ISSUE 26 : CONFESSIONS OF A REFORMED SHOPAHOLIC
+ earth month edit
Hello, and Happy Earth Day!
Firstly, I know it’s been a while, and I’d intended to share a newsletter once a month this year. But, as I briefly mentioned in the February letter, I was dealing with a family emergency — I wrote more about what I’ve been going through here. It’s been tough to catch up on the backlog of work this past month, but I’m starting to make some progress and wanted to try to get back on track with an April edit for you all.
In honor of Earth Day, I thought it’d be fun to share a curation of secondhand finds. Many of my favorite BIPOC designer pieces are splurges, but shopping resale websites allows me to celebrate their work in a more affordable way. I’m somewhat addicted to
, and have plenty more gems saved than I can fit in my closet, so why not share them? 100% of all affiliate link revenue from this edit will be donated to Hike Clerb, a non-profit organization reimagining an equitable and inclusive outdoors for people of color. You can shop the full Earth Month Edit, featuring 25+ secondhand pieces from BIPOC brands, here.
Now for a confession: my obsession with shopping resale, and vintage, wasn’t birthed solely from environmental awareness — although I truly believe shopping secondhand is the most sustainable option (aside from not buying anything). This habit began during the process of reforming the overzealous fast-fashion-fueled shopping habits that defined my twenties. I somehow managed to jump off the hamster wheel just before things really got out of control, with the rise of Shein and Temu, ‘core’ microtrends, Tiktok shopping hauls, Buy Now Pay Later options, and the general influencer-affiliate frenzy over the past several years. But many people, especially those younger than me, are stuck within these excessive consumption cycles that have disastrous consequences for both the planet and their credit scores.
A survey by Intuit Credit Karma found that “one-third of Gen Z and Millennial consumers believe they have developed a shopping addiction, with 54% reporting that falling victim to rampant consumerism has racked up debt as a result of their addiction.” The New York Times recently framed this tendency for unmitigated spending as ‘money dysorphia.’ In a recent
chat on the topic, shared her shock in regards to the ‘shopping as a sport’ mentality that seems to have taken over our feeds and become societally accepted as the status quo. How do we break this cycle?
For me, personally, the breaking point of my shopping compulsion was simply…space. After years of living elsewhere, I moved back to New York, and found myself a lovely tiny apartment. I’d studied fashion design in college, and came of age during the first fast-fashion boom. It was exhilarating to suddenly go from the limited boring basics of affordable mall brands and department stores to the vast expanse of cheap trendy options offered by H&M and Zara and Topshop (when I lived in London). And it certainly did not help that, at some point, my full time-job involved pulling product images from the Zara website. I shopped all the time, obsessively.
In between moving cities twice, I left some belongings at my parents’ house each time, which falsely obscured the sheer masses of clothing that I’d collected. When I finally moved into my own apartment in Brooklyn, I decided to bring everything I owned into that small space and conduct a sort of audit. It was immediately and overwhelmingly obvious that I had far too much stuff…and that I didn’t even like most of it. Around this same time, 5-6 years into my career, I also started making a better salary, had become more interested in investing in higher quality products, and had a much better sense of my own personal style. So I set about a major closet overhaul.
I spent several hours a week photographing, posting, and selling hundreds of items on Poshmark, Depop, Vestiaire Collective, and Ebay. I spent most of the pandemic doing this, and eventually made a few thousand dollars by clearing out my closet (+ three giant suitcases of overflow). I collected those earnings in my Paypal account and slowly began using this as a budget to rebuild my wardrobe in a more thoughtful way. I avoided Zara like it’s the plague — those photoshoots are far too alluring. Instead, I focused on quality staples, unique vintage pieces, and emerging designers I admire. Instead of a one-in-one-out closet strategy, my process of evolving from fast-fashion to intentional shopping was more like, one-in-five-out.
The clear budget limitations of the Paypal balance helped reform my shopping habits, forcing me to think critically about my purchasing decisions. I started incorporating consideration of the long-term lifespan of each new item I buy — Is this a piece that I am planning to wear regularly or hold onto forever? If not, if the piece is more unique and I may tire of it, will it retain its value if I decide to resell? This is a fundamental change to the way I buy clothes. I research and contemplate multiple facets of value for each item I purchase. For instance, I recently splurged on a $650 vintage dress as my first clothing purchase of the year. Five years ago, I’d never have done that, but I’d instead have easily bought seven items for $100 each, spending even more money without thinking it through. In comparison, I thoughtfully considered this dress. It’s a designer piece from a 2001 collection, and my research confirmed its current market value is $600-700. So, I feel confident in my purchase for the long-term, and I paid for it using my resale earnings. Sure, it’s a bit of ‘girl math,’ but it’s definitely a better approach than what I was doing before.
My reformed shopping strategy is not perfect and is still a work in progress — sometimes I slip up, and go on a mini ‘bender’ (that usually ends in a lot of returns). But every spring and fall, I audit my closet and reevaluate its current state. I set aside things to resell, and put those earnings to any new purchases of pieces that I’m craving. And I often use
to seek out and acquire these new items at more accessible prices. Shopping secondhand within this restricted budget framework essentially enables me to relieve my addiction and partake in ‘shopping as a sport’ without as much risk of overconsumption, and without destroying my wallet. I also take much more pride in my wardrobe, which now consists almost entirely of vintage, secondhand, and designer finds, along with some really special pieces from BIPOC creators. It’s been a long journey, but so rewarding, to develop a relationship to shopping that feels less like a shameful compulsion and more like a curatorial passion. And I aim to apply the same approach when creating these monthly Revisionary edits.I’m curious whether the concepts of ‘money dysorphia’ or ‘shopping as a sport’ resonate with anyone else? What have your own experiences with fast-fashion and overconsumption been like? Share your thoughts in the comments!