Quitting sugar. Going to the gym at least four times a week. Saying yes to every invitation extended my way. My New Year's resolutions have always been, shall we say, ambitious. But while most have come to a natural end around mid Jan (as if I want to entertain your parents' neighbours who are over from the UK for an evening), there has been one resolution that I saw right through until the bitter end: quitting clothes shopping for an entire year.
But first, a bit of context. When it comes to my clothes, I'm not typically one for expensive labels yet my spending was still spiralling out of control – and not just on clothes. Over the course of ten years I had gradually racked up a staggering $27k in debt and I had nothing to show for it except a wardrobe groaning under the weight of yet another ASOS flash sale and a very faded tan.
My debt cast a shadow over my life. Every purchase I made was tinged with guilt, every plan for the future was marred with the realisation that I was spending money that wasn't my own. What had started as a financial lifeline while I was away at uni was now an albatross around my neck and breaking my bad habits seemed like an impossible feat.
And so, one balmy New Year's Eve, I finally decided to stop burying my head in the sand and address my dire financial situation head on. Not only was I going to start living within my means, I was going to clear my debt once and for all. What's more, I was going to do it within a year – and culling my clothes shopping habit was my first step to financial solvency. Ambitious, no?
Predictably, I didn't quite succeed in clearing my debt in 12 short months. But, astonishingly, I did manage to make a $20k dent in it and am happy to report that my bank balance is now comfortably back in the black. Heck, I don't like to toot my own horn but I even have a bit of savings squirrelled away.
Realistically, before embarking on this journey I thought that quitting clothes shopping might help me clear a few bucks from my credit card. What I hadn't banked on was it forever changing my relationship with both myself and money…
I had been using new clothes as a crutch
While I wasn't fashioning my latest Topshop haul into an actual walking stick, I was using new clothes to mask my anxiety over social and work events. Removing the luxury of being able to swathe myself in an identical Breton striped top to the 27 I already owned forced me to acknowledge that I actually lacked confidence. This was a massive revelation for me – second only to the fact that retail therapy isn't the only way to deal with social anxiety.
That [insert garment] will not change your life
Before I kicked off my resolution, I had been on the hunt for The Perfect Leather Jacket. This jacket was going to transform me from lanky wallflower to the epitome of cool. My sex appeal was going to skyrocket and my boss would probably give me a promotion purely on the account of me being so achingly stylish. In short, this jacket was going to be the making of me. Unfortunately, I discovered the elusive jacket of my dreams midway through my resolution. I couldn't buy it – them's the rules – but if you asked me to describe the jacket to you today I wouldn't be able to. Suffice to say, you make you cool – not the clothes you wear.
I became a savvier shopper
Ironic, I know. But around four months into my shopping hiatus, my lovely workmates chipped in to buy me a David Jones gift card for my birthday (was this cheating? Possibly yes, but it was my resolution, so humour me). For weeks I whiled away lunch hours walking through the womenswear department toying with what purchase would provide my wardrobe with the most impactful update it so desperately needed. Ultimately, I deliberated for so long that I was able to buy all four items I had shortlisted when they went into the sale instead of just one. As a result, I no longer pay full price for anything. Ever. The world won't stop spinning if the item you're coveting never gets reduced and you don't get to buy it.
Saving money is addictive
Slowly but surely, my bank balance started to feel the effects of my shopping ban. Soon, transferring cash into my savings account was giving me a bigger buzz than any purchase ever had and it kick-started a savings habit I still abide by today. I had always lamented the fact that I had no money but after devising a strict budget and sticking to it, I realised how much of my disposable income I had been frittering away. I started selling unwanted clothes on eBay (if I wasn't wearing them now without the constant trickle of new threads, I never would). Hell, I even ditched my morning flat white ($3.50 a day over the course of a year is over $1,200, people!) for the cause.
I became more stylish
While the importance of facing up to my financial situation wasn't lost on me, I didn't really want to look like a total dag doing it if I could help it. So I started mixing it up when pulling my outfits together in a bid to disguise the fact that I was basically wearing the same handful of clothes every day on rotation. I even repaired clothes that I did like but hadn't been able to wear on account of them being ever-so-slightly damaged or missing a button, ruing the day I hadn't just done that sooner instead of replacing them with more clothes as I went.
There's more to life than clothes
Sure, most people already know this, but this was a lesson I learnt the hard way. Removing the exhausting rollercoaster of want-want-want followed by the inevitable buyers remorse has been liberating. No longer being a weapon of massive consumption (credit to the literary great Lily Allen for the pun) has freed up both my time and money. Now that my self-imposed shopping has been lifted, every purchase I make is pre-empted with the question: do I need it? And the truth is, I really don't.