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Almost two years ago, when the economy was still good and there was no real reason not to run out to the mall and buy something new, I wrote a post for BlogHer about how to shop your closet. The idea is simple, and is one that I return to over and over again: you can't shop effectively until you know what you have, and the place to start is with a systematic analysis of what's in the closet.
In the two years since I wrote that post, the economy has tanked and we've all been compelled to think harder about our shopping. Budgeting is in and conspicuous consumption is out, even for those who can afford it. "Recessionista" is the new fashion buzzword for women who are chic and cheap all at once.
I hate that word, I really do.
This week, Salon ran a piece by Rebecca Traister titled, "Shop in Your Own Closet!" Traister's essay dissects how fashion magazines are handling the recession, and she links to that long-ago post about shopping your closet.
This is very practical advice. It is very sturdy. It is very sage. It is very depressing. As someone who kind of loathes shopping, I nonetheless am horrified by the idea. No one should shop in their own closet unless they are rich and their closet is huge, in which case, they can probably still afford to shop outside their closet anyway. For the rest of us, this is just a fancy way of saying, "Wear the same clothes you've been wearing for the past 10 years." I admire the sentiment, but it's precisely this kind of workmanlike thrift that could suck all the joy out of magazine reading.
That really is depressing, isn't it?
I both agree and disagree with Traister. The shop-your-closet philosophy is essentially utilitarian, as opposed to aesthetic; it's not about having things that are pretty or fabulous, but about having things that work. And yes, you absolutely can have a closet of pretty things that work for you, but that's not the point; the idea is to get in there and weed out the chaff and start wearing the good stuff.
In the end, it's not all that sexy, shopping your closet. It is practical and sturdy and sage.
At the same time, though, I feel compelled to say this: most of us -- at least most of you who read and respond to what I write here -- are NOT rich and do NOT have huge closets. We also have no idea what's really in our closets, no matter what their size, and we're already wearing the same things over and over again, they're just not the nice things or the interesting things.
So yes, our wardrobes often are practical and sturdy and depressing. But not because we're shopping in our closets instead of shopping in stores; because we're only wearing a sliver of what we own, and the pieces we fall back on are practical and sturdy and, sometimes, depressing.
So why would we choose to give up buying if what we already own is so depressing? The recession certainly has something to do with it -- when you are confronted, on a daily basis, with stories of people who are barely getting through the day, it's hard to justify another sweater or pair of boots or trip to the mall. We're all aware of how bad things are, even if -- like me -- you're not really feeling it in any tangible way in your day-to-day life. But I think there is more to it than that.
Traister's piece examines the way fashion magazines have adopted the rhetoric of not shopping in an effort to remain relevant in a recession -- but giving up shopping is about more than just economics and rhetoric. Joslyn at Simple Lovely has started a 90 day "spending hiatus," during which she is purchasing only necessities. She has two reasons for this:
First, I see it as sort of a “money cleanse.” Most Americans go to the gym religiously in January to make up for all sorts of gastronomical sins, and while I certainly eat a lot over the holidays, I seem to have a bigger issue with spending -- that extra bottle of wine at the grocery store, one more gift for the girls, a few more ornaments for the tree... No matter how diligent I’ve been prior, I somehow lose all focus and get caught up in the abundance of December. Come January,
