Falling off the fashion wagon

Overheard in the office #3*

“OOOoohh, nice shoes.”

As I filed into a meeting during my latest office stint, I noticed something: pretty much everyone had on really great shoes. Suddenly I had an urge to shop - and a sinking feeling…

In January 2017, I decided to go cold turkey: I’d indulged in a little one-for-you, one-for-me Christmas shopping, and had left my job and go freelance and didn’t know how money would work out, so I figured it was time to stop buying clothes for a while.

Inspired by Michelle McGagh’s article about not spending (at all) for a year, I decided to scale her idea down a bit and give it a try. And I did it. A whole year without buying clothes. Not even socks. But when the year was over, I fell pretty hard off the wagon.

I’ve been on and off since, clicking and scrolling and adding stuff to that digital shopping bag in the sky** a little too often… monthly budgets get busted, one-in-one-out policies are breached (I buy a top on a promise of throwing that old holey one away, but then can’t part with it…).

I have plenty of clothes – not an unusual amount for a woman with a wage I don’t think – but really, enough. And I mend and keep hold of pieces I like (there are items in my wardrobe I’ve had since before I met my husband, and we’ve been together almost 20 years).

But everywhere you go there are people with great shoes. There are dresses. Bags. Coats. Really nice ones. It gives me the wagon wobbles.

Now though, more than ever, while I’ll try to forgive myself for moments of weakness, I’m determined to keep trying to keep my finger off the ‘complete purchase’ button.

Working in the third sector - for international development organisations, and for charities trying to protect people and the planet - gives me extra insight into how damaging the fashion industry can be. It’s a hot topic (I recommend having a read of this recent piece by Lucy Siegle). Of course clothes and shoes are not the only thing we (wealthier) humans consume on too vast a scale to sustain, but it’s significant enough to attract attention.

Another thing I’m more aware of because of working in this sector is that simply having a home with running water, electricity, a (mostly) sound roof and warm beds puts me among the richest, luckiest people on Earth. I don’t need more stuff.

So if you could all just stop wearing your nice shoes and pop on your holey T-shirts and smelliest, boringest footwear that would really help me out a lot. Thanks.

*Third in a #write52 series.

** Yes I know the shopping basket isn’t really in the sky. And I know they say ‘add to basket’ instead of ‘buy’ because it feels less like a commitment, and that the things you put in baskets come back to digitally haunt you. I know my principles of persuasion and UX tricks, but still I fall for them sometimes.

 P. S. Sorry this isn’t anything to do with writing or words or language or even work really but the aforementioned office stint was at the lovely Lumos, where I was interim managing editor for a few months.