Intentions for 2023

New Year's resolutions aren't for everyone, I know. Back in January, when talking about our goals for the year ahead was perhaps more relevant than it is now, Moss of Spiral Path wrote an interesting post about the toxic standards and unrealistic pressures that pile onto us year on year.

Yet, during that curious, dark and still time between Yule and Imbolc, I wrote in my journal this list of intentions:

- I want to be fully myself; to discover, express and live my truth. This will mean setting boundaries, speaking my truth, spending less time online so that I can understand and develop my own clear-headed thoughts, opinions, feelings and ideas, being honest with myself, listening to my body and my intuition, honouring my own thoughts and feelings.

- Quitting Amazon. Over the coming year I will use the vouchers I earn from surveys to buy those things on my wishlist that are only available from Amazon; the remainder of my wishlist I will move to Bookshop.org. I will also stop adding books to my wishlist in 2023 - I will discover books through personal recommendations, physical bookshops and the library.

- I will continue my practices of yoga, meditation, grounding and centring. 

- I will spend as much time outside as possible - I will put my bare feet and belly on the earth, I will swim in the sea.

- As well as the OBOD Bardic Grade and the Sisters of Rock and Root course which I am studying this year, I will continue to focus on my exploration of Druidry and the enchanted life through reading and practice.

- I will start re-reading books that I already own.

- I will slow down and invite simplicity, joy, connection with nature, contentment, peace, healing and grace. 

- I will continue to honour nature, the passing of the seasons, and our cyclical nature. I hope to move deeper into these practices and grow my connections with deity, the ancestors and the world of spirit.

- I will complete at least one of my stockpile of crafts and models.

- Insofar as it is financially feasible, I will continue working towards a low impact, zero waste lifestyle.

- I will not cut or dye my hair.

It's March now, so I can share a little insight into how I'm doing with these things:

- a work in progress, but I am learning to set boundaries, stop carrying what does not belong to me, and to be honest even when it's uncomfortable. I was recently on a therapeutic retreat where I met some individuals on twelve-step programmes, and I was deeply impressed by their hard-earned ability to express their feelings honestly, unashamedly and with clarity. I've been online more than I wanted to be (mostly to promote my book) but I'm currently working on taking a bit more of a break.

- This is going well. I have added no new books to my wishlist this year so far, and because I am reading books I already own and using the library, I don't have such a towering TBR. 

- I have practiced yoga and meditated every day so far this year and it feels SO GOOD. I've practiced yoga sporadically for years but it's only since developing this daily practice that I've been able to see noticeable changes in my strength and flexibility.

- This has been a struggle - it's been mostly cold and wet. I want to double down on this intention as I think it will make a huge difference to my experience this year if I can carry it out.

- Really enjoying the Bardic Grade so far, and currently reading Zen for Druids by Joanna van der Hoeven

- Re-reading some of my older books has been something I've planned to do for ages, it feels great to finally get on with it

- It's been an unusually busy year for me so far so slowing down has been harder than I anticipated over the winter when I was basically a hermit, so I need to take some time for rest when I can

- Haven't taken as much altar time as I would like this year, but I'm finding a disciplined meditation practice to be very beneficial

- I am currently knitting a hat from a kit Marc bought me in 2019 😂

- This is going well. We're having veg boxes delivered, eating locally and seasonally, buying from a nearby smallholding, using a local milkman, and have switched completely to natural non-toxic cleaning products. We also make use of a local food waste prevention discount store and community fridge, which pass on food from supermarkets and online stores that would otherwise go to landfill and use the profits for charitable causes, but this sometimes means we end up with a lot of plastic packaging. Luckily, our local zero waste refill store have a partnership with Terracycle, so they pick up all our hard-to-recycle plastics. It's not an ideal system, and sometimes I am tempted to slip a note in with the plastic recycling to explain where it has come from ("I'm not just a bad zero waster, I'm preventing food waste!"), but it feels like moving in the right direction.

- This is a random personal thing; since childhood I've wanted to know what would happen if I didn't cut my hair for a long period (say, a decade) but with my butterfly brain have never carried out the experiment. Thought I'd start small, with a year!

2023 is turning into a really interesting year for me. The confidence I have been building since I started working on myself in my first shopping ban is growing exponentially. My comfort zone is expanding, I'm calmer, I'm addressing some traumas from my past with help from therapy, and I'm really excited to see where things go!

As for shopping - well, I started a new shopping ban at Samhain, and I haven't broken it yet, which brings me to a personal best of 122 days without an unnecessary purchase. This time around, I'm definitely not finding it as difficult as I have in the past. I think I needed so many attempts to break the conditioning and habits that I had formed. This time, I think I will not only be able to achieve my 365-day goal (with some allowed purchases that I defined for myself at the beginning of the challenge), but also be under my annual budgets for the first time. Easy to say when it's only March 😂 but it just feels a lot more possible than it ever has before.

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

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.

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. 

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.

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 

Advice from a Past Self

Ferreting through some of my old writing recently has brought me face to face with the fact that I've been wandering in circles for some time, mentally speaking, rehashing some of the same old thoughts and ideas about style and identity. For example, I wrote the below in 2015, and then apparently didn't take my own advice *head in hands, gently screaming*

It's deeply frustrating that I have been doing this same kind of navel-gazing for so long, and I can imagine that it's nearly as irritating to read about as it is to live through. I really, sincerely am grateful that you have continued to bear with me. 

I have mentioned on numerous occasions the time in my life I secretly think of as the Flailing Years, when I moved from being an enthusiastic-if-slightly-clueless goth girl to, well, whatever it is I am today. With hindsight, progressing from one style and sense of identity to another is not, in the grand scheme of things, a very big deal. At the time, it was, for various reasons, petrifying and somewhat hideous. 

Mistakes were made; money squandered; even the most patient loved ones grew tired of hearing me wail 'I don't know who I am any mooooooore!', not least because the only advice they could give ('Just wear what you want!') seemed to fall on deaf ears. (You can't just wear what you want when you haven't the foggiest idea what you want in the first place!)

I don't know whether or not anyone else shifting between styles has found themselves tripped up by an all-or-nothing approach to things like I did; or has stayed up into the wee hours endlessly trying to dissect - both out loud and in journals - what the hell kind of person they actually, deep down, really wanted to be. But I'm assuming that there are more of us out there! And for those people, having flailed my way through the deepest depths of self-absorption, frustration and confusion, I can now present a few tips that helped, at least for me - stuff I wish someone had said to me at the time. I'm sure a lot of this will sound really obvious to other people, but it wasn't to me.

1. You can't buy a new you. What will actually happen, if you're much like me, is that you'll end up with a pile of extremely strange clothes - none of which go together, most likely - and in a year's time you'll end up getting rid of half of it whilst wondering why you didn't buy a new computer game or a weekend away instead. During that year, you will become increasingly stressed that none of these purchases actually made you feel any better, and go on to feel thoroughly suffocated by the amount of random, unwearable stuff you now have. So first and foremost, limit your clothing purchases. If your wardrobe fills you with unhappiness and lingering dread, then OK, go out and buy a few things that you could stand to wear right now. But other than that, put down the credit card. 
2. Instead of buying beautiful clothes that you will look at in awe and never, ever wear, spend the money on something better. Better, you ask? What's better? Something that's meaningful to you. What are your passions? Your hobbies? Get a new book or a new moisturiser or cactus or pair of headphones. Take a trip somewhere, to a gig or a new gallery. Get away from thinking about style and subcultures for a bit. If you really, really don't know what's important to you right now, go basic. Take yourself to see a film. Buy yourself a coffee or a box of doughnuts (I have a loose definition of meaningful, all right?!). Why? Because the best way I've found to dig yourself out of a style identity crisis is to get to know yourself better, under the clothes (not like that, you perv).
3. Stay away from the internet. And stop wandering despairingly around Topshop while you're at it. Oh, the hours I wasted waiting to come across the one person or picture or item that would be The Ultimate Piece Of Inspiration, and make my sense of identity suddenly click into place. 
4. And maybe start browsing things that are relevant to you as a whole person, not just how you want to look. If you're not as all-or-nothing as I could sometimes be, you might not have jettisoned large chunks of your personality to focus more on fashion. But if you have, now's a good time to start gathering them back in. In other words, if there's ever a time when looking into a fandom is a good idea, it's now.
5. Make something. Anything. I literally don't care if you're drawing stickmen. Creation is cathartic, it distracts you from obsessing, and it gives you something better to talk about than your shoe wishlist.
6. Focus on moments. When I was paying most attention to my appearance, I had a tendency to try to watch myself as if from the outside. Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, my attention was on how I looked to others whilst I was doing it, not how it felt from the inside. I'm not saying that it doesn't matter at all how you look. If it's important to you, that's cool. But I don't think that in the short human lifespan, the most important thing should ever be how you looked while you were here. If you can, try to pay attention to what's going on around you, what your senses are telling you, how you feel; not picturing how you look in this particular light or how you're going to write this up for your blog later. Be there for the experience (and if you then realise you don't like where you are, make your excuses and leave).
7. Think about your values. What's important to you? Feminism? Animal welfare? Politics? Self-expression? Art? Many of the groundbreaking subcultures we know of today came about through a political protest or music genre. As you look deeper into what your values are, you may find one of these movements that speaks to you. Or you may just get to know yourself a bit better, which plays a big part in finding your own style.
8. What drew you to your starting-point subculture in the first place? Was it just the look? If so, what elements would you want to keep (silhouettes, colour schemes, distressed elements, fabrics etc.)? Were there other factors, like music, art, literature or friendships? Chances are, you can change your style without 'losing' any of those. Think about what drew you in, why you want to change, and what elements from that subculture or style you want to 'keep'. I wrote this post to help me think about what 'spoke' to me from the styles I had an interest in.
9. Similarly, try to work out what you want from your wardrobe. Be honest with yourself! I had to accept that, though I love fancy looks on other people, my priorities are comfort and freedom of movement, so six-inch-heels and corsets aren't for me - at least not for everyday wear. How do you feel in what you're wearing right now? How would you like to feel? Could there be something you need to accept, or change? It helps to stick to these ideas when you make new purchases - if you know you feel most comfortable in simple, casual clothes, you can buy as many frilly dresses as you want but they'll probably just sit in the wardrobe. If you prefer to wear black but feel like you 'should' try colour - erm, why? They're your clothes; you're the one who has to pay for them, accommodate them and wear them (or not).
10. Experiment privately. Mistakes will happen. Take photos if you want to remember what you wore or how it made you feel, but wait a while before you post them online or you may cringe later. And we've all had times when you realise halfway through the day that you feel ridiculous in your outfit. Sometimes this will happen and it can't be helped, unless you want to wear the same clothes every day (I practically do, actually). But for important events, try to stick to what you know and what you feel good in, at least until you've got more of a handle on your wardrobe. (And if you do end up realising you looked like a lunatic at X party, try not to stress. Goodness knows, we've all been there. In my case, repeatedly.)
11. One of the most important things for me, which I have alluded to in several of the other tips here, is to try not to obsess. When I realised that my interests were shifting away from Gothdom, my style then became almost all I could think about. If I wasn't this person any more, then who the hell was I?! Trying to force myself into a new cookie-cutter category - even if I had to make one up myself - so that I could relax became my mission. It was only when I gave up, out of sheer frustration, and resigned myself to wearing pyjamas and nerd T-shirts forever, that things like my values, passions and actual priorities became visible to me again. Be patient with yourself.
12. Don't beat yourself up. When I was a Goth, I thought I'd be happy dressing that way for my whole life. I loved it. So when I started to feel that it wasn't for me any more, I was upset. I felt irritated with myself for not having enough 'commitment', and tried to stay Goth longer even though I was really starting to feel like I wanted to move on and try other ways of expressing myself. What worked for me in the end was making sure to 'bring with me' the things I had discovered through Goth culture that I still enjoy - music, cool boots, certain films, dark literature and many other things - and also not to dismiss that part of my past. Just because something wasn't permanent doesn't mean it wasn't interesting or fun or exciting at the time, and brushing it off as 'a phase' feels like belittling that part of my past and who I was. I try to look fondly on who I was then and who I am now.

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.