There are clothes for painting, for gardening, for beaching, sneeching, kayakying, slopping, and flopping. Clothes for swanning, for preening, for silking about and feeling glorious.
95% of my wardrobe is second hand. Underwear and shoes are the main things I'd buy new, and occasionally a treat such as a dress I got when I turned 50 (and I've thrashed it). Because I have been op shopping (thrifting) since I was 13, I realized early on that I could have a rather interesting and fun wardrobe for very little. Living on the North Shore, Auckland, in the 1980's was not the kindest of places for those without money. At school I was teased for having 'the wrong shoes' and the right ones were really expensive. I pretended not to care. I said I really liked them, that I wanted to look like Ronald Mcdonald. The bully bitches didn't even crack a smile!
Even in 1986 a pair of shorts from avant garde New Zealand label, Zambesi, was insanely expensive (more than what mum paid in rent for a week). I would sometimes go and look at the clothes tentatively, bu the iciness emanating from the sales assistant usually froze me out the door in less than five minutes.
I remember a girl from school wearing these beautiful Zambesi shorts to our rowing camp when I was 15. I admired them, and she said she had saved up with money she earned from her part time job. Then she saw the look of confusion on my face and amended that her parents did 'help her out a little bit'.
What she spend on one pair of shorts probably could have clothed me for most of the year! It was interesting to know how poor we were compared to others, but I didn't feel jealous or angry. I felt a bit embarrassed for her really, it was obvious she'd never gone without a thing in her life.
I was used to going without, and I mostly didn't mind because I also loved reading, writing and drawing. When I discovered the flea market on Sunday mornings in Takapuna I had a whole world open up to me. The rich girls could wear $400 shorts and I would wear a $4 green tapestry tea dress from the 1940's. The rich girls could play hippy while it suited them, and I would embrace everything from vintage hippy skirts to an eventual passion for old lace petticoats teamed with Blundstones (slip on boot from Aussie).
The thrill of the hunt was a big part of it. In the 1980's and early 90's you could still get incredible vintage items for the price of a coffee. I had items from the 40's through to the 70's and a bit of polyester didn't bother me in my early 20's. These days I recoil from it as if I'd been licking foam rubber!
Too much bro'
For awhile (in my early 20's) I lived above an op shop and by the time I left I had to donate back half of what I'd bought. Op shopping was an obsession. It was only around 12 years ago that I really clicked as to how much money I was spending each time, how often I was going in, and how much I could save if I didn't indulge.
I cut back, made rules for myself, watched videos on Minimalism, read a Marie Kondo book (concluded that she possibly had a type of mental illness that was soothed by excessive order). I decluttered, re-cluttered, sold and bought. I made up a number of items to aim for a sensible size wardrobe and shoved everything else into big bags. I tried to organize a clothing swap to raise money for a charity. I would limit how much I could spend, then I'd limit how long I could spend it an op shop.
It all worked a little bit for short periods of time, but the addiction is there. I have to see, to touch all the things, to assure myself I'm not missing anything.
So this month I decided on a No Spend Challenge when it comes to clothes (and dolls, but that's another story). Nothing from op shops or new for three months.
Well. It's only been 19 days and I am finding it hard. I use op shopping (for clothes mostly) very soothing. I really enjoy touching the fabric, I like singing along to Coast FM, or Magic, whatever oldies station they have on. I like the feeling of camaraderie that exists in a way that does not in other shops. I do not need any more clothes. It is not 1986, and I do have some expensive and beautiful things as well as my primarily thrifted delights. This isn't about need. So what is it about?
Is it entertainment? Well possibly. There is the good old capitalist consumerist crap going on with this kind of addiction, but it's also a way to be in a community minded space without doing too much.
If I'm not getting a dopamine hit from the actual buying, it's sometimes just nice to be around like-minded people. Sometimes I find myself smiling at lovely plates or crazy ornaments. I don't want them, but even looking has done something in my brain.
These days, I am still walking into an Op Shop, but it's not very satisfying as I know I can't trawl through the clothing racks. I have to sell all the things I'm not wearing first. Phew. I am asking myself now: What Am I Looking For?
I don't mean an extra teacup or a picture of ballerinas. What am I longing for? If it's connection with others, or a creative outlet, then how can I get that without needing my Op Shop fix?
I justified much of my buying due to the fact that I can re-sell for a profit, but if there is too much sitting there and I keep on buying, then it's a false economy.
So wish me luck ducks! I don't know if I can really succeed in doing three months with no op shop or new clothing buys, but I'll give it a go. I'm still allowed to buy underwear if needed, and one pair of decent winter shoes or boots. This blog entry is here to attest to my intentions. Do you struggle with op shopping too? What's your weakness? Do you ever question your op shop habit? What will you replace your op-shopping with?
As for me, I've started drawing more since I stopped buying clothes. I'm doing this blog entry (and it must have been at least a year since I last wrote here). If you decide to change your habits, how will you make yourself accountable? Hmm. A good question ...
Comments
Post a Comment