The Inspired Shopper

A while ago I wrote a blog entry about whether the two mega-trends of thrifting and decluttering were compatible. Did a love of thrifting inevitably lead to hoarding, I wondered. Could a scourer of op shops (like me, for instance) actually lead a minimalist lifestyle?

My preoccupation with hoarding comes from the fact that my parents display totally opposing tendencies in this area.

My father is a hoarder of sorts. This trait took years to fully reveal itself, and remains limited to a few rooms in the house because my mother is a tidiness freak. 

While I was growing up my dad’s hoarding hardly impacted on me – except as an exemplar of untidiness – apart from the garage and garden shed, both almost unusable because stuffed with useless junk, including a canoe that to this day hangs upside down from the roof of the shed like some bizarre art installation, and is purported to have a hole in it. Oh, and my dad's huge glass-topped mahogany desk, whose surface was even then obscured by papers, that my mum had to suffer in their bedroom for many years. As she's gotten older, it's become harder for her to control my dad's messiness.

When we kids grew up and moved out of the house, Dad inherited a bedroom that became his 'office'. He used to complete his watercolour paintings in there, but it's so full of junk now, apart from a small space cleared for a computer and chair, that he’s abandoned it for this purpose. With its boxes of obsolete papers, discarded canvases, painting materials and plastic bags of electrical cables taking up most of the floor space, and the desk obscured by nests of manila folders stuffed with papers, it's a safety hazard.

Ominously my father has been 'given' another room for his painting, a tiny room at the back of the house that was formerly a spare-cum-sewing room. So far it's sufficiently free of junk that my dad can paint again but I predict that in a few months this room too will be unusable. He will occasionally create messy outposts in the rest of the house – for example, spreading his tax return documents around the dining room table, completing a painting project in the sunroom – but these are always temporary and are soon shooed back into the general chaos by my mother.

Dad is in some ways not a typical hoarder. Hoarding is often associated with compulsive shopping; Dad hardly ever shops for non-necessities unless he has to. Nor does he actively accumulate material objects in other ways (although he used to buy the odd broken-down car that he would tinker with on weekends). It's the past he hoards: religious pamphlets, old copies of journals, financial and administrative documents, and anything to do with his political battles with his teachers union, the local council and government bodies. He still has papers from at least fifty years ago.

While hoarding didn’t impact much on my childhood, its roots were present in subtle ways. For example, I knew one thing that would always garner my mother's approval (the usual things didn't really cut it with her): 'cleaning the kitchen' at night. What this meant was not just doing the dishes, but sorting, filing and taming the accumulations of junk that regularly spread themselves around the kitchen benches (this wasn’t just Dad of course – we are a family of seven). Organising this assortment of mail, torn pieces of envelope with phone numbers written on them, tiny miscellaneous toys, coins, sets of keys and so on, and creating sweet if temporary order, was something that my mother and I could both rejoice in.

Has Dad passed down his hoarding tendencies to me? Not at first glance. I'm a tidiness freak and I like to think I’m a great declutterer, but in that regard I’m fooling myself. I'm good at getting rid of some things but not others.

I hold onto clothes for longer than many, but I can get rid of the most treasured garment once I’ve made the decision; I actually enjoy the process of weeding out my wardrobe and dropping off a bag of goodies at my favourite op shop. Once it's time for a piece to go, I don't give it another thought.

But the fact is I do have my own hoarding weakness – books. I have five bookshelves if you don't count the one in my office that is stuffed with folders of edited educational materials.

I find it very hard to let books go. I have thrown the odd few out, but my decisions are extremely conservative. And I still have many books that I won't read again and that bear little relationship to how I live my life these days. Do I really need my secondhand copies of Emotional Intelligence and Steven Covey's Seven Habits of Highly Effective People? (These books were both written before the financial crisis – if they were so influential, why didn't their sage advice for corporate types stop the Goldman Sachs executives plundering the USA and destroying the world economy?) To me the knowledge these books hold represents security, and a link with past versions of me, and I can’t let them go, not yet anyway.

Another thing I hold onto is appointment diaries. Mine go as far back as 1994. I keep them in my bookshelves so it doesn’t feel as if I’m hoarding them. I tell myself they’re useful as primary sources for memoir writing and so on, but they’re really just another link with earlier versions of my life and myself. In the rare times I go through one, trying to discover when some long-ago incident occurred, I’m strangely comforted by the mundanity of the various lists I was so fond of making. Whatever my emotional and material struggles, I continued to go to the supermarket, have my hair cut, drop my books back to the library and pay my rent.

Flyers relating to arts and cultural events – exhibitions, readings, films, plays – are another weakness. It’s so easy to forget the details of these experiences, and while there’s enough room in my filing cabinet, I can’t bring myself to throw away anything that jogs my memory.

In fact, the things I hold onto suggest that I’m like more my father than is comfortable to contemplate. Like him, it’s reminders of the past that I cling to. In the absence of a photographic memory, these refugees from my past testify to my changing life and the things that continue to sustain it.

Do you find it easier to let go of some things and not others?

Are there mementoes of the past that you struggle to throw out?

Until next time!

If you enjoyed this blog entry, you might also like Clearing Out Clutter: A Goodbye Ritual for a Loved Object.

Getting serious about saving money can seem like an onerous task. But it starts with simply changing your attitudes to money and the way you approach spending it. Here are three new frugal tips that are so obvious you may not have thought of them yet!

1. Assume you don’t need anything

Apart from the basic necessities (food, housing, energy, transport) we often say we ‘need’ new items. What we really mean is that we believe our lives would be easier, happier and better overall if we had those items.

When we go shopping for a particular non-basic item we start from a default position that’s so drummed into us we don’t realise it – that we must buy whatever it is we’re looking for. We feel deprived and somehow inadequate without the item.

One way to decrease your spending is to assume that you already have everything you need apart from basic necessities. Then, when a fresh need comes to your attention – a new smartphone; a pair of Mahno Blahnik shoes – you start from the assumption that you don’t need it and work backwards.

Assuming you don’t really need it, ask yourself if there’s anything you already have that could substitute for it. Alternatively, could you borrow it instead? Find it secondhand? Swap something to get it? Or, when you give yourself time to think about it, do you really have enough of that kind of item already?

Of course, at any one time there’s a fair chance that you don’t have everything you need. I often recommend people write a list of things that they intend to buy to put some boundaries around their spending.

The beauty of starting from a default ‘no needs’ position is that you exhaust every other possibility before buying the item. Then if you decide you do really need it, you can buy it without guilt. The real, genuine needs will emerge from the dross of your many wants like shining diamonds, and you’ll find the right items easily at the right time.

2. First things first

I used to be in a 12-step program, and if there’s one thing that is plentiful in these programs it’s wise sayings. Some might argue there are too many, but they can sometimes be quite profound. One of the sayings that has stuck with me over the years is ‘first things first’.

There are two useful ways you can apply this to your spending. The first one is simply allocating enough money for the basic necessities of life (food, housing, energy, transport) before buying non-necessities. Of course, there are many ways you can reduce your spending on these necessities so that you can save more money or buy something you really need.

The other meaning of the saying is even more straightforward, and involves how you spend your time. Shop for the necessities first, and then do any leisure shopping you want to do. If you’re prone to overspending, getting your priorities right in this regard could help you reduce the amount of leisure shopping you do, and therefore your spending. Instead of tacking your food shopping onto the end of a spending binge, take the time to think about what food you’ll buy, where you’ll buy it,  and how you can buy the healthiest food to look after yourself. Changing your priorities in this way is a signal that you’re looking after yourself, and this could also have benefits for your spending. 

You could also look more carefully at other basics like the transport you use to get around, and how you use electricity and gas. Putting time and energy into thinking about those things that you might otherwise spend, say, shopping online could not only reduce your carbon footprint but give you a more mindful experience of life.

3. Look at your family’s money history

You’re not stuck with the spending habits that were instilled in you – it is possible to change your attitudes, and looking at how you came to develop them is a great way to start.

A useful exercise is to sit down and write a history of your family’s attitudes to money. Ask yourself:

How did my parents and grandparents spend money?

What were the attitudes to money that lay behind their spending habits?

What are my attitudes to spending?

How have the attitudes and habits of my family helped form my own attitudes?

Once you’ve answered these questions, you’ll be able to look at your spending habits much more objectively and start to get some distance from them. And you’ll begin to understand that you don't have to be stuck with them!

After taking a serious look at my parents’ attitude to money, and those of my maternal grandparents, I now have a completely different approach to saving and spending from the rest of my family. 

Have you found that you gained more control over your spending after changing some of your basic attitudes? What were your original attitudes and how did you go about changing them?

Until next time!

If you enjoyed this blog entry, you might also like Are Any of These Negative Beliefs about Money Holding You Back? and Be a Creative Stinge – 12 Great Tips for Cutting Your Spending and Saving Money.