The Nature of Thrifting (Part One of Four)

I read a complaint by a social activist that people who think they're doing something for justice by buying clothes secondhand aren't doing the right things, or enough of them. Her point, as I understand it, is that buying a used t-shirt doesn't educate us about capital-I Issues, nor does it channel money into capital-B Businesses owned by capital-P People that the social activist wants us to patronize. Like small independent fashion designers.

Okay.

Well, that's like saying that just putting money into a church collection plate isn't the same as getting out there and "working for the Lord." Agreed that it's not the same, but it's still important. There are front-liners, there are second-stringers, there are supporters. Some people will always stay in the back rooms of ministries, or just be names on donor lists and prayer chains, but that Does Not Make Them Less Valuable.

When you  choose to buy something secondhand, or swap or re-use or buy-not, it is a small act, but it is felt.

It is felt because of what you didn't do. Because you chose to buy-or-not-buy your X from already-existing sources, you most likely chose not to buy a similar X new. That's a vote for the environment, against pollution and packaging and garbage dumps, all that industrial-nasty stuff. Some people would also say that it's a vote against "slave labour" or unjust practices which are commonly perpetrated mainly against women.

It is also felt because of what you did do, or what your thrifting money does by going into the funds of a charitable organization or ministry. Mennonite Central Committee, for example, posted this on its website in 2019:

MCC and its partners are helping create opportunities for women and girls to flourish by:

• Supporting survivors of sexual violence after Hurricane Matthew in Haiti
• Participating in the UN's Commission on the Status of Women
• Working to improve maternal and child health in Kenya
• Partnering to provide women with access to loans and agricultural training in India
• Facilitating mental health services for women in Afghanistan

So it's all about choice, isn't it? I can support a small business by buying its products, if I can afford them and if they have something I need myself, or can use for my own business, or want to give to someone. Or I can support a ministry or charity that has worthwhile goals. Or I can make a hundred other choices.

But don't ever think that any of those choices are too small to be noticed.

Top and skirt from Salvation Army Thrift Store

New feature: The Intentional Thrifter

At one time my thrifting activities were randomly acquisitive.

Sometimes there's a strategy in that. Amy Dacyczyn once wrote about trying to scrounge cross-country skis for her family of eight. After passing up some partial sets, she realized that, having lots of storage space, she would do better to accumulate a big pile of boots, poles, and skis in different sizes, and then match them up to her people.

As young parents, we did the same thing with little-kid clothes: if a baby or toddler haul came along, we saved as much as we could for the next nothing-fits emergency. I accumulated craft and sewing supplies, and kids' books, although I was pickier about those.

Now, living in a smaller space and with less maybe-someday storage, I have to be more intentional about what comes home. Of course we are also beyond the stage of saving up kids' clothes and learning stuff. And at this point you might think my whole point is going to be "buy less, don't accumulate."

Well, sometimes you do buy less, and sometimes you don't. Like Amy, you may be over-accumulating with a purpose. Maybe you want as much red, white, and blue yarn or fabric as you can find, because you're planning a patriotic afghan or quilt. That's intentional. Maybe you need a hundred canning jars, because you're going to give everybody salsa and jam for Christmas. Or a bunch of flowerpots, because your plants are growing like crazy and need to be shared. Or every travel guide and history you can find about your bucket-list place, so you can plan a better trip. That's not hoarding, that's intentional.

My personal-stuff and home-stuff thrifting over the last couple of years has gotten more intentional, and that's developed a strange side effect. I now wander into thrift-store aisles that I used to ignore, and ignore the ones I used to spend all my time in. I price adult books, not children's, and I rarely look at the kids' books out in the store; I just don't need any. Until recently, I would never have bothered with business books, but I'm finding now that some of them are helpful in the courses I'm taking. Our needs change.

You can thrift more intentionally when you've narrowed down a basic colour scheme, or when you know what the gaps are. Our main living space here has a lot of beige, brown, and green, plus some floral things here and there. If I saw some table linens in those shades, I might pick them up; but not if they were neon pink or black striped. My eyes have gotten trained to think "yes, that's like our living room."

Very recently, I found a purplish button-up cardigan on the 75% off rack. It will go with all my favourite scarves, and my grey skirts and pants. Yes, it's May, but I'm putting it away for fall.

And that's intentional.

If you had ten Canadian dollars...

1. Ten dollars at the discount grocery store buys three bananas, a package of tortillas, a package of peppers, and two small bottles of pop to share. (What's for supper? Fajitas made with leftover chicken, along with reheated rice and a can of beans.)

2. Ten dollars buys two DQ cones. Not happenin' here. Well, maybe sometime in the summer.

3. Ten dollars buys three cash bus rides. (Tickets are cheaper.)

4. Ten dollars buys a package of ten razor blades, or a three-pack of socks.

5. Ten dollars at the thrift store buys a scarf, a 75% off cotton cardigan, and some books.

How do you spend ten dollars?

Quote for the day: "The mechanics of unhappiness"

"In the same way that your joy does not equal the price of an item you buy, neither do the functions of that item. A down jacket that costs double the price of the one you already have will not offer double the warmth. Your dissatisfaction continues, and you reach out for something else. You know you'll get used to the next thing and become tired of it as well, but you can't help predicting the future based on your present feelings...In the back of your mind you know that you'll never be satisfied, but you keep thinking that maybe this time the brief sense of happiness you feel will be the real thing. These are the mechanics of unhappiness, and they exist no matter how much you spend, no matter how much you own." ~~ Goodbye, Things: The New Japanese Minimalism, by Fumio Sasaki

Made and treasured (Fashion Revolution Week)

Fashion Revolution Week: April 23-29, 2018

These cushion covers (from Ten Thousand Villages) are not clothes, you say.

Yes, I know.

But they have something in common with the aims of Fashion Revolution Week.

They were loomed by hand, by artisans in India who used the ikat dyeing-weaving process. If you're not sure what that is, take a look at the crafting footage in this video from My Green Closet.

Besides the fact that making ikat cloth seems incredibly difficult and time-consuming, which unfortunately makes it expensive, there's another point to consider: it's valuable because real people used their eyes and hands and tools and skills to create it. Like the Fashion Revolution slogan "Loved Clothes Last," it means that items made with that much artistry are for keeping. We put them to use, but we also treat them with care, out of respect for their makers, for the materials, and the creativity embodied in them. Like hand-knit slippers, or hand-penned calligraphy. Or a recycled-iron owl (also from Ten Thousand Villages, but not currently on their website).

Things kept and used in this way take on a meaning outside of words like "sofa cushion."

And clothes kept, worn, worn again, maybe mended or dyed or altered, take on meaning as well. It's not just a jean jacket; it's your jean jacket. 

That's a long way from fast fashion.

Thrifting: how do you choose?

Things I've found at the thrift store lately, with their rationalizations:

Silver and purple pendant necklace. Out of a whole rack of necklaces, why did I choose this one? Size, shape, and colour. I could see it fitting in with the clothes I wear most often. 

Plum-coloured jersey top with...poppies, maybe? The photo is showing purple, but it's more reddish, the same colour as the necklace. Why this one? It took a little more thinking: I don't usually buy clothes with pictures on them, and I do have a plum-coloured top already. But I liked the springy flowers very much, I like jersey t-shirts, and it is mostly cotton, not synthetic fabric. The fact that it was a half-price deal decided it.

Teal-green trench coat with a button-in lining  The winter weather has been "stink, stank, stunk," but by March this coat should get lots of use. Why this one and not some other coat? Honestly, need (and the fact that it was four dollars on the clearance rack)! I used to have a brown trench coat (no lining), and I wore it to church and places like that for years...and years. Finally I started to feel like a relic from 1989 every time I put it on, so I let it go, and I've been long-raincoat-less ever since. I did remove the shoulder pads on this coat, an easy fix since the inner lining isn't sewed down at the hem.

Conclusions: This story seems to need an ending. Here's one: know what you need, know what you like, know when to stop.

Make your Boxing Day shopping count

Some people are hitting the malls today, but if you're more into online shopping, you can take advantage of sales at the less-mainstream gift and clothing websites. Ten Thousand Villages is having a sale, mostly on holiday decor but also on some jewelry and home items (American site, Canadian site). Toronto's Encircled clothing company has a discount plus they're planting trees if you buy something. The StyleWise blog also has a link to discounted "ethical" accessories.

As for me, I'll wait until Friday, when I have my next volunteer morning at the thrift store.

Let's talk some more: how I ended up with fewer but better clothes, and had to re-do the page

I had fun with Project 333 this fall, in spite of the fact that I broke all the rules, kept finding new things all season at the thrift store (volunteering is bad for that), pulled out half my summer clothes again in a burst of KonMari, and figured I was finished with tiny wardrobes since I was obviously not very good at sticking to minimalism. The fall/winter page here was also a mess since I kept crossing things out and adding other things.

So I changed my mind and added a just-winter page. The clothes aren't new; but the list is cleaned up and easier to read. Strangely enough, I don't have many more items on it than most respectable "tiny wardrobes."  It may not look like anybody else's version of what people "should" have, but it's working for me.

I don't know how most other people go about "thrifting" wardrobes, but here's what I do. Take what you can use.

I've seen articles online talking about which things you should snap up at thrift stores, and which ones are not usually worth your time. I'd say, make up your own list based on your experiences. I've read that it's impossible to buy used pants (because of fitting issues), and that t-shirts and sweaters are usually worn beyond bothering. But I take a pretty standard (although petite) pants size, and if I see the magic number on a label, it usually fits. As for tops and sweaters...well, you have to look past the poor ones to find something you do like. So figure out your own must-visit categories, those you'll look at only if you have time, and those that are a no-go for you. My quick-looks are the bargain rack, for obvious reasons; shoes, because although I rarely find any that fit, the odd exceptions make a regular look worthwhile; and dresses, because I like them and they're often more interesting than the tops and pants. If I have time, I look at the accessories. Anything else just depends on what I don't have much of; maybe I really need pants, a new purse, or whatever. Is there anything I wouldn't look for at all? I rarely look at athletic clothes, yoga pants and things like that. I also don't spend time looking at very fancy dresses. Jewelry was another section I used to skip, but this fall I've started looking at necklaces again.

The point is, your must-try list will be different from mine. It depends on what you love, what you do, and what you need. And one other "what": what you would like to try, or change. Maybe you have never ever worn jeans, or dresses, or high heels, or anything bright red, and it's just time. Maybe your secret wish is to be Rhoda Morgenstern. Thrift stores are the perfect place to try out new things.

Watch for colours you like but which may be hard to find in the average mall store. One idea I've seen online, but haven't tried, is to buy a too-big t-shirt in an interesting colour, cut the body away from the neck and sleeves, and wear the resulting big loop as an infinity scarf.

The last bit of advice is an obvious one, but...thrift stores vary. Donors, merchandise, and prices vary. I used to visit one store that always had great books, but horrible clothes, because the donors were mostly frugal older people who wore their clothes to shreds. Some stores sort things more carefully than others do. Some places smell better than others. If your only thrifting experiences have been bad ones, remember that better things may be hiding in another neighbourhood, or the next town.

Something to read today: beyond pretty things

Pointing you to A Holy Experience today to read "Go Ahead: Why You Can Give Up On the Goal of a Beautiful Life."

Thrift shopping: something I learned about clothes

The top below is a Kenneth Cole Reaction cotton/spandex (jersey-type) t-shirt, bought for $4 at the thrift store. It looks sort of blue in the photo, but it's actually smoke grey.

The reason I say that is because it's exactly the same shade as the (officially) smoke grey reversible/convertible dress I bought last fall from Encircled (below). It even feels a lot the same (the dress is made of sustainably-produced, low-impact-dyed modal jersey).

Should I enjoy wearing one of these more or less than the other, according to where they were made (Cambodia vs. Canada), what's in the fabric, or what I did or didn't pay for them?

"That is not what I meant. That is not what I meant at all." (T.S. Eliot)

For some of us, being decisive about "what we like" is tough. Some of us could write a Pilgrim's Regress about growing up sartorially clueless. Some of us have been trained to think, "It's a shirt. Wear it," in exactly the same tone as the inner voice which scolds, "It's food. Eat it." An inner attitude of "yeah, whatever," has its uses, especially when options are limited; but it doesn't give much credit to our power of creative thought and choosing. If you think I'm wandering hopelessly here, this might help (it's from a 2012 post about homeschooling):

1.  Use what you have.

2.  Use what you have creatively.

3.  This is the hardest part to explain:  stay aware of your "big picture."  Unless you're naturally serene about letting the unschooling chips fall where they may, you need to keep evaluating, planning, trying to keep in mind whatever educational goals or philosophy you steer by.  Plus whatever family circumstances, special needs, etc. you have to deal with.

4.  In other words, you can use what you have, or what comes your way, as long as it fits into your overall education plan. In Lloyd Alexander's book Taran Wanderer, the main character Taran meets Llonio, a father who supports his family by taking hold of anything that fate throws in his net--literally.  The family never knows from one day to the next what will float down the river, but they cheerfully take whatever comes, and eat it or wear it or use it.  As Taran stays with Llonio's family, he appreciates their generosity and their creativity, but he also eventually realizes that their way of life is not exactly for him.  He wants to do a little more purposeful seeking, instead of just catching what comes his way.  

Why did I notice that t-shirt during a very, very quick trip to the thrift store last week? Probably because smoke grey jersey is now on my radar as "I like that." Not that I want to dress like a rain cloud every day, but it's in my "purposeful seeking." 

Sometimes it's worthwhile to go out and do a little purposeful fishing; because then when something useful does accidentally float past, you can grab it. It's all part of the learning.

Is anti-materialism garbage? And other questions.

If there's anything in the less-is-more, few possessions and no-garbage movement that makes you slightly itchy, you're not alone. Although you may feel slightly guilty about that reaction; after all, it was Christians who popularized the phrase More-With-Less. The Scriptures have plenty to say about how messed up the rich man is, and why we shouldn't love "the world," however you define it. But that can get us into guilty legalism, or a Nathaniel-Hawthorne-esque picture of solemn, black-garbed lives. Or, in this decade, we're more likely to think of stark white, minimally-furnished rooms. Whether the concern is for our souls or for the planet, we seem to end up in the same place. Possessions are troublesome. Clothes are only for warmth and modesty. Brownies should be made out of black beans to justify their existence.

There is nothing new about the argument for and against things that give us pleasure. I think even St. Paul ran into it with his churches (e.g. his letter to Timothy, referring to people who tried to ban too many things). Yes, the days are evil, and we are to mortify the flesh, etc. On the other hand, every good and perfect gift is from the Father, and it is not sinful to enjoy and be thankful for the useful and/or the beautiful. In certain situations, you might find yourself grateful for the invention of disposable diapers or plastic water bottles. Or, equally, for the life of an artist whose work gives you joy. Or for a bunch of flowers on a difficult day.

It is a good thing, I think, for the extreme minimalists to ask big, uncomfortable questions, and for the rest of us to consider the answers they come up with. Is more recycling what's really needed, for instance, or just less produced and bought to recycle? What happens (asked one person) when the recyclables are recycled into something non-recyclable? In our own region, I hope that the current push to blue-box and green-bin more of our waste will be met at the other end by something other than chucking it in the landfill. But how do you really know where anything goes? Did my thrift-donated sweater clothe someone locally, or did it get bundled overseas to be donated or resold? Is a disposed-of laptop now getting picked apart by someone struggling for food in China? Is one endpoint better than another?

Is it a worthwhile pursuit to bring home cheese in a glass jar instead of a plastic package, for the sake of less garbage? Or, equally, for someone else to then post diatribes about the wastefulness of animal products, even in a glass jar? St. Paul knew about this, and so did Jesus when he talked about tithing herbs and straining out gnats. Are we creating the big picture, or are we missing it? Is it better to special-order a refillable pen and bottle of ink, or to simply buy what's on the Walmart shelf and not waste time worrying about it? Are the socks I bought hurting somebody in an Asian factory? Should I have spent the extra effort tracking down some that claim to be all-natural, fair-trade, or both? Or could I have used that same energy and time listening, reading, walking, helping?

Does God mind if we go out after church for a burger and fries?

Are there one-size answers to these questions, or are they all maybe yes, maybe no? If you have any thoughts, I'd like to hear them.

Shopping fun with Mama Squirrel

It was time for one of those not-often walking trips uptown. Actually I didn't have to walk there this time, because Mr. Fixit was having lunch with a friend and dropped me off near the stores.

At the bookstore: calendars for half price (we were using a freebie in the kitchen, and I thought sea turtles were nicer than photos of recipes we won't make), and the November/December issue of Faith Today. I was hoping for the Jan/Feb issue, but it's not in the store yet.

At the consignment store: two things I was especially looking for, and that I hadn't been able to find at the thrift store. First, a knitted vest.

And then a grey cardigan. I tried on about ten different ones before settling on this wrap style. (I was feeling very picky, and the others were all too dark, too light, too small, too fuzzy, or too overpriced.)

I stopped at the grocery store and picked up emergency lettuce for Muffin, and some half-priced onion-poppyseed buns. That store always has the best clearance baking.

Mr. Fixit picked me up at the library, where I found a for-sale book about cooking like a cheap mid-century Francophone.

Which made me hungry enough that I came home and ate one of the buns with cream cheese. Bon appetit.

Day...three. (Part Two)

“Is there not glory enough in living the days given to us? You should know there is adventure in simply being among those we love and the things we love, and beauty, too.” ~~ Lloyd Alexander, The Black Cauldron

So...I said I would ruminate over the past year's post-midlife-clothes-crisis closet experiment.

I don't think the success of it has been in trying to wear radically different clothes (I'm not). It's in knowing more what I'm looking for at a certain time; why I bought two pullover sweaters on my last thrifting trip, instead of, maybe, buying a pair of pants (I have enough) or a dress that I might wear once or twice. Or instead of bypassing the clothes at all and heading for the books. I was looking for a plain navy sweater, and when I found a green henley-style one as well that matched a favourite scarf, and the green sweater turned out to be a dollar-deal...it was just icing on the clothes cake. A year ago, I was pretty random about what went into the mix; now I have more of a plan.

The second benefit, ironically, is that I'm more aware now of certain clothing brands and stores I hadn't paid attention to before. Longtime shopaholics would not understand this, but if you don't go looking at clothes much, of course you don't know what's out there and how things are changing. While I was looking the other way (or was hiding out in the book store), several Canadian clothing chains went belly-up, and others came in that I'd never heard of. I also noticed (I've posted about this before) that my default places to shop (like the discount store) have taken a dive in clothing quality. The t-shirts and sweaters might not have been great before, but now they mostly look like they'd last about two washings and then be...garbage. Like we've been talking about. So the past year has been an unexpected education, in different ways.

Initially I resisted the numbers aspect of Project 333 because I didn't want to get legalistic about it. I still don't think that setting a number limit on clothes is the best plan for everyone. For me it has helped in the same way that a "desert island" game might help someone else focus on what's important to them. If I knew that I had room in my mini-closet for only a couple of dresses, what would they look like? What would I wear them for? What kind of shoes or other things would I need to wear with them? Would I need skirts too, or would pants be enough? I don't wear shorts much outside the house in the summer...so having one or two pairs is plenty for me.  I'm not as crazy about turtlenecks as I used to be; but I might try the round necklines I've always avoided. I still can't wear white, and it's not just the lights in the changing rooms. And you know what I think about black...although I caved in this Christmas and found a fake-velvet midi skirt on the dollar rack. It was headed for Lydia's closet, but she decided she didn't want it, so I wore it with sweaters over the holidays. I think I've become more open to experimentation and change, although when something is a "no," it doesn't get a second chance.
The best thing, for me, is that all this came together around the time I turned 50. Big numerals there, people. 50 is not a bad thing. 50 means you are old enough to wear what you like because you're old enough to know that you like it.

Col. Jessup: I would appreciate it if he would address me as "colonel" or "sir." I believe I've earned it.
Judge Randolph: Defense counsel will address the witness as "colonel" or "sir."
Col. Jessup: [to Judge] I don't know what...kind of unit you're running here.
Judge Randolph: And the witness will address this court as "judge" or "your honor." I'm quite certain I've earned it. Take your seat, Colonel.

Stay tuned tomorrow for the number Four...

Clutter Free (Book Review)

Clutter Free: Quick and Easy Steps to Simplifying Your Space

by Kathi Lipp

Harvest House Publishers, 2015

Probably the worst time to read a decluttering book is the middle of December, and the worst place to do it is in your living room or wherever you put the majority of your Christmas decorations. Christmas, even if we don't buy lots of Stuff, is still, often, about Stuff. For our family, Stuff is the vintage collectibles that are part of our daily life, and the extra helping of them that we bring out at the holidays. Stuff is the extra Crockpot that we picked up at a yard sale in the summer, that is the same vintage and type as ours but looks nicer. We don't buy backups of every appliance (no extra toaster ovens sitting around), but we do pick up Crockpots. Stuff is the gifts that we will give each other, new or used. It's the four-pack of sticky tape I grabbed at Walmart (although I didn't buy any new giftwrap, and our stickers and cards came mostly from yard sales and charitable freebies). It's the several packages of variously-flavoured baking chips and two cans of Eagle Brand milk in the pantry; they're there, and we're going to use them. It's pretty hard to have Christmas without any extra Stuff. (I'll stop with the George Carlin intonation now.)

That said, I don't exactly identify with the shop-o-manic reader Kathi Lipp often seems to be addressing in this book. If you don't regularly go crazy at warehouse stores, or if you don't understand why she buys duplicates of things she already has at home, you may wonder what she has to say that you don't already know. 

Like the Bob Newhart "Stop It" skit she describes near the beginning, the real answer to clutter is "Don't do that." If something's going to cause financial or space problems, or otherwise make a mess of things, the sanest response is just not to do it. However, human beings don't always act sanely, and you may find yourself coping with your own or somebody else's past or present clutter problems. Lipp, being a Christian writer, would also point out that bad stewardship is a form of disobedience (and can include covetousness, dishonesty, and stealing), and that the hoarding of Stuff, which we might justify by calling it prudence, is not God's best for us. I appreciated her thought that simplicity is not all about "one size fits all." For instance, she has no problem with keeping a certain number of physical books around (whereas some clutter guides will happily assume that everything one wants to read can be gotten from the library). Lipp sees value in cultivating her interest and skill in cooking, and therefore spends time and space on that; on the other hand, as a poor seamstress, she has little use for a sewing machine. The takeaway I get from her book, rather than Newhart's stern "Stop It," is a gentler "It's Okay." It's okay to let go. It's okay not to let sharp advertising pull your dollars in the wrong direction. It's okay to say you're already okay (and don't need more).

If you need an "It's Okay" to help get things back on track, Clutter Free may speak to your heart.

"Harsh reality and bleak forecast": on stuff and shaming

The Newsweek website has a feature (from earlier this fall) on the high environmental and human cost of clothes production and consumption practices.

The outlook is not good. In fact, it's really bad and really depressing. Especially at this time of year when, more than anything, it's all buy-buy-buy. Reading a story like this that focuses on just one area of consumer craziness makes you not only feel bad about needing to buy winter boots, it raises the same questions about the rest of the stuff: cars, couches, Christmas gifts, postage stamps. When every choice seems to cause some kind of ethical turmoil, it's easy to give up even trying to make sense of it. You can get yourself to the point where every tissue is an issue.

But knowing that something is difficult doesn't absolve us from being aware, and doing what we can to be part of a solution rather than contribute more to the problem.

That was not a hypothetical list, by the way. We do have a car that has recently developed a safety issue. No two ways around it, our family needs a vehicle, and the days of us choosing a twenty-year-old used car are long gone. In choosing a replacement, our biggest limitation is cost. The most realistic choice is a small, easy-on-gas leased car, which we try to take good care of and use responsibly. 

As some of you know, our living room couch had its last spring last spring, and we've been sitting on the just-as-old love seat instead. In the realm of furniture, we have more options than we do with cars. We've previously bought several large furniture items from the thrift store, so that was one option. We also looked at couches at a family-run furniture store; that might not be recycling or saving the planet, but it's a locally-based business that deals fairly and stands behind what they sell. Finally we decided that we will move our downstairs couch upstairs, and the love seat downstairs, for the next while; it's the least expensive choice, and makes the most sense, especially considering that we just found out about the problem with our car.

Christmas gifts? I'm focusing on fair-trade items this year; not because I want to force my giftees to share my ideas on that, or to give them only baskets and coffee beans, but just because I found some things that I thought would make good gifts for those on my list. 

And there's not too much we can do about postage stamps. Except not buy too many of them.

When the whole world of stuff (and human rights and carcinogenic dyes and the environment and shopaholism and finding anything that's made to last) seems like a never-ending problem, it's easy to get overwhelmed by even small choices. But maybe those are the best places to start making the world a little better. We may not have much control over what our houses or cars are made of, or (these days) whether vehicles are overloaded with electronic stuff. But going down the line, some of us can make choices like "we don't really need a couch at all" or "we need something flexible like a futon couch"; if we do want a regular couch, we still have choices about where we shop, the quality we look for, and how plan to we take care of it. 

We can buy decent-quality new jeans so that they'll hold up longer (we hope), or get used ones from the thrift store, and  pass them on again if they're outgrown but still wearable. We can decide that we or our children need only one or two pairs of jeans at a time, so we're not buying and storing more than we or they can wear. 

We can make more radical decisions like "no plastic toys." Having lived through the past two decades with plastic trolls, Polly Pockets, and Duplo, I can say that that's not an easy decision and definitely not for everyone. But if you can make it work, I'd say that's worth a few boxes of tissues.

We can decide to grow our own tomatoes and lettuce. We can hang laundry. We can wear the same sweater for several years, instead of spending time and money on a lot of different ones. Oh...we're back to clothing now.

But maybe the issue of clothing is one area where we do have the chance to make some difference. What do you think?

What every woman needs: to stop lustening, stop listening.

Something worth reading today at The Vivienne Files: "12 Must-Have Items? Let's Consider..."

If you read right to the end, you'll see these blunt words:

"Remember, these lists are written in order to make you feel inadequate, and to drive you to go shopping."

This applies not only to lists of must-have clothing, but to homeschool items, organizational tools, and toys of all kinds.

Janice (at The Vivienne Files) points out that not only does every woman in the world not need black pumps, but, in some places, she might not even need shoes. Someone else recently posted about how we all live in certain bubbles that make up our own reality. If our bubbles are too small, we can end up seeming callous or just ridiculous when we start listing "needs."

One of the Vivienne commenters pointed out that women's real needs are love, a way to keep clean, and "a way to get around--a bus, a bike, a camel, a Bugatti." I can think of a few more things to add to that list, but it's a start. To look at it the other way around, those of us who have those needs met (along with the other essentials like food and a safe place to live) are already well-furnished.

The list of must-haves...when we're told (or shown in photos) the ways that we don't measure up...who is writing that list? And why are we still listening?

From the archives: Wendell Berry on the complexity of simplifying

First posted October, 2009. From this interview with Jeff Fearnside in The Sun Magazine. 

Berry: They didn’t have electricity. All their technology was nineteenth century. But they were satisfied, and they lived a great life — they made a great life. It was a work of art.

Fearnside: So their answer was to simplify their lives so that they required less income and could do the things they were passionate about.

Berry: They reduced costs, but when you do that, you make your life more complex. It’s much simpler to live by shopping.

On the true cost of things

Mr. Fixit is working on a vintage stereo amplifier that was in nice shape on the outside, but needed a complicated electronic repair to make it work properly. He discovered an original advertisement for the amp on someone's website, and it appears that it sold for $389 in 1961.

 And that's why some vintage items are scarce. It's not only their age, it's that relatively few were made, because hardly anybody could afford to pay almost $400 for a stereo component...not even a whole stereo system, just the amp...in 1961. You could buy a used car for that much, back then, or a whole lot of groceries.

One of our two current T.V.'s is from the 1990's. Mr. Fixit says that it would have cost about $300 new, but so would a television set twenty years before that. $300 for a television in the 1970's was a lot of money, but on the other hand, you expected it to last longer. Most people in 2016 are not watching shows on a 1990's T.V., if they're watching them on a T.V. at all. We're just weird that way.

In the 1960's and '70's, stereo components were luxury items. So, to some extent, were $300 televisions. So were a lot of other fancy things. We admired our friend's backyard swimming pool, but understood that not everybody could have one. My Barbie Country Camper cost a whole $10.99 in 1973, and that was a big Christmas present. I had the camper, and somebody else had a Barbie house. I took my camper and my dolls to her house, and we played together. Not everybody had everything.When our family's T.V. stopped working, we didn't buy a new one right away; we borrowed a portable set from a relative and perched it on top of the big one until we could get the old television fixed or replaced. (This happened more than once, and I have the photos of our stacked T.V. sets to prove it.)

There is an understanding that we've lost, over many years of almost everything being so available, so cheap, and that is that it's okay not to have a house or closet full of everything, all the time. That if you're fortunate enough to acquire something special--a painting, let's say, or a very good cooking tool (like a great knife), or a beautiful rose bush, or a $60 bag of organic coffee, you take care of it, give it some pride of place, make it into a ritual or a specialty (hopefully not an idol), share the enjoyment of it with others. And if you don't have any of those things, maybe you have something else; maybe you're the one with the good stereo or the fish tank or the big yard.

I think that's why ideas like minimalist wardrobes are catching on.  If you have a favourite coat, you wear it a lot, maybe every day, and the question of someone else's newer or nicer coat doesn't enter into it. Eventually, you notice that it's time for a new one, and you decide to go coat-shopping, but probably not before that. I think it's the equivalent of trimming our Christmas lists down to "Two storied pencil box. Flexible flier sled. Box of paints. Princess and Curdie."

What don't we need to make us happy?

As a postscript, I knew there were definitely too many things in the world when I found out that a particular large giftware corporation sells model buildings based on Jan Karon's Mitford novels.

Shopping, how or when, sometimes why

Courtney Carver has a new post up this week about stepping away from "shopping," however you define that. One of her audience members told her, "I couldn't do the tiny wardrobe thing. I love shopping."

Do you love shopping? Shopping, what kind of shopping? Mindless shopping? Necessary shopping? Is there a line between what used to be called "doing the marketing" and just "going shopping?" Does it matter how much money you spend? I grew up in a culture heavy on T.V. ads and giant catalogues, that did encourage recreational (or sometimes therapeutic) shopping, from making long Christmas lists to day-long mall trips, flea market jaunts, and compulsory stops at any souvenir stand. As adults, we have had our own struggles with stuff becoming too cheap, too available to us, too much flowing in and not enough reason or return on it. In the last couple of years, we have let go of a surprising number of things that were once very important to us. We stopped feeling that those things needed us to hold on to them.

And yet I feel like my childhood souvenir shopping (how many miniature canoes and postcards does one kid need?), and our middle-aged struggles with "how much," are comparatively small, when I hear the stories of other people who need to make large changes. If I say "I love shopping too," maybe that means something different to a woman who spends hundreds on a mall haul. Years ago I remember a teacher scolding our whole class for something, I can't remember what, some kind of low performance. I was very concerned and went to the teacher afterwards and asked what I could do to improve. He waved me off and said, "You're doing fine. I just wanted to worry the slackers." Did you ever notice that happening, say on an email list or in a group where you have to tell people to cut back on chatter or fix some common problem? Often you will get apologies from the ones who weren't causing the problem at all. But this shopping and stuff thing shouldn't be about comparison; it should be about figuring out your own limits, your own "enough."

I went shopping yesterday, while Mr. Fixit got Lydia started on painting the front porch. It was partly recreational and partly with intention. Also partly for exercise. I walked twenty minutes "uptown," and navigated road construction to get across a busy intersection to the shops. As I crossed a temporary walkway, an older woman walking ahead of me was startled by a loud piece of machinery and turned around so fast we almost collided. We had a nice two-minute talk about dust and roads while we got back to where we were going.

I went into Ten Thousand Villages to check out an item I'd seen online, something I want to save up for but didn't want to waste time planning for if the real-life version wasn't right. (It was. I'll be back.) I briefly scanned the promo books outside the bookstore, and they had Lila on sale, but it wasn't a day for buying books.  I noticed a "for rent" sign in the window of a bakery where I sometimes stop for coffee in an effort to avoid the insidious American franchise across the road.  The bakery won't be the first casualty of the uptown upheaval.

I crossed the dug-up road again to get to the small indoor mall. I bought one cosmetic item at the drugstore, browsed through one clothing store to see if they had any fall sweaters yet (I like to plan ahead), and then went into the grocery store where I bought a jar of Alfredo sauce for an easy-but-festive dinner, and some marked-down bakery cookies for dessert.  I didn't even look at the magazines (a place that's easy to blow money away).The cashier at the express counter was so unusually friendly that I thought I must have met her somewhere else, but she was just as cheerful to the man behind me, so I guess not.

And that was it...plus a twenty-minute walk home, enjoying people's gardens along the way, and coming home to the porch and the steps all finished, thank you Lydia. If you subtract the walking time, I was in the shops for just over half an hour.

Was that marketing, research, or entertainment? All of the above?

Does the picture change if I just go pick those things up at the superstore? (Except you can't get fair-trade gifts there. Or, probably, a copy of Lila either.)

Does it change if I decide to go uptown and spend half an hour browsing every day? (I don't; it's maybe once a month unless I have some special errand.)

Does an occasional shopping trip, with the small things I buy, actually make a difference to a struggling core area? Will the bakery hold out longer because of my occasional coffee and blueberry scone? Honestly, I don't know. Shopping isn't always a bad thing.It isn't always just about what you bring home; sometimes it's about how you're going to use those things, what they're for, where you bought them. I bought a necklace at a yard sale last month, and when I asked the woman the price, she said I could put any amount in the jar, because all the money was going to support the hospice that her mother is in. I am not going to forget that woman. I still think about what it must have felt like to sit there and keep saying that, and see the jar fill up for something good out of bad.

Sometimes I love shopping.

From the Archives: Charlotte Mason on how not to be a ShoppingZilla (and read to the end, it's more than shopping)

First posted January 2015. Based on Charlotte Mason's book Ourselves, Book II, "The Scope of Will."

If you don't keep them out, they will sneak in.

 "If we keep the will in abeyance, things and affairs still present themselves, but we allow instead of choosing. We allow a suggestion from without, which runs with our nature, to decide for us. There would not seem to be much difference between the two courses; but most ruined lives and ruined families are the result of letting allowance do duty for will-choice." 

Does that mean you have to go to a lot of fuss every time you make a choice? What if you just make a typical choice for your own lifestyle? Do you have to refuse everything that is "normal?"

"But, you will say, he has not chosen at all! Yes, he has; he has chosen with modesty and good sense to follow the lead set by the common sense of his class."

It's worse to go in with no ideas and let yourself be "sold" something, than to go in with a good but not eye-popping idea and stick to it.

"Or, again, there is the man whose conceit leads him to defy general usage and startle the world with checks and ties, feeling that he is a mighty independent fellow. He is merely obeying the good conceit he has formed of himself, and his daring ventures come of allowance and not of choice." 

If you're not an EverydayZilla, you won't be a BrideZilla.

"The question of a lady's shopping is only a by-issue, but it is well worth considering; for, alas! the shopping scene at Madame Mantalini's is of too frequent occurrence, and is as damaging to the nerves and morale of the purchaser as to those of the weary shopwomen."

Again, it's more than shopping.

"Are we going after the newest and cheapest things in morals and religion? are we picking up our notions from the penny press or from the chance talk of acquaintances? If we are, they are easily come by, but will prove in the end a dear bargain."