But instagram made me buy it!
Low-buy? No-buy? Bye-buy
My recent post, Resolutions for the silly and the goofy, outlined the goals I set myself for 2025 (eat more pasta, buy less shit, be braver). I wrote about how self-betterment has been co-opted into something miserable and unattainable, and why we should made space for resolutions that are purely pleasure-based. But I also wanted to address the consumerism mindset that I’ve slowly been sucked into over the past few years, and change the way I think about buying.
For the past few years (since I started earning a little more), I’ve shifted away from buying fast fashion and focused on more sustainable, better-made clothing from small businesses. Or Vinted bargains. Or higher-end brands, which does not necessarily mean sustainable. Which, sure, is better than the Zara and H&M I used to buy as a twenty-one year old in her first office job, but also more expensive, draining a hole in my finances and filling up my wardrobe with beautiful things that I then forget I own. And it’s not good for our planet. It once felt like growth, but now I think it’s become an issue.
A few years ago, I went through some health stuff that (probably) permanently changed my body, so a lot of my clothes no longer fit. I also, after years of trial and error, finally discovered what I actually enjoy wearing and what I’m going to reach for time and time again (essentially: if it’s tight or uncomfortable, I will never wear it, no matter how beautiful it is). Combined with a greater awareness of the ethical and environmental costs of fast fashion, all this felt like a justification for buying new or preloved clothing. I love expressing myself through what I wear, I get a lot of joy and validation from friends complimenting my style. But I have observed this habit slowly grow into something that feels compulsive and unjustifiable - I have more than I need, and instead of focusing on what I own, I focus on what I want to own, and the person I might be once I have it.
There are some triggers behind it, I think. Health/body stuff aside, I have spent the past four years far more online than ever before. A large part of this is/was for my professional career, which required me to be chronically online. An even larger part of this is becuase, as a writer, it feels more and more compulsory to have an online presence, which requires constant maintenance. When I won the MerkyBooks prize in 2019, I was on the verge of deleting instagram altogether. I just never used it, and I found it boring. But winning the prize made me look at my account differently - it’s the only social media account I’m really active on, and it became the sole way for me to promote my writing. And once it felt like a requirement, my relationship with it changed. There’s a certain writer’s lifestyle that exists online, which is more about promoting the aesthetic of writing rather than the writing itself. I personally find this disingenuous and try very hard not to replicate it - although who knows, I’m sure there are people who would disagree. Instagram has (incorrectly) taught me that to be a writer you have be cool, and to be cool, you have to look the part. There is so much more I have to say on the fallacy of the writer’s aesthetic, but that deserves a post of its own one day. The point is that I, like everyone else, am influenced by social media, which is advertising on steroids. Little by little, my feed became a revolving door of beautiful, expensive clothing modelled by beautiful, expensive people. And I’m not immune! I love beautiful things! I am a magpie, drawn to the shiny glamour of silk and linen and ethically made this and small, woman-owned that. I have discovered amazing brands and artists thanks to the all-knowing algorithm, and it’s been wonderful - but it’s a slippery slope. I buy more clothes now - yes, I could blame instagram like the title of this piece does, but it really boils down to me and the choices I made. And the truth is that even buying sustainably or second-hand is not, in fact, sustainable if you never stop doing it. This year, I want to stop doing it.
Not 100% stop, I should caveat (!). I love finding unique or vintage pieces, I love supporting small businesses, I love adding joy and creativity to my wardrobe. But I need to shift away from mindless consumerism to something that is manageable, affordable and slower. I’ve heard of no-buy before, and for reasons that I’ll talk about soonish, this is not going to be possible for me this year. I’m not sure I really want to live a no-buy life either, actually. But I am drawn to the idea of low-buy year, so that’s what I am going to be trying, and documenting, here.
When you google ‘low-buy’, it churns up hundreds of articles with dozens of definitions. Obviously it’s all in the name - reduce all non-essential purchases - but you can sort of make up the rules to suit your lifestyle. The idea is to meaningfully change your relationship with consumerism, which is precisely what drew me to the challenge in the first place. 99% of my non-essential purchases are clothes (the only thing I buy more than clothes are books, but I count books as essentials) and so my low-buy is going to be very simple: only one new item of clothing per month, which amounts to twelve per year. That feels more ethical, more manageable, more in line with the values I want to live up to without sucking the joy and creativity out of my style.
A few quick caveats. When I say ‘new’, I am counting second-hand or vintage. If it’s new to my wardrobe, it’s a new item of clothing. Otherwise, I could spend a lifetime scrolling through Vinted, enjoying the dopamine hit of a bargainous find. It’s like treasure hunting, it’s addictive, it must stop. Additionally, this won’t apply if I genuinely need something that I do not have or cannot mend. So if I suddenly need a proper winter coat becuase I have lost, or somehow completely shredded mine, and I’ve already bought something that month, I will still be buying the winter coat. I can’t see a world where this happens but I thought I should put the disclaimer in here just in case. This applies to holidays too - I love visiting local shops and markets for souvenir pieces, but I’m going to have to be very mindful of how I approach that now. I’m very tempted to give myself an extra ‘holiday allowance’ or something equally unhinged-sounding, but I don’t know if that counts as cheating or not. It feels dirty. We’ll see. I think I need to unfollow a lot of brands and influencers.
I’m going to be honest about it too! I mean, I could lie on here and you would never know, but I am serious about changing my consumption habits. I need to buy less shit. At the end of each month I’ll do a round-up detailing how I’m doing and if I have fucked up (spoiler - I already have. It was a complete accident!) and what, if anything, changes. I hope you will follow along and if you’re doing something similar please tell me! I am deeply curious!
A quick favour. I love writing these posts, and I intend to do them for free for as long as I can. If you enjoyed reading this, forward it to a friend (or three) who you think might like it too. It helps massively, because validation from strangers is truly the only thing that makes the horrors bearable for me.
PS: If you spotted a typo, no you didn’t.