frivolous but slightly interesting
A few weeks ago it occurred to me, as I leaned desperately on the wardrobe doors in an attempt to make them shut, that I probably had enough clothes, and that it might be a good idea not to buy any more for the next twelve months or so. I’d been justifying the heaps of stuff to myself by pointing out that almost all were either from charity shops or from the fair trade suppliers Traidcraft and People Tree and that accordingly every indulgence was in fact an act of benevolence and global justice. Unfortunately Myself replied, with what I considered rather pompous alacrity, that, however recycled, organic, ethical and inexpensive the garments, such a quantity of cotton still required inordinate amounts of water to be produced and that my T-shirt drawer was, by any rational standards, in danger of being seriously over-resourced.
So I made the Marie Curie wellies (pictured above) my last purchase (for Glastonbury, ironically, in the Year of No Mud, but no doubt they’ll come in handy next time) and prepared to augment my sustainable sackcloth with nothing but a little ash. Oddly, however, far from feeling discontented, I’m happier with the stuff I’ve got than ever before. I seem to have more choice every morning of what to wear, more things that go with other things, often unexpectedly, and less angst about what shape appears in the bedroom mirror. An odd sense of liberation overcomes me as I glide through M&S on the way to the walnut loaves with no temptation to rifle through the sale rack or see if there’s any BOGOF on the opaque tights. It’s irrelevant that what I really need to go with that skirt is a purple cardigan – I’ve got three grey, two blue and a brown one, and one of those will simply have to cosy its way into the breach. As I say, it’s only been a few weeks, and no doubt more insidious challenges will creep in with the autumn leaves, but it’s a reassuring start…
I’ve found it very liberating not buying clothes. I can look at all the pretty maxidresses and go oohh, pretty, without any consequential going in and trying on and wondering whether I should or not, since just because they are pretty does not necessarily mean that I will be pretty in them. In happy post-work mode I lugged all my nasty black trousers (and a brown pair- why had I ever thought brown polyester was a good idea?) to Oxfam, along with all those blouses that I’d never really liked much but were terribly respectable, and loads of jumpers because I only really wear fleeces and the occasionally big woolly thing. All my clothes now fit in the wardrobe/drawers! And I still have about 4 times as many dresses as I will ever have occasion to wear.
But I haven’t been able to stay entirely untarnished- I really couldn’t resist the Billy Bragg football t-shirt. And my latest charity shop jeans have just gone through at the knee so I fear another pair is going to be required.
It isn’t clothes with me, it’s books. Is it possible to stop buying them? I have managed to take several bagsful to the local charity shop but more generate while my back is turned. It’s got to the point where we need a bigger house because we’ve run out of wall to put shelves on.
Aha, this is where my cunning plan of becoming a bookseller came in – I am no longer idly indulging an addiction but making a wise and canny investment in stock…
… Similarly, I’m not enjoying a frivolous chat with sister and old friend, but expanding the boundaries of cyberspace by exploring vital issues of resource management.
If you can recommend any scholarly but approachable works on learning theory or instructional design, then I can pretend I’m working too.