My Year of No Shopping. July 2023.

I almost bought a Fitbit. I know! I KNOW. Another month wherein I - wait for it - shopped. However, while I may have shopping, when push came to shove, I didn’t purchase.

Does it matter that I would have bought it used? Maybe? In any event -

This is going to come as a true shock to you, dear reader, but — it’s getting harder. I want to quit this experiment.

There. I said it. It’s hard. I don’t like this No Shopping Year anymore. The bloom is off the rose. I am a minimalist and I like to shop. Maybe I don’t shop as often as the average person, but I stake my claim as a tried and true member of consumerist culture.

I want upgrades. Clothes, luggage, a sectional for the front room… I could go on and on. I want to go on and on. I want to write a list of my wants - I may have already written one, now that I think about it… - and click "Complete Order” at 12:01 a.m. on the morning of January 1, 2024.

I want a frame tv for our main room (then move the big black rectangle of our current tv to the back room); I want a sectional so we can finally offer more seating when guests come around; I want a carpet in the main room to make the space cozy; I want 2 more drawers for under our bed and an upgraded bedside table (have you seen the wee size of our primary bedroom? It’s gasp-able. I love it but I also love optimizing small spaces. THE CHALLENGE OF IT ALL.) I daydream about finishing the carriage house above the garage. I dream of jeans that measure up to the current standards of fashion; I dream of colorful tops to make my silver strands pop.

Yes, the yearning for a new wardrobe continues. But I will say that all this time NOT shopping and instead, implementing the talents of my seamstress, have allowed me to lean into tailoring clothes already in my possession. I’ve altered 4 shirts and blouses at this point. My body frame includes a very (very) short torso. In retrospect, I’d have been better offer shopping in the petite section these last 30 years of my life. But instead of shopping petite sections this year, I gazed at my closet and realized I’d wear the blouses more often if they hit me at just the right spot. I feel put together. Maybe I will shop for petite tops moving forward. Or, maybe I’ll shop thrift and continue to hem them just right.

A win for no shopping.

Clothes will never not fit me ‘just right’ ever again. I’ve heard speak of women tailoring every item they purchase, and now I am one of them.

We traveled a lot in July. Sometimes, when en route to the next destination in said travels, I’d take a break from my latest reading material. And I’d find myself surfing the internet and shopping… Not purchasing, but scroll-shopping nonetheless. One want would lead to another…

After a particularly long day at the airport, I started searching for rolling suitcases. I refuse check luggage, but my shoulders are rather tired of lugging totes. Soon, roller suitcases filled my feed. Search for one roller suitcase, prepare yourself for every roller suitcase with a marketing campaign.

Prior to our big California trip, my daughter coveted her cousin’s collection of Disney Villain Barbies. She hadn’t touched her Barbie collection in months and months. I flat-out refused to get the villains. She begged. She whined.

This is a pain point for me. Buying what will go unused. But, this child of mine is also a mirror. I can so clearly see in others how these ‘wants’ are temporary, fleeting. But I do the same thing. Sometimes I get it in my head that I need something new. I rush to fill the void. And after the initial charge I get from the purchase, the dopamine wears off and I end up disappointed. The anticipation and the reality rarely equate to satisfaction.

As her begging continued, I realized that this wasn’t a fight I wanted to have. I told her she could do whatever she wanted with her money. I told her if she wanted to sell some toys that she no longer wanted, she could use that money however she chose. I knew the Californian trip was looming. I knew she’d want everything she laid eyes on at Disneyland. (Just so we’re clear, the irony is not lost on me that, in my Year of No Shopping, I visited one of the consumerist capitals of America, Disneyland.)

She sifted through her room and closet and cleaned house. She made bank. Our tried and true resale group on Facebook wanted all her cast-offs.

But once she had all that cash in hand, she didn’t want to part with it. Now that it was her money that was vanishing, the Barbie Villains lost their luster.

At Disneyland, I suggested she just look at things the first day, remember what she liked, and reflect. Think about what she wanted most. She saw hundreds of humans wearing Minnie Mouse ears. She was consumed by the notion of buying her own. She also found birthstone Mickey Mouse earrings. They unmoored her.

By the end of the first day, she no longer wanted the ears. Just the earrings. I was impressed. It a wise decision.

We had a gift card for Disneyland, so we got the earrings for her. I wondered if that would lead her to purchase the ears. But no. They, like the villains, had lost their luster.

I got a Christmas ornament with the gift card too. I know. I know! On the one hand, the money would have gone unused. But, more honestly, ornaments are what I get on family trips. And every year when we trim our tree, we take those ornaments out, and they truly and genuinely bring me joy. They bring me back to Mackinac Island and Golden, Colorado, etc. They spark memory conversations.

I guess I am a collector. But more and more, I realize that my collections are rooted in memories. Maybe everyone’s are.

At the end of Day 1 of Disneyland (of a total of 1.5 days), I checked my iPhone’s Health app. We’d logged well over 19,000 steps. I noticed that my average for the month prior was closer to 5,000/day. With summer, my daily dog walks had been paused, replaced by hot yoga but also, a child home for the summer.

Suddenly, I wanted to challenge myself to get 10,000 steps/day as is suggested by ‘health experts.’ But I didn’t want to carry my iPhone on my person everywhere. And I definitely didn’t want an iPhone watch.

Enter the idea of a Fitbit.

I started making excuses about how health trumped No Shopping. It worked for the yoga mat! I searched on Amazon. Then I searched on Facebook Marketplace. I found one for 1/3 of the price of a one Fitbit. I made the offer. I readied to pick it up. Then the seller sent the address —

And I paused. Did I really want to track my steps? Or was I creating another measurement in my day that would deem me either ‘good’ or ‘bad’? In an instant, true hard-core honesty permeated my being and my future lay before my very eyes. I would become hyper-focused on the Fitbit… til I hated the Fitbit.

Kind of like No Shopping.

Maybe this year isn’t just teaching me about how shopping fills a void of longing and desire, discomfort and dis-ease. Maybe it’s also revealing to me that restricting is a way to keep myself in line.

And, maybe I don’t need to do that anymore. Maybe, I can start learning to trust myself.