My First Real Temptation: AKA "The Skirt"

A few weeks ago, my husband and I attended a "block party" event in nearby Pasadena. The shops and restaurants in the downtown area known as "Old Town Pasadena" were opening their doors and offering free champagne, appetizers, wine, and raffle prizes. Free stuff, we're there.

Of course they weren't doing it out of the good of their hearts or to dish with the neighbors, it was a way of promoting the businesses that weren't doing so well. I marked our flyer with all the places to hit, and we arrived early to get a good parking spot.

It wasn't a trick, and we had a good time visiting some of our favorite restaurants for free wine and food samples. But in one couture clothing store that I'd never stepped foot in, my husband pulled out a blouse and said, "This would look good on you. You should try it on."

Say what? We'd gone in for the spicy tuna on crackers, not to look at the enticing, spell-inducing clothing. The blouse was so pretty. It was a piece of art, really. Literally, an artist had painted these gorgeous designs that were printed on the clothing. And it was my favorite colors. I knew it would look good on me before I even tried it on.

You should know that my husband watching me try on clothes in a clothing store is about as rare as... pandas mating in the wild. You know, like when Richard Gere buys Julia Roberts a new wardrobe in Pretty Woman? Not really our usual mode of interaction. But the salesgirl quickly had me in $150 jeans that fit really well, and the blouse looked really good, and... I looked great. When she said, "you're not going to buy it?" I think she was truly baffled. She really couldn't understand the madness. I didn't mention The Compact.

But I knew I could live without the blouse, even the super cute jeans. But THEN... my husband pulled out the skirt. The skirt of my dreams. This same designer had put together a patchwork of beautiful fabrics into this skirt which was exactly the kind of thing I wear, only a lot nicer and a lot more expensive. It fit perfectly, it would look great with my boots, I knew I would wear it all the time... The cost? $200.

This is a price I've never paid for a skirt. The skirts I bought before I started The Compact and still wear usually cost about $50. They're stylish, but not trendy, and will last for years. So $200 was way outside my budget, even without the complication of my commitment to The Compact.

The interesting thing was that I noticed how my brain was working. I was starting to try to figure out how to GET THE SKIRT. What if... I waited until it was marked down? Not an option, it was the last one left, and just happened to be my size. It would probably be sold by the next day. What if... I asked for it as a holiday gift? Too much money to ask my husband to spend. What if... I just bought it, to heck with The Compact? Who would know?

Literally, this is what my crazy brain was doing. My first time in a clothing store all year, the first time I've tried anything on, and I was in a full gotta-have-it, can't-live-without-it, frothing-at-the-mouth consumer frenzy.

I did manage to walk away from the skirt. I was very proud of myself. It flitted through my brain a few times over the next couple of days, first offering itself as a real possibility, and finally fading out as a wistful what might have been (the skirt: "we could have been good together, you know.")

But it taught me very clearly something I'd been vaguely aware of for a long time: if you don't see the stuff, you don't want it. Why in the world would I need another skirt, especially one that costs $200? Because I saw it, and that made me want it, and have to have it. It's obvious really, but most of our wants originate from magazines, advertisements, and malls. If you stop seeing the stuff, you don't want it.

I'm not suggesting we should all start dressing like Minnie Pearl (sorry, that reference is probably a little obscure for younger readers), but there's no reason you can't be stylish without spending tons of money. You can buy less trendy clothes and wear them longer. You can shop secondhand. Or you can eschew fashion altogether. That's probably the most effective way to break the addiction.

Because, speaking for myself, I do feel like wanting this stuff, thinking about it, and conspiring ways to get it (not to mention working to make the money to buy it), is a habit that takes way too much time and energy, and so in a sense it's like an addiction.

If my Buy Nothing New year helps me break that addiction (as low-level as mine was), then it will have been a very successful experiment.

What about you? Are you, or have you ever been, a shopping addict? Is there a 12-step program for shopaholics? Or are you oblivious to fashion? Tell us about it in the Comments section.

Even the Amish...

... have been living beyond their means.

The Amish traditionally travel by horse-drawn buggy, wear homemade clothing, and use very little electricity. But in the past few years, some of them have ditched their off-the-grid existence. And after being lured in by the wages and goods of the conventional economy, they're experiencing the same financial woes as millions of other Americans.

Apparently the society that has always emphasized simplicity and thrift saw some of its members buying vacation homes, taking taxis, and splurging for bigger weddings. But it's time to pay the piper. And now, in Amish country in Indiana, a new back-to-basics movement is starting up. You can read the full Wall Street Journal article here.

I'd say the temptations of consumerism are mighty strong if even the Amish have fallen prey to it. What do you think? Are designer clothes and iPods and "pimped out" vehicles impossible to resist? Is the lure of the mall and the power of advertising too much for us mortals? Share your thoughts and opinions in the Comments section.

Whoops!

I bought something new.

I'm a member of a Book Club. A really awesome Book Club. I like everyone in it, and I'm honored to be a member. I LOVE my Book Club.

For the past two or three years, I've been getting the Book Club book from the library. They weren't always that great, and I'd been spending too much on books.

But this month, the Public Library System let me down. It's the first time it's happened. I won't go into the details, but after three weeks, I still didn't have a copy of the book in my hot little hands. And our meeting is Tuesday. That gives me three days to read the book.

If I didn't want to read this book so much, I'd just forget about it. But I've been wanting to read The Moviegoer for awhile. It's famous for being the book that won the National Book Award in 1962 over Catch-22 and Revolutionary Road. It's a Southern coming-of-age story. I can't wait to read it.

So now, with the clock ticking, I had no choice but to buy it new. My intentions were pure. I tried to get it from the library. And then when it became clear I wasn't going to get it from the library, I sent out an email to the group in hopes of borrowing a copy. But no one who had it was finished. So my choices were to either buy it new or not read it at all.

As my husband observed, "You take your Book Club very seriously." I guess I do. So my 4th "fall off the wagon" is my Book Club's selection for June: The Moviegoer. By Walker Percy. I don't feel too bad about it.

If you want to check out my other slip ups, click here for my January search for gloves for the Jane Austen Ball, here to hear about my purchase of a Congratulations card for a co-worker (does that really count?), and here to read about how I purposely leapt off the wagon by purchasing books by my friend at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books.

So that's my confession. Do you have anything you'd like to confess? Tell me about it in the Comments section.

Free ice cream

Who doesn't like ice cream? I've never met such a person.

FREE STUFF ALERT: Tomorrow, April 15th, get your free scoop of ice cream at Maggie Moo's ice cream and treatery. I don't know that brand, but you can click here to find a location near you.

It's a Tax Day promotion, I suppose as a reward for getting through the chore of filing your taxes. But I don't need an excuse. What about you? What's your favorite excuse to bring out the Ben and Jerry's? Tell me about it in the Comments section, and also let me know if you get a free Maggie Moo's. I want to hear about it.

Jeans made in heaven?

Anyone who read my previous post about my panicked jean shopping spree on December 31st (Last Day to Shop), the day before I joined The Compact, will understand why I was irritated when I read today's Daily Candy. With the title "Heavenly Creatures," we learn that Made in Heaven jeans have arrived in the U.S. I don't even know what that means, and already I want them. Damn. The first line of the little ad/article is "Shopping for jeans can be hell on earth." No kidding. It goes on, "Behold Made in Heaven. The second coming of the original British denim line has descended on America. Answering your prayers for a few perfect pairs, spring presents classic London..." It goes on from there, describing different styles, and I want all of them! So irritating. I'm convinced I really need these jeans, they probably fit perfectly, look amazing, and are so comfortable they feel like you're wearing sweats. Daily Candy is banned from my universe.

The new jeans I bought are okay, but neither of them are perfect. You know what I mean- the pair of jeans you'd put on every day if you weren't embarrassed to be wearing the same thing all the time? My favorite pair of jeans were a pair of 501s that were hand-me-downs from my brother. I used to get all my jeans from him when we were the same size. It worked out perfect because he liked to wear them slightly new and dark and I loved them light and worn in. I wore those jeans all through my twenties until right before my 30th birthday, they tore beyond repair while I was wearing them. They had already been patched several times with colorful fabric across the bum and the knees were left torn (this was the early 90s). Maybe I'll do okay buying jeans from a thrift store. Do you remember your favorite pair of jeans? I have an idea that jeans are the blankies of our early adulthood. Write and tell me your thoughts about all things jean-related.

Free stuff alert: If you live anywhere near Long Beach, CA, this concert sounds really cool. The Los Angeles based Indie/Rock/Americana band Everest will be playing a free in-store concert at 2pm on Sunday at Fingerprints Music Store. Everest is made up of current and former band members of Earlimart, Sebadoh, Alaska!, The Watson Twins, Great Northern, and Stanford Prison Experiment. They have opened up for Death Cab for Cutie and Neil Young. For more information on Everest and to listen to music samples visit: everestband.com or myspace.com/everest. You can also find out more at http://www.fingerprintsmusic.com/.

I don't know the band, but I love Neil Young, and I think I would love Death Cab for Cutie if I was more hip and listened to more new music. And with a 2pm start time, you'll be home in time to watch the Academy Awards starting at 5pm.

Day 43 without shopping: but who's counting?

The other day I went to the fabulous J. Paul Getty museum with a friend who hadn't been there. The reason is that she works too much, like a lot of people in Los Angeles. So it was a gorgeous clear day, you could see all the way to Catalina, and we had a great time. We saw two photo exhibits and spent a lot of time in the gardens. Then she begged me to go to the museum gift shop, and I had no problem with that. Except when I went inside, I immediately wanted EVERYTHING. Beautiful jewelry and scarves and kid's books, and especially the cards.

I love to buy postcards whenever I visit a museum. Sometimes I actually mail them to people, and sometimes I just keep them to look at or put up on my bulletin board. They always have beautiful notecards at museum stores too, and in fact that's where I bought a lot of that stuff, before I joined The Compact. My friend said she wanted to buy some cards and we found a beautiful box for her, and with a little bit of willpower, I managed to walk out of there without buying anything. I have to admit I didn't even look at the postcards because I probably would have figured out some rationalization to buy a couple.

Truth be told, I don't think there's anything wrong with buying a few postcards at a museum, or even any of the other items they sell. But I'm doing this experiment, so I figure I have to give it my best shot. But after my year without spending is over, I'll definitely go back to buying postcards as museum souvenirs. That's one purchase that really does make me happy. Maybe because it's more than just stuff, it's a reminder of an experience.

What do you think? I love cards and postcards, but is it worth cutting down all those trees to make them?

My first fall off the wagon

Last Saturday night was the 12th Annual Jane Austen Ball. I've been going since the very first one, and have only missed two due to work. It's an excuse for people to dress up and dance to the music of Jane Austen's lifetime, and it's one of the geekiest and most wonderful things I do.

After years of wearing an old bridesmaid dress that was vaguely Regency in style, and several more years of running around the week before the Ball trying to rent a gown, this year I finally had a dress made, and it was gorgeous. The only problem was that whenever I've rented a dress in the past, it comes with the long white dress gloves. So with just two days to spare, I realized I needed to find some gloves quick.

Which leads me to my slip. I went to the Goodwill, and they had NO gloves, much less stretchy white dress gloves. Next, I looked online for thrift stores in the area and made a list of ten. After three or four of them had absolutely nothing except some 70s tan suede that looked perfect for a Foxy Brown Halloween costume, I was beginning to worry I wouldn't find any gloves anywhere, new or used. I should explain it's considered very gauche to neglect the gloves. Some people take them off once they're dancing, but I didn't want to make an appearance bare-armed.

And so, when I walked into a store that I realized was actually a discount store, not a secondhand store, and asked if they had any gloves, and she literally pulled out a brand new pair of the exact gloves I needed, and she said they were $7, I caved. I could have kept looking, and possibly end up gloveless, but I didn't. I decided I wanted those gloves, and I knew I'd be wearing them for the rest of my ball-going days. So there you have it. I think it's actually more of a slip than a tumble, because it's a small item that won't end up in a landfill. They'll be in my armoire for many years.

What I learned was that buying used is all about thinking ahead. If I'd thought of it sooner, I would have had the time to look in more secondhand shops. I might have even called ahead so I wouldn't be using up so much time and energy, not to mention gasoline, searching for just what I needed.

Whew- I feel a lot better getting that off my chest. Do you have any good tips for buying specific items used or at secondhand shops?

An addition to the family

We have a new member in our household, and he lives in the living room. He's a 52-inch LCD television. People refer to their cars as "she," but this is a very male appliance. It was purchased by my husband, and it actually arrived just before the new year. But he did not buy it during a last minute panicked shopping spree before joining The Compact, because he's not joining me on this venture. He's supporting me and getting rid of things and welcomes the idea of trying to spend less, but he's not going to go whole hog and make the pact. Which is fine. But it does bring up a sort of paradox: I'm not buying anything new, but he's bringing a huge state-of-the-art piece of equipment into the house. And I'm not complaining--the picture is gorgeous and it's going to be fantastic to watch movies on this thing. The problem goes something like this: "Am I really sacrificing anything if my husband can go out and buy anything new that we need?"

This issue came up for me yesterday when I saw that my favorite boutique in our little town is going out of business. It made me really sad because this woman sells really creative, beautiful stuff that's recycled in some way. The store is called "Regeneration." I bought a lot of great gifts in there, and a few things for myself. But now I can't buy anything at the sale. My first rationalization when I thought maybe I'd go in was, "Since her stuff is handmade and recycled, it doesn't really break the Compact." Well, that depends on how far you want to go with this "nothing new" pact, and I'll do another post on that topic. There are no hard and fast rules, the members make them up for themselves. And some people do allow exceptions for handmade items, even when they're made by someone else. I haven't nailed down my own exceptions yet, but that seemed a little too much of a slippery slope for me. But back to my original point, right after I rejected that line of thinking I thought, "Well, if I saw something I really wanted, I could have George buy it." And therein lies the problem. Theoretically I could have him buy anything I don't buy. And that of course makes no sense since we're a couple and live in the same house. So I have to be careful with this...

Back to the TV: I can't wait to watch "Days of Heaven" on that new screen. It really is beautiful.

Day 5 without shopping: Catalog junkie

Okay, confession time. I was straightening up over the weekend and found a catalog I'd marked a page in a couple of weeks back. There was a blouse I wanted to order, but I forgot about it. I'm a big catalog shopper, mostly because I hate malls. So here's the confession part: I actually considered ordering the blouse. My thought process was something like "Who will know?" Crazy! I mean really, this is how our lizard brains work. Because after all, who other than my husband is going to know if I cheat on any of this? It doesn't have to be a catalog!

Anyway, it made me realize how my mind works- namely, that suddenly I had to have THAT top, that it was the one item that would bring my whole wardrobe together, etc. I think this was the thing that made me stop shopping and go mostly to catalogs in the first place. I'd be in a store or walking through the mall, and really think I needed this stuff, even when I had too many things to wear as it was.

I'm going to have to throw those catalogs away without looking at them from now on, obviously. Better yet, I have to stop them from coming once and for all. Look for a future post on that topic...