In one of my favorite pictures, I am standing on my family's driveway wearing a navy blue embroidered tank dress, white beads, white sandals, and carrying a little white purse. I am holding the purse Sartorialist-style, handle slung onto my forearm, full of childhood insouciance.
I am three years old.
I guess you could say my love affair with style began early.
When I was 11, brightly colored pocket t-shirts reigned supreme at my elementary school and I had ten in my wardrobe: red, orange, yellow, green, turquoise, navy blue, purple, brown, black and white. By the time I hit high school, I realized that I could either eat lunch with the money my parents gave me, or go to the mall and score a $5 hat or a $10 plaid skirt from Express. By college, my wardrobe spilled over into the space allocated to my roommate, who (fortunately) grinned good-naturedly at my absurd excess as I stored tubs of clothing under my extra-long twin bed.
Now at the age of 31, my wardrobe covers one entire wall of the tiny bedroom I share with my partner, E. I have a double-hung closet packed with the following:
- 100+ tops
- 15 blazers/casual jackets
- 92 skirts
- 14 pairs of flats
- 43 pairs of heels
- 10 pairs of sneakers (fashion and athletic)
- 23 scarves
- 19 pairs of sandals/flip-flops
In a dresser next to the closet, I store the following (not a complete list):
- 50+ pairs of socks
- 42 pairs of tights
- 56 pairs of underwear
- 37 camisoles in different colors
- 65 jersey t-shirts (dressy and casual)
- 8 short sleeve cardigans
- 17 pairs of pajama bottoms
- 4 pairs of shorts
On the wall next to the dresser, I have built an Elfa storage system (intended for the inside of a closet) to hold the following:
- 74 dresses
- 32 pairs of pants
- 14 pairs of jeans
- 17 long-sleeve cardigans
- 24 thin sweaters
- 47 thick sweaters
- 12 clutch purses
On the wall of the bedroom and inside the closet, there are 29 handbags and totes.
In the hall closet, I have stored the following:
- 14 pairs of boots
- 9 winter coats (including three down coats)
- 23 spring/fall weight coats
- 3 suede jackets
- 4 denim jackets
Looking at this list, you might be tempted to make some claims about me: I’m probably up to my ears in debt, I’m compensating for something missing in my life, I’m a hoarder, I’ve got deep-seated issues with money, I probably need to talk to a therapist. Still others of you might shrug nonchalantly and say, “Whatever, you like fashion. So what?” Still others of you might look at the excess and shrink away silently, recognizing your own closet in my overflowing one.
The truth is, other than graduate school loans (which I pay toward regularly), I’m not in debt. I have a great relationship with my family and wonderful, supportive friends. I’m happily married to a partner I love, and we have saved enough money for a down payment on a 2-bedroom condo in Boston, a hefty chunk of change for those of you who know Boston area real estate. I don’t have hoarding tendencies and routinely purge my closet of three or four full garbage bags every year. I am a huge fan of therapy and have used it to address a number of issues in my life, so if this were one that needed it, I would go happily.
The plain truth is that I am a woman who loves clothing. I love expressing myself through what I wear. I love fabric and color and experimenting with different styles. I like to make my own clothing and alter existing pieces. I love beading necklaces and creating wearable art. I am also a bargain hunter: few of the pieces in my copious wardrobe cost me more than $40; most were under $20. I thrift shop regularly and I scour magazines and peek at store window displays and sit in cafes to people-watch to get ideas on what to wear. I never buy anything unless it’s on sale.
Complicating matters even further, I'd be hard pressed to find more than a handful of people who don't in some way support my addiction to clothing. I contribute to the United States economy. I am cutely dressed. I am educated. I have a great career that I love. I am clearly not in over my head since I’m saving. And besides, all women love clothes, right?
For a long time, this was enough for me. Stopping into the Goodwill on Monday afternoons to treasure hunt felt harmless and fun; after all, I could be out boozing or drugging, right? There’s nothing insidious about finding a Calvin Klein embroidered dress for $6.99. Nothing bad about finding an Anthropologie or Marc Jacobs skirt for $4.49. In fact, it’s sort of criminal to demonize my ability to find a butter-soft, flared leather skirt for $5.99. Whiling away entire Saturdays shopping on Newbury Street or the North End is a perfectly acceptable use of my time since I always find well-priced, seriously amazing stuff.
Slowly, though, I began to feel guilty even walking in to a store. Really, I didn’t need anything else. I had almost every color of every item I could possibly want. I had interesting pieces that I had found in other countries. I had pieces I had repurposed into funky new creations. I had shoes that I had never worn. I had pants with store tags dangling. Why was I looking for more? Even it were only $9 or $14 at the Goodwill, why did I buy it?
And on Labor Day weekend, something snapped. The last weekend of summer dawned bright and sunny, and I was lying on my couch reading fashion blogs online. That weekend, a popular community fashion site had gathered its most active bloggers together in New York for a conference, the first of its kind. The bloggers were predominantly white, from all around the country and all took pictures of themselves daily to document their outfits. It’s a practice that is gaining attention from the fashion world at large since these everyday fashionistas typically create outfits from clothing drawn from thrift stores, chain retailers, discount retailers, and a few high-end pieces mixed in with a lot of DIY flair. The community fashion site sponsoring the conference is one of the largest devoted to hosting pictures of the bloggers at the front of this grassroots movement.
So there I was, browsing the site that had been set up to follow the conference and I realized something: these women had traveled from across the country to New York City in order to shop. There seemed to be other conference events: talking about blogging, some DIY projects, styling for a high-end label, but mainly the main events of the conference were centered around finding and buying stuff. Thrift shopping and boutique shopping and fast-fashion shopping, and perusing the many gifts that had been donated to them by clothing companies who are starting to realize the lucrative potential of reaching out to a fashion blogger with an online following.
Now I will be the first to point out that there is nothing inherently wrong with shopping. There is also nothing wrong with what any of these bloggers are doing: to each her own. It was more of a catalyst for me to reassess my own life goals. Addiction counselors often ask, “What have you not done because you were drinking?” and for me, the question is similar, “What have I not done because I was shopping?”
As I lay there, I realized that I put aside so much of what I want to do because it’s difficult, and for me, stopping into a store is fun and easy. Whiling away afternoons digging through thrift stores or the sale sections of my favorite retailers is relaxing for me. I feel fulfilled when I find a piece of clothing at a good price. I feel like I’ve done something worthwhile. I feel successful when someone compliments an outfit I’ve put together or admires my sense of style.
And that is a problem. If the easiest way for me to gain affirmation is through purchasing clothing and ornamenting myself, what is it worth? At what point would my ingrained love of clothing and shoes and styling turn into the main thing that defined me? If that were the case, would I be comfortable with that?
As I saw it, there were two paths to finding some purpose:
- Embrace the shopping and fashion styling and do as these bloggers had done and let my style be my brand. Pursue that fully, rather than lingering on the sidelines being (yet another) woman with a shopping habit.
- Cultivate other sides of myself that I had let wane for the love of shopping. Discover what I loved to do after work and on Saturdays that in no way related to purchasing another skirt, dress, or pair of shoes that I surely didn’t need.
I chose the latter.
This Labor Day, September 6, 2009, marks the beginning of a year-long ban on buying clothing, shoes, or accessories. For those of you who know me, you probably think this isn’t possible (and I wouldn’t fault you for thinking that). To that end, my partner, E has set up a pool to throw your vote into when I might break. If I win, I will use all the money in the pool and my outstanding bargain hunting skills to purchase gorgeous, high-end suits that I will donate to Dress for Success, an amazing non-profit that outfits low-income women for job interviews. If you win, half the money will go to the Dress for Success suit fund and the other half will go to you.
So come on! Do you think a shopaholic can truly reform? Follow me on the journey and find out.
