Shopping With Your Heart

Recently I went on a shopping trip to Brighton with Alice, one of my best friends. I'd kind of thought that after all these years of learning and experimentation, I'd finally grasped my style and figured out the best approach to shopping for me.

The weekend before, I'd hosted another clothing swap, as requested by a couple of friends. Just like last time, I completely underestimated how much stuff people were going to unearth from their wardrobes and found the entire downstairs of my house basically wallpapered in clothes. I even had a bit of a clear out myself - I've been following the FLYlady method to get my housekeeping under control (I was sceptical at first but so overwhelmed by the housework I would have tried anything, and actually I absolutely love it and can't believe the effect that even a moderately clean and tidy house has had on my self-esteem) and I realised that, with the small storage area I now have, I have too many clothes for it to be manageable. This is a bit difficult for me, as I'm still finding my style and I don't like to get rid of things willy-nilly, but also I want to fit in the space. So I'm kind of gently filtering down and simplifying. My end goal is a capsule wardrobe, but I'm first and foremost an environmentalist so I won't waste things that I can wear and use - it will be a slow process and I'm okay with that. 

After this clear out, it was amazing to look into my (much tidier) wardrobe because all of a sudden I could really see my style. Based on this, I made a Pinterest board, and wrote a very specific and careful list of all the pieces I thought were missing from my wardrobe, which then became my shopping list for the Brighton trip. Elementary, right?

Can you see where this is going yet? The usual reversal, wherein what I think I've learned turns out not to be the lesson at all?

The Brighton trip had been eight months in the planning, as I wanted to have a chilled-out, child-free, girlie day without overspending but also without scarcity mindset. I was really excited to have some time with Alice (and looking forward to the vegan breakfast at Kenny's Rock and Soul Cafe, which is a thing of beauty). Without wishing to get too personal, I've found that since the Goddess blessing and energy healing I had for my thirtieth birthday (an experience I've not talked about at length on this blog as I wrote about it for my book), a lot of my friendships have been undergoing changes as I've been able to open up more and be more myself. 

The friendship I have with Alice is one that's gotten stronger, and as I've mentioned before, it has been a relief to me to open up to her about a lot of what I post about here - obviously I talk to Dai, but realistically he can only maintain so much interest for dissecting the ins and outs of personal style, and this dress over that dress, and other people's outfits and what I like and don't like about them. Alice, however, has a similar relationship to shopping and style, so we were able to discuss at length, and it was an amazing feeling to talk with someone who really, really gets it.

Alice, being Alice, was ready and willing to help me stick to the letter of my shopping list - but, to probably no one's surprise but mine, it didn't work out that way in the end. Alice is starting to really embrace a more colourful and creative style, and she was having an excellent day of good finds and versatile choices. I, armed with my shopping list, was not having so much luck. I managed to tick off a couple of items that matched the list but were also right for me ('chunky knit cardigan - neutral' said my list. Rainbow is a neutral, and I stand by that - it goes with everything). But when I tried on some outfits that met the list criteria and also reflected my Pinterest board, it just didn't feel right. In a blue-grey linen wrap skirt and off-white wrap crop top with ruffle sleeves, I looked grown-up and elegant in a kind of understated boho way, which I thought was what I wanted. But apparently, Pinterest me and real life me are two different people.

"This isn't working," I admitted. "I'm trying to talk myself into buying it. But I think it'll just hang in the wardrobe and never be seen again."

We went onwards. By the time we were exploring the rails of vintage store Beyond Retro, I was feeling really disheartened. The list wasn't working. I could see what suited me, but I wasn't finding what I really loved. Nothing was *ahem* sparking joy. 

I shuffled up beside Alice, who had the most gorgeous pair of trousers in her hands. I'd told myself 'no more funky trousers' (I have a patterned trouser problem) but these were really great. I was exclaiming over the Art Deco-ish print when I suddenly thought to ask, "Wait, did you pick these up for you? I'm so sorry!" Luckily Alice laughed at me - she'd seen that I was getting a little lost in my own head, and had picked up the trousers knowing they were exactly my thing.

Lightbulb moment. Those things I buy over and over - funky trousers, cable knit jumpers, ocean colours with the occasional pop of tie dye or rainbow brights, printed T-shirts - those are my things. I decided to forget about the list and buy the things I loved. The things that were missing from my wardrobe were missing because I won't wear them!

I've definitely learned to choose better. I left behind a t-shirt that really made me laugh but was a horrible, Wish.com-type fabric. I didn't buy yet another pair of paisley harem pants. But as well as my chunky rainbow cardigan and an ocean-blue longline T-shirt with a Thai-inspired print, I bought the Art Deco trousers, another pair with a star print, and a soft green cable knit jumper. And some chunky mismatched rainbow mittens for the winter. And I know, one hundred per cent, that I will wear all of these things to death.

Alice reminded me to shop with my heart, not just my head. Intriguingly, she could pinpoint my style even when I couldn't. It turns out that the right shopping buddy is an invaluable support, and a friend who really gets you, even more so. 

Not only did I have a great day, I stayed within my budget, I bought some things I really love, and I was then able to give away (or put back in my wardrobe) a few more of those 'maybe' pieces, because I understood a little better what I really won't wear. Alice and I had time to dip our toes in the sea, and we've agreed that our next outing will be less intensely shopping-focused and more about having a good time. This one was a win.

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.

Honouring Myself

I've got to level with you: digging up all those old photos for my Memory Lane post got me feeling really nostalgic for my old style. Sure, there's some stuff I don't miss from that time in my life - underneath the veneer I really didn't like my natural face, I thought I was fat, I was the girl who wore full make-up to the gym. My eyebrows occasionally washed off in the rain, and simply put, I no longer want to dedicate hours each day to achieving any kind of 'look'. 

When I was a serious goth blogger, I was generally in part-time employment, and in hindsight I suspect fairly depressed - it wasn't uncommon, on my days off, for me to stay in bed until mid-afternoon, then get on the computer until 3am, then back to bed. I could commit hours to getting dressed if I wanted to, because I didn't have much else in my life. I also didn't have the financial commitments or responsibilities that I have now, so if I spent all my money on boots, eyeliner and absinthe, it didn't impact anyone but future me (thanks for not saving anything from ten years in employment, past self, that was so helpful). 

I also don't see myself as a super-gothy type person any more. I like my rainbow dungarees and harem pants. I love a bit of colour. But there were definitely elements of that past style that I'd like to take forward into my new look - I'd forgotten how much I used to enjoy layering (decorative belts, lace sleeves under t-shirts, skirts of different lengths), and a wider variety of accessories than the necklaces and earrings I tend to fall back on nowadays (gloves, wristbands, hair accessories, tights, stockings, hats and brooches). 

Again, I'd have to remember appropriate dress (tights and skirts not always useful on the nature reserve, but fine for going to a cafe; t-shirt and jeans great on the nature reserve but also you are allowed to make an effort when you want to), but at least when I visit Glastonbury and Brighton later on this year I now have more of an idea of what sort of things to look out for (past me is kind of astonished that I now only have one small box of jewellery and one decidedly non-decorative belt). Having a greater range of accessories, and items like vest tops, scarves and shrugs bought with layering in mind, also meant that I could be more versatile, and make a wider range of outfits from a selection of favourite items. I spent the last couple of years trying to shed items that I deemed 'purely decorative' or 'unnecessary', which I think went hand-in-hand with my crisis of confidence, when I just wanted to be a little bit invisible. I feel like I'm going to spend a chunk of my early thirties trying to undo some of the decisions I made in my twenties. 

At the risk of sounding a bit dippy and New Agey (who, me?), the way I've been thinking about this is that I want to honour myself. Not subscribe to a label or someone else's dictates of how I should dress, not get carried away and obsess over my clothes above all else, but be true to myself, have fun, dress in a way that I find beautiful.

It has to be said that one thing I miss about dressing in a way that is markedly different, is people's reactions. Okay, not all of them (having beer cans thrown at my head can go), but there's this little vain part of me that loves a compliment. After I posted some of those old pics on the Book of the Face, I got a flurry of messages along the lines of: "you used to look really cool!" Thanks 😂 Whilst I don't want to go courting acclaim for its own sake, it's notable that I seemed to have decided that being older, and a parent, meant that I was no longer 'allowed' to feel a bit special or want beautiful things. Instead I should be happy with an anorak and jeans. Nothing wrong with my anorak and jeans by the way - but it's not like there's actually an age limit on "looking really cool", after which the fashion police will come and take me away if I look to be getting too interested in pretty things.

This reminds me again of that remark my friend Alice made about, "this isn't really you, it's just how you got used to dressing when you were pregnant." I was so angry at the time, but just as Dai occasionally contributes a pearl of wisdom, sometimes people who aren't me seem to have a better idea of what's going on with me than I do.

I'm weirdly nervous about re-learning how to accessorise. I've been trawling the charity shops looking for items to suit my current style and the direction I'm going in - so far, without much luck. This time, though, I'm determined to go slowly and be patient, instead of flinging my money at fast fashion 'alternative' brands, or things that are 'nearly right'. Honouring myself means not compromising on my ethics, too.

Rewilding in 2022: A Progress Report

So, we're now around a third of the way through the year. This feels like a good time for me to lay my cards on the table and talk about how things are going. Buckle up, this is going to be a long post.

The reason I started this blog in the first place was to stay accountable during my year-long shopping ban. As I'm sure you know by now, despite multiple attempts this was not a challenge I have yet been able to complete - however, one incremental lesson at a time I was able to get a better grip on my finances and reorient myself in the world, rebuilding a life that didn't revolve entirely around shopping.

In the process I somehow ended up writing a book, discovering the practice and philosophy of Druidry, making efforts to live a more sustainable life, and reconnecting both with myself and the natural world. So it wasn't exactly a wasted effort.

This year, I decided not to try to force myself through another twelve months of trying not to shop at all. I'd tried three years in a row, and it just wasn't working, despite the positive changes I had made. Each time I seemed to stick with it long enough to begin to see a difference, and then something would come along that was just so special I had to have it. And after that first purchase, it becomes much harder to stop yourself from the next, and the next.

And the thing was, as I've said many times, now that I wasn't panic-buying and binge-shopping all over the place (that stereotypical image of Woman In Mall With Fifteen Shopping Bags And A Skinny Latte really did used to be me), I was choosing better. Not perfectly, not every time, there were still things that didn't look right when I got them home, nail varnishes I never wore and gave to friends, the occasional regret - but overall, I did manage to develop a smallish but functional wardrobe of things I love. So, not completing a shopping ban turned out not to be the worst thing in the world.

Rewilding

This year I decided instead to put my focus more on what I wanted my overall life to look like, guided by the single word: rewilding. 

One of my last purchases of 2021 was an almanac, the Way Back Almanac by Melinda Salisbury. I purchased it without seeing a sample or any inside pages, based purely on the blurb. And on New Year's Eve, I sat up in bed and read the January chapter while fireworks blossomed across the sky outside. 

 "You'll notice all the things we're supposed to acquire and become all fit a narrow and artificial, wealthy, white and western bandwidth of what 'good' lives should look like. And they don't factor in the natural world at all. [...] I'm giving you permission not to succumb to media and brand demands to change yourself. These dark days are ideal for nurturing and soothing, for resting and recuperating. However, we're not entering total hibernation. We need to remind ourselves there's life behind walls and computers. We must begin rewilding ourselves."

I think the hair stood up on the back of my neck when I read that. It was just so precisely what I needed to read. I wanted to climb into my almanac, with its recipes for soup and natural cosmetics and gentle, earth-loving, wholesome advice, wrap myself up in its pages and live there. I immediately ordered the first of Salisbury's #WayBackBookClub books.

Very early in the year I felt myself flailing around a lot, bouncing from one social media app to another, neglecting my sit spot, forgetting about watching the sunset. But unusually for me, I wasn't shopping, or even browsing very much. I kept getting the old twinges of comparison if I spent too long online, but as soon as I closed the apps I seemed to come back to myself.

Oddly, I kept having this recurring image floating to the surface of my mind in quiet moments - just myself, meditating. But this image gave me such a strong sense of peacefulness and calm - a rootedness in my being. It felt like an invitation, a starting point. It kept drawing me back, over and over, to the concept of simplicity, of letting go of all the frantic nonsense of the overculture. It grounded me in the conviction that actually, not banning myself from shopping seemed to be the right approach at this time.

When my garden started to come alive again in spring, I approached it differently. Instead of immediately eradicating my weeds, I tried to learn about what was there. Dog's mercury is poisonous, so had to go, but possibly indicated that an established woodland may once have existed where my house now stands. I gathered cleavers - which like me you may know best as 'stickyweed' - and chopped it into my scrambled eggs for breakfast - eating my weeds made me feel like a bit of a badass, not going to lie. I've read (in Rewilding the Urban Soul) that wild foods are more nutrient-dense than cultivated foods, so I possibly gave my health a boost too.

However, this was the bright spot - over the winter I realised I had become almost completely disconnected from nature. Since the Spud started nursery and we moved away from the nature reserve we had less time for our walks, and for a while I had a bunch of mega stressful life stuff going on (at one point a section of my hair turned grey overnight, which I thought was just a TV trope). The weather was cold and horrible, and our new house lost so much heat through its ancient windows that I was loath to go out and get chilly knowing I'd struggle to get warm again. Our daily walks dwindled to a once-a-week adventure, but then after the Spud came down with one bug after another from nursery, these too faded away, and by March I felt less 'wild' than I had to begin with.

Shopping

So what you may now be wondering is, how's my shopping actually doing without those self-imposed limits and restrictions?

Well, it's been a mixed bag. At the beginning of January, I felt so uninterested in shopping that I thought I might fly through the year without buying a thing, that perhaps all these shopping bans had been a case of barking up the wrong tree. In mid-January, however, digging up old photos from my goth years reminded me that I used to have a lot more fun with style, and I felt some regret that in many cases I'd replaced beautiful items with prosaic ones. Acknowledging that I need my clothes to be somewhat practical, I started keeping an eye open for a few more items that were really stunning. However, I knew I had a trip to Glastonbury booked in April, so I didn't throw myself headlong into online shopping. Happily, I've stopped craving a quick fix to any perceived wardrobe dilemma - I'm more able to proceed slowly and build on what I already have rather than purging half my stuff and panic-buying a ton more every time I have a change of heart.

I've observed before that my urges to buy are often synced with certain times of the month; I noticed this time around that the moon also plays a part. At full moon I am more likely to feel dissatisfied with my appearance, and have a sense of restlessness which can lead quite easily to acquisition. Now that I'm not trying to eliminate purchases altogether I'm not demonizing these tendencies, but it's useful to have an understanding of when I might find it hardest to stick within my budget.

In February, one of my dear friends was taken shopping to celebrate a milestone birthday, and I was caught off guard by the nostalgia - and, I'll say it, envy - this provoked in me, remembering teenage trips to the mall, giggling in the changing rooms, the glory that was the sheer variety and affordability of cheap brands. I really wanted a 'proper' shopping trip, and I lamented to Dai that I kind of wished I could go back to a time when I didn't really know about the scale of the damage that fast fashion is doing. When it was just a pleasure. 

After a few days of feeling really deprived, isolated from my friends (I know there's some sexism behind the suggestion that shopping is a women's pastime and that's a whole can of worms I haven't really even peeked into yet, but in my circle there are only one or two others who are cutting down on their consumption for environmental or ethical reasons and it's definitely considered a bit niche and eccentric), and demotivated (I hadn't really considered that it takes energy to keep setting yourself apart from what everyone around you and society-at-large considers 'normal'), I compromised. I took a trip to TK Maxx, which I had previously considered off-limits. 

Since reading Consumed by Aja Barber I learned that discount stores, while not ideal and, in an ideal world, unnecessary, perform a sensible function in that they sell end-of-the-line items that would otherwise be destined for landfill. I tried on anything and everything that caught my eye. I really made a day of it. I exhausted myself and had to stop for a protein bar. And I bought two items - a summer dress (I only owned one other at this point) and a smart top made from recycled polyester. Perfectly anticonsumerist? Definitely not. An improvement over years previous? I think so.

I noticed that Instagram use definitely corresponds with increased shopping, or at least an increased desire to shop, which is a bit unfortunate. Perhaps I'll have to give serious consideration to putting my account back into hibernation, as by April I was kind of hammering through the clothing and cosmetics budgets I'd laid out for myself this year, although it's not critical yet.

Inspirational reads this season:

The Way Back Almanac 2022 by Melinda Salisbury

Rooted: Life at the Crossroads of Science, Nature and Spirit by Lyanda Lynn Haupt

The Wheel: A Witch's Path Back To the Ancient Self by Jennifer Lane

The Outrun by Amy Liptrot

The Way Home: Tales from a Life Without Technology by Mark Boyle

Consumed by Aja Barber

The Guide to Eco-Anxiety by Anouchka Grose

Afloat by Danie Couchman 

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? 

Change, Not Sacrifice

In late December, since my finances were going to hell in a handbasket for reasons largely beyond my control, I decided to stop tracking my daily spends for a while, as it seemed like beating myself up more than anything. Although I'd conceived of this as a temporary break whilst I waited for life to get back on an even keel, I found it quite difficult to get on board with, as though not writing down my purchases would trigger some kind of enormous supermarket sweep that I wouldn't be able to stop. It seemed like giving up.

And in many ways, I think I was giving something up. It had become an almost subconscious belief that if I could just sacrifice enough, my individual actions would counterbalance fossil fuels, banks, governments, the entire underpinnings of capitalist society. As if one person's abstinence from air-freighted asparagus might tip the system.

It isn't that I don't believe individual actions are necessary or valuable. Quite the opposite! I believe that we each need to do what we can in our own lives and in our communities to build resilience, protect and repair our ecosystems, vote with our wallets, and otherwise gently but firmly wrest power from the corporations that hold it. 

However, my family, friends and peace of mind were telling me that since I can't singlehandedly perform miracles, I had to stop looking for the amount of personal inconvenience that would magically fix the climate. I have this kind of romantic ideal of the person I'll be when one day I don't want to shop any more and can afford an organic veg box again, when I live in a fictional idealised community that has a food co-op and a tool library and I can get everywhere I need to go by foot or bike.

The thing is, that's not where I live now, nor is it the life I'm living. Nor does making myself feel guilty about every choice, purchase or action get me there any faster.

I don't really accept the prioritising of personal luxuries over global issues. I'm not going to be cranking the heating up in January so I don't have to wear a jumper or sit with a blanket. It's still my intention to reduce my meat and dairy consumption and try to avoid air-freighted foods. But I do want to feel generally happy and comfortable, so I did finally fill a Thrift+ bag with the clothes I don't wear (or that I force myself to wear) and sent it off. I also finally decided that I'm not doing a shopping ban this year, although my intention is still to reduce my overall spend, especially on clothing, and choose wisely. The way I describe this change in the privacy of my own head is, "I want to dress in a way that makes my heart happy," and I'm working towards that.

I'm also trying to accept that at the moment I am skint, and so I can't always afford - for example - the Ecover washing up liquid instead of the supermarket basic. (I hate knowing it's damaging to aquatic life every time I do the dishes, but I also need to eat. Instead of blaming individuals, I'm learning to blame a) the companies who make these things, and b) the system that makes it more expensive to not harm the planet and imagines that trickledown economics is a viable way to sustain a fair and just society.)

One change I will be making is a move away from Amazon. I know, ironic for an author whose book will be sold there, but I don't like their approach to either resources or people, and I feel there are better places to put my money than in the pockets of billionaires. Honestly, it's something I've been thinking about but putting off for ages now, because the selection is so vast and the prices are so cheap. One of my survey sites pays in Amazon vouchers, which I used as a shopping ban loophole for a time. When they temporarily changed their vouchers, I found myself having to admit that I didn't want to spend actual money on some of the things on my wishlist. Because things were so cheap and plentiful, I was beginning to make poor choices.

Equally, in the same way I don't buy clothes from fast fashion retailers any more, so too do I want to move away from the 'pile it high, sell it cheap' mentality with regards to books. There's still the library, book swaps, charity shops and - for a real treat, as it was when I was growing up - independent book sellers.

Buying an item of clothing has become a more special occasion for me now that I do it less often, and usually in person, from a small retailer, often combined with a visit to an interesting place or event. I'd like to see this same shift with regards to buying other things. It feels like an improvement to my life rather than a sacrifice.

A complete Amazon boycott would be difficult - an awful lot of sites are hosted through their web services, for example. But I can move my custom to other booksellers, at least. 

So my plan at the moment is to change and improve the way I shop and what I spend money on, rather than to stop shopping entirely. Is this a step backwards or forwards? I guess I won't know until I try.

Shopper's Guilt

We all know about buyer's remorse, but I'd like to coin a new term: shopper's guilt. This is something I have noticed I now feel when buying, well, anything, from a new item of clothing - even when necessary - to a hot chocolate on a cold day. I think it stems from having tried for so long not to buy anything at all. I love to see whole weeks of no-spend days on the page in my journal where I write down my daily spends, and sometimes it's hard to remember that groceries, birthday gifts for other people's kids, and even - deep breath here - the occasional treat, are not failures.

The thing is, I've read about so many people who successfully completed a year-long shopping ban that I just assumed it was something I would be able to do with enough willpower. I didn't really take into consideration other factors at play in my life, such as the struggle I'd had to put a wardrobe together post-baby. As long-term readers will know, due to a number of factors such as lack of self-esteem and not much sense of personal identity, my wardrobe for the last couple of years has largely been made up of items gifted by friends and family during their own clearouts, which helped to tide me over when I didn't have money to spend to buy new items for my changed body and really needed a break from online shopping.

But now, three years after the Spud's birth, I am finally starting to get comfortable with who I am, what my shape is and what I like, and I'm able to make good choices about what to buy and when. But I felt so guilty about wanting to do so, when I already had things I could wear.

Then recently I read Real Life Money by Claire Seal. Actually I put off reading it for ages after checking out the sample, because I was super invested in trying to be as anticonsumerist as possible at all costs, and sentences like "it's not about bullying yourself into frenzied frugality and then beating yourself up when, inevitably, you need to buy a new toothbrush on a 'no spend day'," gave me the Fear. I'd learned to think in very simple terms regarding money - spending = bad. I was sceptical - and nervous - about the suggestion that there might be other ways to tackle my shopping habit other than the extreme frugality method.

But after feeling terrible for buying myself a new jacket - even though I'd already identified that I needed one, and had had it on my wishlist for nearly a year - I decided I'd better give it a go. I've gotten way better with money since starting this blog - I actually have savings now - but I was tired of the guilt. I'd spent years feeling small because I shopped too much - now I felt bad if I shopped at all, which didn't really feel like an improvement.

After reading Real Life Money - or rather, devouring it in two days - I bought two items from a local business run by some friends of mine - a pair of rainbow dungarees with a celestial print, which were discounted, and a deck of Tarot cards I'd been looking at on Amazon for about eight months. 

Immediately I felt awful and texted Dai, telling him I needed him to hide my debit card, as I "was suffering a lack of self-control". Then I stopped and thought about it. Did I want to return the items? Well, honestly, no. The dungarees fit beautifully, went with a lot of my favourite items, and were gorgeous. I was pleased that I'd been able to find something so me in a local shop. The Tarot deck was bright and colourful, and had a very different vibe to my other deck, which is more dark and earthy. I do try not to collect decks, as I don't see the need, and I'm sceptical of collecting things just for the sake of it (everything takes resources, after all) but having two beautiful sets for different moods and different readings didn't seem like the end of the world.

I texted Dai again. "Actually, belay that. I've spent within my means and I don't regret what I've bought. It's not a self-control issue I'm having, it's a guilt issue."

Learning to shop mindfully scares me a bit, because historically I find moderation harder than an all-or-nothing approach. Last winter I tried to take a break from my endless shopping bans and immediately bought far too much. I'm the sort of person who finds it hard to eat just a couple of cookies. But, is all-or-nothing healthy, or have I been shooting myself in the foot trying to go from full-throttle shopaholism to a dead stop? Have I been subconsciously telling myself that I don't deserve nice things, or that I am bad, wrong or brainwashed for wanting those things in the first place?

Real Life Money was a really useful read for me, not just because of the similarities between Claire's shopping issues and mine - she discusses how new motherhood, body image and social media can all be factors at play, which I have definitely experienced. But I teared up reading things like this: "The appeal of stripping out every extra cost from your budget can be hard to resist, especially if you’re angry with yourself. But punitive budgeting just doesn’t work in the long run, because you grow resentful and bitter as you start to feel more and more deprived. If we take things right back to our goal of happiness, security and mental wellbeing, months and possibly years on end of putting your life on hold for the sake of improving your finances doesn’t really make sense. After all, to put a slightly morbid spin on the matter, you could finish off paying your debt or reach your savings goal, and promptly get hit by a bus. That’s not to say that it’s not healthy or necessary to make a few sacrifices – after all, if we carry on doing the exact same things, we can only expect the exact same outcome – but making sure we keep our emotional wellbeing front of mind is important."

A note: I regularly add new books to my Recommended Reading list (which lives in my sidebar for easy reference), and this month I decided to add an extra section specifically for books that I would definitely have included in the bibliography of The Anti-consumerist Druid, had I read them before submitting the manuscript. So if you're hunting for something new to read, you'll find all my favourites in that post.

Ethical Alternative Clothing

One thing that really surprised me when I started trying to shop more ethically was that the alternative clothing market, generally speaking, is no better than the rest of the fast fashion brigade. With the exception of a handful of notable brands, clothes marketed to consumers who want to stand out from wearers of 'mainstream' fashion are produced in the same environmentally unfriendly ways and in the same brutal conditions as other big-name companies. Hopefully this is an area where we will begin to see change, as we all become more aware of where and how our clothes are made, and as more and more consumers begin to speak up.

I must admit, I find it really ironic - and annoying - that clothes marketed towards the peace-loving hippie, the fiercely creative goth or the anti-capitalist punk are often produced in ways that are the antithesis of all those values. From ripping off indie designers and artists (Dollskill) to mass-produced punk clothing (what is the actual point?!), styles that were once proudly handmade or stood for something genuinely radical have become yet more fodder for the great consumption machine.

I kind of didn't get for a long time how radical were the advent of hippie and then punk fashion, but when I started to understand that before the sixties there was essentially one correct way for women (and men) to be attired within the boundaries of one's social class, defined for you right down to your hairstyle, make-up and undergarments, I began to see how shocking a statement the miniskirt and Mohawk really were. 

It seems to me that very little in fashion is genuinely shocking now (when I first dyed my hair blue, aged twelve, a lot of people pointed or gawked, which seems hard to imagine nowadays! Teenage me would have been very, very excited about the rainbow of make-up and hair colours that are now readily available on the high street), and the boundaries between what is 'mainstream' and what is 'alternative' seem to be getting blurry. Alternative, now, just seems to mean doing a different kind of consumption. You buy from Killstar instead of ASOS, Camden Market instead of Selfridges. But it's still about having a certain look, and about consuming, whereas back in the mists of time, those 'alternative' subcultural markers were often a political statement.

It's not that I think being different, or looking different, is only for activists and anarchists. But I find it interesting to note how clothing as a form of cultural shorthand has changed in just a couple of generations, and how pervasive is consumer culture that even the styles of sixties and seventies countercultural movements are now mass-produced.

However, it's not all negative. DIY fashion is still a thing, and there are hundreds, if not thousands of small makers and artisans selling their wares at markets up and down the country, as well as on eBay and Etsy, many of whom source their materials ethically and sustainably and strive to pay a fair wage to their workers. Of course, the second-hand market is a treasure trove for those seeking a more different or unusual look. I've found that since I started to follow bloggers like Sheila Ephemera and Vintage Vixen, I can more easily see potential amongst the charity shop rails. Vix's blog actually helped remind me of what I loved about clothes in the first place. As she says, "I don't follow fashion and if I look ridiculous so what? Not being noticed and blending in with the crowd is my idea of hell." This kind of individual self-expression, the skill and artistic eye required to develop a really unique look, is to my mind much more 'alternative', creative and meaningful than buying an entire outfit from Hell Bunny and calling it a day.

My personal idea of a way of dressing that is alternative in a meaningful way (rather than simply as visual code for Being Different - not a bad thing in itself, but less important to me now than it was ten years ago, and easily subsumed by the modern tidal wave of personal branding) would be something like that expressed by Nimue Brown in her post In Search of Greener Clothes. I've been thinking about this sort of thing as I move from trying not to shop at all to learning to shop mindfully and in moderation - I want to own and wear clothes that make me feel good, that make my heart happy, and I completely identify with Nimue's comment, "I have a horror of looking like the sort of person who has bought all their clothes from a supermarket." 

There's an excellent article about ethical goth clothing on the Domesticated Goth blog, which I recommend for further reading on this subject.

I generally try not to post shopping links on this blog, for what I think are fairly obvious reasons, but a handful of alternative ethical and/or sustainable brands I am generally happy to purchase from are:

Gringo

Wobble and Squeak

Wanderlust and Faeriedust

Celtic Fusion Design (although I'm getting towards the top end of their sizing, which is a bit of a shame)

Gippies range by GutsyGingers (their own designs - the name 'Gippies' being a blend of goth and hippie)

AltShop UK

MoonMaiden

I haven't personally purchased from these (yet), but my research also turned up the following:

Foxblood

Church of Sanctus

The Last Kult

Holy Clothing

Noctex