That’s it, I thought, sitting on my bedroom floor surrounded by bags and suitcases and backpacks full of clothes. No more shopping. I refuse. This madness must stop. I have enough jeans, skirts, tops, dreses, shoes, sweaters, bras, panties to last me for a life time. They are all wearable and look nice, in fact, I realised that I have never thrown out anything because it was falling apart. Simply that I didn’t, for whatever reason, wear it any more.
Anyway. I have clothes and shoes suitable for weddings, for conference presentations, for teaching, for studying, for meetings, for bumming around on the weekends. I. Do. Not. Need. Any. More. Clothes. It is immoral, it drains my time, my purse, my mind, my energy. Burn, Halifax Shopping Centre and Mic MacMall. Die, Beyond the Rack. H&M, go and open a branch in Hell. You too, Smart Set, Garage, American Eagle, Gap, Aldo, yes, you too Thrift Store. Especially you. All of you. I want nothing more to do with any of you. Set me free.
And as for you lot, you army of fashion-bloggers, dim-witted slaves of the evil fashion behemoth, please stop it. Please stop taking mediocre photos of yourselves in new/weird/ugly clothes and blogging about price tags. You are insane, and you are feeding the insanity. Go find something useful do, like opening a savings account for your old age.
Speaking of saving, I will admit that it was not the financial horror of student life which forged my resolve to Stop Buying Clothes, but rather the physical fatigue of dragging around, arranging and rearranging bags of clothes, folding and unfolding, closets and drawers and hangers. Plus the mental fatigue of looking at each item and thinking – do I need this? Where does it go? It’s a light cottony thing, so perhaps I should put it away – but then again, maybe it’ll look nice with a cardigan and thick tights? Oh God, somebody tell me what to with this grey cotton tunic bought on sale from Zellers- will I wear it enough to justify its inclusion on the middle shelf, or should it be moved to the high shelf? Or the back shelf?
So, I was talking to a friend last night who had just moved and also found herself beseiged by sacks and suitcases of clothes, and we decided to form the Anti-Shopping League. The principle is simple: whenever either of us randomly, magically, without knowing quite how, found oursleves in a shop, fingering and touching clothes, wondering whether to buy this or not, whether it will look good with this or not, whether we should get it or not, we will take a moment to call and text the other. The other will encourage us to step away from clothes rack at once, get out of the shop, and offer to do something together: take a walk, grab a cup of coffee, go to the public library, cook a nice dish, gossip, whatever. There are so many pleasurable things in life, that shopping need not even count.