It's easy to get rid of the things that didn't cost much. And to, you know, feel guilty about tossing the things that did.
That ill-fitting cheap-o sweater practically flew into the Goodwill pile, as did the hand-me-down, fugly overnight bag.
My attempt at getting all minimalist was going fine until I found my Antonio Melani suede high-heeled boots, circa 2006. I had originally bought them to visit a friend in NYC because I wanted to look awesome and posh and definitely *not* like I lived in a redneck college town.
While I felt all sophisticated on the plane, I started to love them less once I actually had to walk for longer than 20 minutes at a time. As in a lot less. As in I wore them for exactly half a day and then buried them deep into my suitcase. They haven't seen sunlight since.
I don't do well in heels. I never have. These boots are probably the last pair I've got, save for the one pair I will only concede and wear to weddings. Heels are one of the few cultural expectations I push back on, societal pressure to look "feminine" be damned.
So, why should I keep those boots, even though I spent $80 on them?
Well, let's see.
Because I spent $80 on them. Because they're cute. Because I finally live in a colder climate in which it actually makes sense to wear them. Um, $80.
I thought about trying to sell them at a consignment shop, but the suede is already peeling off the heel, and I've endured enough bad experiences to know that consignment stores are picky and will ultimately make you feel like a complete frumpy fuck-up for not living up to their re-sell standards.
It's funny how trying to push myself to get rid of expensive things has made me feel so, so guilty. It's basically admitting to failure, because it's forced me to face the fact that I wasn't perceptive enough to predict that I would end up absolutely hating thing X and barely use thing Y. And that sucks.
But, after wearing the boots around the house and determining that yep, I still hate wearing heels, I took about 10 pictures of myself wearing them (which I will spare you of) and then solemnly placed them in the Goodwill bag.
And you know what? After that, it was easier to toss other expensive shit. Like that long skirt I've worn exactly twice and would probably only consider wearing 15 years from now, when it is cool to dress up in a tacky beginning-of-the-century costume for Halloween. Maybe.
So, my lesson? As hard as it is, I must be strong and determine what things I really, really don't use. If it happens to be expensive, remind self again and again why I do not use this expensive shit. Allow self to feel guilty about buying expensive shit in the first place. Convince self that, because I don't use this expensive shit, I don't *need* to keep this expensive shit, because keeping something I don't use for merely the sake of its price tag doesn't make any sense.
Take pictures if necessary.
That ill-fitting cheap-o sweater practically flew into the Goodwill pile, as did the hand-me-down, fugly overnight bag.
My attempt at getting all minimalist was going fine until I found my Antonio Melani suede high-heeled boots, circa 2006. I had originally bought them to visit a friend in NYC because I wanted to look awesome and posh and definitely *not* like I lived in a redneck college town.
While I felt all sophisticated on the plane, I started to love them less once I actually had to walk for longer than 20 minutes at a time. As in a lot less. As in I wore them for exactly half a day and then buried them deep into my suitcase. They haven't seen sunlight since.
I don't do well in heels. I never have. These boots are probably the last pair I've got, save for the one pair I will only concede and wear to weddings. Heels are one of the few cultural expectations I push back on, societal pressure to look "feminine" be damned.
So, why should I keep those boots, even though I spent $80 on them?
Well, let's see.
Because I spent $80 on them. Because they're cute. Because I finally live in a colder climate in which it actually makes sense to wear them. Um, $80.
I thought about trying to sell them at a consignment shop, but the suede is already peeling off the heel, and I've endured enough bad experiences to know that consignment stores are picky and will ultimately make you feel like a complete frumpy fuck-up for not living up to their re-sell standards.
It's funny how trying to push myself to get rid of expensive things has made me feel so, so guilty. It's basically admitting to failure, because it's forced me to face the fact that I wasn't perceptive enough to predict that I would end up absolutely hating thing X and barely use thing Y. And that sucks.
But, after wearing the boots around the house and determining that yep, I still hate wearing heels, I took about 10 pictures of myself wearing them (which I will spare you of) and then solemnly placed them in the Goodwill bag.
And you know what? After that, it was easier to toss other expensive shit. Like that long skirt I've worn exactly twice and would probably only consider wearing 15 years from now, when it is cool to dress up in a tacky beginning-of-the-century costume for Halloween. Maybe.
So, my lesson? As hard as it is, I must be strong and determine what things I really, really don't use. If it happens to be expensive, remind self again and again why I do not use this expensive shit. Allow self to feel guilty about buying expensive shit in the first place. Convince self that, because I don't use this expensive shit, I don't *need* to keep this expensive shit, because keeping something I don't use for merely the sake of its price tag doesn't make any sense.
Take pictures if necessary.
3 comments:
Once I donated my wedding dress that sat wrapped in a sheet in a box under my bed since the day after my wedding 8 or so years prior everything else was a breeze. And that dress was significantly more than $80! I just figured it was crazy to think that any future daughters of mine might want to wear and then when I has two boys I decided it was time to pass it on to someone who might want it.
I can so, So, SO relate to this post! I'm on about car load number 8 in my minimalist/decluttering adventure and I've come to the sobering realization that I need to get rid of a piece of furniture. It's just a stupid bookshelf, but it's one of only 2 pieces of furniture that I've ever bought new.
Not talking super expensive, but you know, I actually spent real money, with a credit card on this puppy. But it doesn't fit in my house and it's just cluttering up the basement sitting there empty.
Guess what I've learned it to be really, Really, REALLY strict with myself about buying anything from now on, because it's not just the price you pay when you buy it, it's the emotional price of owning it and eventually getting rid of it if and when you decide you don't want it anymore!
@Anonymous
oh man, all of that wedding shit scares me so bad. and not so much because, you know, you're committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life, but because of all of the stuff that goes with a wedding. it's like, what the hell am I gonna do with a floor-length white dress after I get married? put it on and dance around in my bedroom once a week? kudos for donating.
@Eco Cat Lady
I totally get the emotional price thing. even things like gifts--shit that *I* didn't even buy--is so damn hard to get rid of, because of all of the emotional layers wrapped into it. ugh.
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