Morning view. It's cloudy today, with rain, thank goodness, in the forecast. Things have been hot and dry here for the last week. This morning smells mountainous: damp and leafy and earthy.
In the garden, black-eyed Susans are gearing up to bloom.
We'll have some, though not that many, blackberries this year.
On the other hand, we can eat arugula till it runs out of our ears. I pureed some into a pesto sauce for chicken last night, with some of our fresh basil. Unlike other greens, arugula seems just fine even after it's flowered. And it looks so pretty when it flowers that I hate to cut them off.
If we can't quite live off our garden, we are getting there --- we're closer already than we have ever been previously. Just having it all right outside the back door, where I can water it and keep an eye on it consistently, makes a huge difference.
And the timing is good. A homesteading friend up around Boone reports that all her farming neighbors are talking about how much more it's costing them to do everything they do: cut hay, for example. Gas prices have a knock-on effect across the economy. She is advising friends to begin stocking up against scarcities and more grocery cost increases come the fall: add a few extra canned goods every time you shop, for example, including protein sources. As I make my list for this week, I'm keeping that in mind.
In other sad news, my favorite little bamboo dress is displaying its cheapness:
This seam is right in the armpit, and I can mend it with no difficulty, but still. These definitely are not investment dresses. On the other hand, I wore it all afternoon yesterday, out in the heat, walking the dog --- and then I slept in it, because I was too lazy to put on something else. This morning, it smelled fresh. I've hung it to air, and I will mend the unsewn seam, but I'm pretty pleased by how these little dresses do perform. They're not good the way Wool& dresses are good, but then I didn't pay for that level of quality. I will mend and keep these dresses, not treat them as disposable, but as I noted yesterday, I'm not going to worry about them. I'll wear them hard until they fall apart, but I'm not going to be heartbroken when that day comes. I do like having things to wear that give my wool dresses a break. I definitely like having dresses that perform for activities like hiking, and I like not having to worry that I'm going to ruin them.
Speaking of wool dresses:
I'm back in my gray Sierra today, being very Team Basic. The weather's a little cooler, but I am testing her out as a summer dress. She feels very sweater-ish compared with my Camellia, who just feels like a silky t-shirt dress. But people do say that they've worn their Sierras in 90+ temperatures, and I wish to test this wearability. I don't think the Sierra is exactly airy. Even in a lighter color than this charcoal gray (which I like very much), I don't think she would feel floaty or cool. But she's not bad. And I do think the look is cute, regardless.
Mine, again, is a small long. I'm glad I went for a long --- a medium in this dress would have been too baggy, I think (even though I'm not thin), but a regular-length small would have given me yet another limitingly short dress. This length, right at the top of my knee, is very versatile. I have worn Sierra to church a lot, with and without tights or leggings, as well as to parties, meetings, reunions . . . this is my go-everywhere dress.
Meanwhile, I'm glad this particular dress isn't longer on me. I think that with the shape and heaviness, hitting below the knee would seem awkward. At the same time, I think I would really like a silkier dress in a slightly longer length, which is why I've been looking at the Sofia and, more recently, a long Maggie, as exemption purchases in my no-buy year.
And what about that no-buy year? I'm three weeks and a day from hitting the only-200-to-go mark, which I guess is kind of hard to believe. In another three weeks-ish, I'll be at the halfway mark, Day 182 (or 183). Granted, my no-buy hasn't been that restrictive. It's applied only to clothes, and I gave myself exemptions, including underwear and small accessories like belts, which I have bought. And yes, I can report: a bra in the mail is a dopamine hit. Fortunately I haven't bought that many, not more than I really needed. It seems worthwhile to have made some considered purchases in that department, so that now all my undergarments, with the exception of a couple of half-slips, are natural-fiber. Remarkable what a difference that makes. I don't currently own any wool underwear, just cotton and bamboo --- the upgrade to wool will have to wait for another year, at least.
So what difference has this no-buy year made?
I guess mostly, so far, the difference is that I've stayed out of thrift stores, which means that I haven't made any needless impulse purchases. It's amazing how many things I've bought in the past simply because they cost less than $5. I've culled my closet hard, and I haven't rushed out and amused myself by buying more things to fill it up. Not that I'm really any the richer for this change: I have bought a lot of books. I didn't even consider not buying books this year, and I've certainly spent money in that department. Some of it I can recoup on my taxes, but a lot of it I really can't, in good conscience. But oh well. At least I do read the books I buy (mostly), and often reread them. And in the book department, I don't just buy junk because it's cheap. What I buy, I really want.
Anyway, again, my no-buy applies only to clothes, and I do think it's been a good discipline so far. I've been at no loss for things to wear. If anything, I've been realizing what a superabundance I have, and have been discerning carefully what currently-owned items I truly want to continue owning. I don't mind having some things I wear less often. Sometimes you just need to reach for something different. But there's a difference between that something different that's just the thing to scratch the occasional itch and something you simply do not wear, because it scratches no itch, ever. That's when you start to examine why you might have bought such a thing to begin with: maybe you just bought it because there it was, you were in the mood to buy something, and it cost less than $5. OR you bought it because you were in a hurry and needed something for a particular reason, and the thing that would really have filled that blank for you wasn't there, so you bought what was there. Or whatever. Anyway, having time and space to interrogate those decisions seems like a good way to rehabituate yourself to making better decisions in the future.
Which is why I keep talking about making a dress purchase. If I hadn't had this conference coming up --- and I didn't at all see this coming when I made my no-buy resolution for the year --- I would not have let myself start looking at dresses at all. That is kind of a dangerous door to open, because once you start justifying a purchase to yourself, you can all too easily start justifying multiple purchases. Now that I think of it, you start to think. At least, I do.
Of course, I've been rehabituating myself to not buying clothes, which helps give me pause when I begin to consider buying an item of actual clothing. I did make this rule for myself, and I've talked about it here, which gives me some accountability. If I flex the rule to accommodate an unplanned-for clothing need (or desire, but I'm not going to split hairs, and I am going to give myself the benefit of the doubt), I'll talk about it here, which will continue to give me accountability.
When I make this purchase --- and it is a when, not an if, I think I'll be pretty sure I want the item I'm purchasing.
*I'll know how and where and when I want to wear it.
*I'll know that it fills a particular place in my wardrobe and that it will work hard for me, as my existing wool dresses do.
*I'll know that it moves me closer to having an all-natural-fiber year-round versatile wardrobe, which is something I want.
So . . . I do plan to give myself this considered flex in my no-buy rule, but I'm not going to stop calling 2022 a no-buy year. Overall, that will still be the rule. I'm not going to break down and start gifting myself stuff (I loathe gift as a verb, anyway). I'm not going to change the essential shop-my-closet vibe, or the much-not-many spirit I've had going on here. I'm not going to alleviate boredom or depression by buying new clothes. I will --- eventually --- make this considered purchase, then resume what has become the normal tenor of things for me.
And I know I can do that, because I've been doing it all this time. We're almost halfway through 2022, and so far it's been no big deal at all not to go clothes shopping or thrifting (which for me are one and the same thing). It's been no big deal not to browse Poshmark or Ebay, again out of boredom or to chase a dopamine hit. Funnily enough, I seem to have plenty to do without doing those things.
Not, mind you, that I don't have something of a wishlist going already, for the winter. There are things I'll either ask for for my birthday, or use some birthday money to buy --- wool leggings, for example, are high on my list. I wear leggings all. the. time. in colder weather. I really love the bamboo-cotton-blend leggings I bought last December. I would love at least one pair of wool ones, especially since they're increasingly available in colors other than black. I might, in the winter, pull the trigger on a long-sleeved wool dress: a Fiona, if there are colors available that I like, or a Willow or Rowena. I might also like some wool bike shorts for next summer.
But again, these would be considered purchases. I don't know that I would continue to declare no-buy years after this one, but my hope is that the patterns established in this year will be patterns I live by for the rest of my life: to think carefully about what I want and need, to make careful investments in what I discern that I want and need, and then to enjoy the ongoing fruit of those discernments. The main thing is to live abundantly, but abundantly doesn't have to mean a lot of stuff.
My clothes should serve me. I should not serve them, as idols. They shouldn't exert the kind of power over me that impels me to keep acquiring more and more, but never to be satisfied with what I acquire. What they should do, instead, is to empower me: to honor my coloring and my body, to be comfortable enough in any situation that I don't have to think about what I'm wearing. They should, in a sense, disappear into me when I put them on --- never vice versa.
That's the big philosophy. The subsidiary philosophy: they should be natural fiber, should breathe, should stay fresh without needing a lot of washing, should hold up, should not support an economy that exploits people and resources. The same item should be versatile, able to be tweaked to accommodate multiple situations (again, much-not-many). Every item should go with lots of other items in my wardrobe, though that doesn't mean that they all have to be neutral, or the same color (though I'm fine with tons of blue).
I know that I talk and talk about this (or write and write, which amounts to the same thing). I suppose this is my way of processing things, and that what I'm really, ultimately processing, is my relationship with myself, of which my relationship with my clothes is a not-insignificant aspect. It's how I show up, as they say. My buying habits, of course, are yet another aspect of all this, because I can hardly show up in the clothes if I don't buy them. To my mind, a no-buy period isn't so much a restriction or a punishment for a bad habit as it is a way of casting habits into high relief, for examination. Not exercising the habit right now shines a light on the ways that I have exercised it in the past, and how I'd like to exercise it in the future. Being able to hit pause on the old habits demonstrates to me that I can remake them: I have the fortitude, and I'm developing the vision.
UPDATE:
Mended the bamboo dress, and it's back in the closet, waiting for its next outing.