world that is alive and dynamic, where everything is part of an interconnected whole, where everything is always speaking to us, if only we have ears to listen. A Witch must not only be familiar with the mystic planes of existence beyond the physical realm; she should also be familiar with the trees and plants and birds and animals of her own backyard, be able to name them, know their uses and habits and what part each plays in the whole." 

Like Starhawk, my initial interest in Paganism was sparked by a desire for a spiritual path that embraced and honoured the feminine, but I have returned to it lately due to my love for and connection with the land. Yet this is a connection I find hard to maintain; there's no denying that the jolt, the buzz, the shopping high (or the weirdly addictive mix of anticipation and unease that is my social media experience) can exert a greater pull in the moment than meditation, birdwatching in my sit spot, or walking in nature.

I'm engaged so much with my gadgets lately that walking in a green space does strange things to my eyes, as they readjust to different shapes, spaces, patterns of sensory input. It's refreshing, like a bath and a nap just for my eyes and brain. 

I'm not sure how many times I'll need to learn the same lesson before it sticks. But at least I'll have my cards to keep me on track when I need it. And in the meantime? I guess I'll be in the woods.

I'll be away next week celebrating my handfasting - which, all being well, will be this weekend. After three postponements and a brief and casual (but admittedly lovely) legal ceremony, I'm deeply looking forward to finally being able to have our wedding!

Be More Glastonbury

When I told Dai that I'd decided not to run a shopping ban this year, he said, "Oh, good," which told me - in a typically laconic Dai way - that people around me probably thought it was time for me to take a break as well. I'd paused tracking my spends, too, but in the end I decided to try a slightly different approach. Tracking my bills, groceries, and spends out of my control - repairing broken windows, recovering my dad's untaxed car - was getting a bit pointless (and depressing). Those costs were static, or unavoidable. I'd switched my energy suppliers, reduced my grocery costs as much as was feasible - there was nothing more I could do there. Sometimes, your best is all you can do. And tracking the costs of days out with my son was starting to feel like setting an unneeded limit. 

Instead I decided to focus on the spends I still wanted to reduce - clothing and accessories, books, and cosmetics. I knew what I had spent in those categories in 2021, so for 2022 I decided to keep a running total of just those categories with an annual budget in mind, rather than writing down all my purchases every day. That way I could still purchase if I came across something spectacular, and might not feel quite so obsessed. After a few years focusing on what you can't do, it feels refreshing to look at things from a different angle.

And in fact, I had been wondering - was some of my inability to complete a shopping ban due to my starting point? In 2019 when I first started, I had an awful lot of clothes, which I had been buying in a kind of scattergun approach. Following the end of my previous long-term relationship (thirteen years - over half my life, at the point when it ended) I wasn't really sure who I was as a single person. It was surprising how little I knew about what I liked, and what made me happy. Meeting Dai, having our baby, changed my outlook still further even as it rendered a good chunk of that existing wardrobe obsolete. (I've gone from a size 8/10 to a 14/16, and given it's been three years I don't think I'll be getting much smaller.)

In these recent years with Dai I have been able to explore and fine-tune my tastes, interests, likes and dislikes, and now when I choose clothes it's with a much better idea of who I am, what I will wear and how I want to look. The shopping bans, though they may have failed, served a necessary purpose in slowing me down so I could get to know myself. And my shopping behaviour has changed accordingly. I rarely shop online now, my Amazon wishlist has dwindled to just a handful of books, and I don't waste my evenings endlessly browsing for the 'missing pieces'. I've finally been able to clear out some of the things I really didn't like to wear, and this time I know I've made the right choices - I was braced for regret, but instead I felt relief.

A phrase I often use, in the privacy of my own mind, is, "Be more Glastonbury." This a a reminder to myself that it's okay to be a bit weird, not to be everybody's cup of tea, that sometimes an open mind and a sense of wonder is what you need. (I use Glastonbury because it's somewhere I go regularly, but equally you could substitute Stroud, Brighton or any other quirky, colourful and magical place that attracts seekers of the extraordinary.)

Sometimes, I find that when I use this motto it nudges me towards the bright, sparkly, gift-shop aspects of Glastonbury. I think of flowing skirts, jewel-coloured lipsticks, glittery hair extensions, flower crowns and opalescent nails, fairy wings and bumper stickers that say: 'Caution: Faeries and Elves in back seat'. And whilst I can't deny the appeal of this version of Glastonbury, I've spent the last few years learning that, whilst self-love, self-care and self-esteem are essential, image is fun to play with but it isn't everything.

I tend to obsess about Glastonbury when I'm at home, but when I'm there, it can be a bit overwhelming. I'm comparing myself, watching, worried I might miss something, worried I might lose control and buy everything. Sometimes I get a weird dose of imposter syndrome - should I be 'more different'? Other times I feel other people there are playing a part, all show and no substance, and I feel contemptuous about the pre-packaged gifts and glitz - magic for sale, devoid of meaning. 

But there's no denying that reminding myself to 'be more Glastonbury' has been useful. I've slowly opened my mind to new possibilities, started to dress more the way I really want and stopped worrying about what others think, focused more on creativity, spirituality and well-being, and learned to embrace what makes me happy without needing to compare, judge or label it (or myself).

Being more Glastonbury doesn't (always) mean buying trinkets or adorning myself. Glastonbury also means live music, a community fridge, an organic food co-op (named after my matron goddess), sacred sites, art galleries, a non-toxic hair salon, bookshops and libraries, a magical landscape, being connected to the community and the environment. It has temples and abbeys; ancient wells and sacred springs, deep roots in folklore and myth. It's not just a big shiny shopping centre. I have to remind myself to peek beneath the glossy facade. 

The truth is that I don't think I'm ready to complete a year-long shopping ban. Perhaps, if I spent 2022 being more Glastonbury - enjoying getting dressed, buying less, playing music, finishing that clear-out, sticking to a regular practice of meditation and yoga, reading my unread books, spending time in nature, watching the changing seasons, going barefoot in the garden, avoiding mass-produced products, reading poetry, and finally starting on that novel, then by 2023 I might finally be in the right place to do the thing. But by then, would it even be necessary?