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“When dreams turn to dust… vacuum.”
Following this anonymous (maybe subtle marketing from Dyson?) quote simplifies cleaning things up. When the ship sailed without you, wave goodbye from the shore. When you’re at a dead end, put it in reverse. When a door closes, it’s often one that didn’t lead anywhere you even wanted to go. So, “Let it go!”
Dust off the the Minimalists’ Maxim- “There are no refunds for misspent time.”
Fresh from Fashion Week on the Pont Neuf… “on trend…assertive, opulent, clothes that people wear”. For example, “exaggerated high-waisted jeans, glittery shirts and trousers, and sleeveless leather rompers with attached shoes”. (How does that even begin to work?)
I don’t know who wears these clothes, but my cluelessness isn’t the point. If this look is really you, Bien Sûr, as the article states. If you’re just attempting to follow a trend that high fashion mavens have decided is what people in the know, wear… my response to “on trend” - that’s a low bar. Assert your independence, every day. And not just with clothes. They can be a gateway to a generally more independent lifestyle.
“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” Oscar Wilde
Everything you need to know, in just seven words. Wish they were mine.
June 27, 2023 is National Sunglass Day. I’m not sure that anything serious can be written about something is silly as National Sunglass Day… but here goes. From my blog on December 22, 2021, Minding The Gap.
“A lot has been written about buyer’s remorse-because it happens a lot. Pandemic purchases have only made the problem worse. Fill in the blank. I hate my… Peleton, fire pit, air fryer, designer handbag… why did I buy it? Stores and online sites spend heavily to entice us to buy things we don’t need and maybe don’t even want. We shop when we’re bored, sad, happy, flush, broke. Any excuse or no excuse- shopping is what we do. An internet connection and a credit card are adult pacifiers.
So how do we avoid our next shopping mistake? The simplest way is simply to wait. Putting a bit of space between the impulse to purchase and actually doing so can save us a lot of regret. Waiting will clearly distinguish needs from wants. Some things really can’t wait without unfortunate consequences. But everything else (probably the lion’s share), can.
It might be too late to avoid regrets about holiday purchases and pandemic indulgences, but it’s not too late to mend your ways. Mind the gap. Wait. Not every itch needs to be scratched. I’m taking my own advice. In The Holiday Gift Guide, replete with time-saving, expert-vetted gifts, a pair of snappy sunglasses caught my eye. I have a pair of sunglasses that work just fine, but I like the looks of these keyhole shades better. This itch goes squarely in the “wants” column. I’ve marked my calendar for June 27, 2023 which is National Sunglass Day. My bet is that I’ll be relieved, not remorseful to have waited.”
Back to the present. I minded the gap. I fully appreciated that I did not need these shades, no matter how snappy. But I still wanted them. This was a pretty persistent itch. I was probably going to scratch it. And now to another present. As in a gift. Someone who knows me well and had read Minding the Gap surprised me with a pair of snappy keyhole shades. They are better than others many times their price. Lucky me. If the sun cooperates, I’ll be wearing them to celebrate National Sunglass Day, silly though it is.
“A place for everything and everything in its place. Create systems for organizing, storing and retrieving your things. The system can be anything that works for you. Remember, it’s hard to get anything meaningful done if you can’t even find a matching pair of socks. Manage your inventory. Find a system that works- maybe one in, one out. Rotate your stock. Out of date, broken, mismatched, tired… they need to go.”
That was my rule. Here’s my new rule. “The right place for everything and everything in its right place.” And if the thing is borrowed, return it and save yourself the bother of finding a place for it to live.
Angst to Zeal and everything in between. On the angsty end…misery, clutter, regret, and debt.
Warning: A to Z may become Z to A. Pay attention so you don’t get run over while you’re chasing happiness.
Can we take a pause from “fast fashion”? Actually can we give it up? Given the scope of this industry, a pause is iffy and abandonment is aspirational. Air polluter, water waster, landfill contributor, sweatshop enabler. What’s not to hate? I’ll add social media, particularly Instagram which begets Insta-envy, Insta-buy and Insta-toss.
Of the $123 billion that will be spent this year on trendy, poorly made clothes, depending on whom you ask, between $75 and $100 billion of that dubious fashion will be in a landfill by 2024. Bad numbers, but making them even worse- a goodly portion of those discards will have never been worn.
After pausing, consider “slow fashion”. This dress is 70 years old and has been worn by 23 babies spanning 3 generations. There is nothing trendy about it. It works just as beautifully in 2023 as in 1953. Belgian lace, cotton batiste, tiny pearl buttons, hand stitching.
What’s not to love? Then, now, later.
“Nothing is enough for the man to whom enough is too little.” Epicurus
Yet another story with Crocs as an inanimate protagonist, but I promise this is my last denunciation of these rubber shoes. My position is unlikely to soften, but I’m sure you’ve gotten the message. This story was about Gen Zs and Millennials who are coping with pandemic whiplash and high inflation by “financial avoidance” which is another term for willful blindness when the thing you’re not seeing is the measly balance of your checking account or the bloated balance of your credit card.
The young man who was profiled was dealing with the unpleasant consequences of having “developed a particular affinity for Crocs, and now owning about 15 pairs.” A paragon of restraint compared the the owner of the 744 pairs you last read about. We all have our Achilles’ Heel when it comes to stuff. (For some, that Heel is literally heels; for some, it’s Crocs.)
From ancient Athens, Epicurus. From eastern North Carolina, Granny. “I have eaten abundantly, anymore would be an exert.” From central London, Mary Poppins. “ Enough is as good as a feast.” And from a local crock. “The sufficient is sufficient. That’s why it’s called enough.”
According to a recent news story (news seems aspirational), the pandemic buying frenzy for Crocs is showing no signs of calming down. While the fever for Peletons, fire pits, and puppies has long peaked, Crocs are still hot. The comfortable, work-from-home, not-going-anywhere look, compliments of Covid, played to Crocs’ strength. Unfortunately, the “not-going-anywhere” look has escaped the confines of home. The product line has expanded. Clever marketing via social media is booming.
The story mentioned someone who had 22 pairs of Crocs. It got me wondering if there was anyone who owned more than that. We trust if for far more important things than this, so I’m trusting Google that this guy is the record holder at 744 pairs. Figuring $50 a pair, he’s got over $37,000 in Crocs. If you toss in some Croc socks and Jibbitz charms, the number heads north.
I’ll give it to this champion Croc owner- his is a well-curated collection. Presumably it “sparks joy”. I look at it differently- it’a a total crock. Silly nonsense, sparking despair, not delight. In fairness, he’d probably say the same about some of my stuff.
Vive la différence…begrudgingly.
Minding your own business. Sticking to your knitting. Remembering, “Did they ask me about this?”. The temptation to manage the monkeys in someone else’s circus can get you in hot water. What about the troop of misbehaving monkeys in your lane? Good question. During Dry February, when I was wet, I was working on staying in my own lane. Minding your own lane can be a metaphor for living.
The magic of lanes is that they free you by constraining you. You know where you’re supposed to be and where you’re not. They let you go at your pace without worrying about what’s going on next door. They protect you but don’t completely obscure the world around you. You can marvel at the the Ferrari in the next lane. You can feel pretty good about being a Ford when you see a Yugo in another lane.
When I suggested Dry February, some people let me know they were game. Using what’s in their pantry before buying more. No more health and beauty buys. No Facebook or Instagram scrolling. I hope the folks who went “dry” felt freed by self-constraint.
It’s not lost on me that my proclivity for thinking I’m right leads me to write. I don’t want to own your monkeys but I usually have lots of suggestions on how to manage them. I know my “ two cents worth” is overpriced. So, “No, you didn’t ask me about this.” But it seems fair to assume that if you’re reading, it’s because you want to. “Influencer”, I’m not. What a silly job description.
I went dry on book buying. I borrowed one from a friend. I dusted off my library card. I read what I had and I wrapped up a a knitting project that had been at loose ends for too long. I did read a few free Kindle samples. It took a lot of restraint to not purchased the one that sold for seventeen cents. What a funny, random price. By the time you’re reading this, Amazon will be seventeen cents richer. The spending moratorium wasn’t mostly about money. It was about measured restraint.
Aside: Where is the “cent” key on my computer? Guess what, you can make one by pressing Option +4. So, tomorrow, Amazon will be 17¢ richer!
For some reason, I’d saved the Future Cringe story from February 2. And on February 15, I understood why. The Future story asked thirty people from a variety of fields what their future selves will regret. A good one from C.S. Ledbetter, III from the New Yorker: “I think people will be embarrassed, or should be, by: wearing trousers just below one’s pubic region; pushing domestic pets in baby strollers; pretending a bow tie worn with a T-shirt is acceptable evening wear; interrupting church services to take conference calls; listening to political pundits; listening to financial pundits; buying any kind of exercise equipment.”
I mostly agree with him, but would delete the modifier “domestic” from pet-pushing- an undomesticated animal shouldn’t be pushed in a baby stroller either. Then yesterday, something comes along that makes me think there is no need to delay cringing. Forget the future. How about now? Food-scented candles so you don’t have to do anything other than strike a match to be surrounded by gourmet aromas.
I hope Yankee Candle is up on this. Imagine the possibilities- Yankee Pot Roast or Cape Cod Clam Rolls. Regrettable. Now.
Consider these two. Mahjong and Banangrams. They both involve tiles and both come in zippered carrying bags. And that’s where the similarities might end. I tried, half-heartedly, to play Mahjong. “You’ll love it.” “You’ll be good at it.” “It’s good for your aging brain.” I didn’t love it and didn’t give it enough time to possibly get good or to train my old brain. Actually, half-hearted is a generous assessment. My heart wasn’t in it. I thought that owning my own set would be just the ticket- endowment effect to the rescue. When that failed, another nemesis got involved- sunk cost. “I paid good money for this set and I’m keeping it.”
Mahjong gathered dust. Banangrams has not. I wasn’t hankering for Banagrams and was skeptical when it was given to me. But the first time the zipper was unzipped and the tiles spilled out, I was sold. It’s simple. Fewer tiles. Fewer rules. Smaller bag. Solo or together. With tiles on a table, not on a screen. I do love it. I’m pretty good at it (another generous assessment, playing mostly against myself). And my brain hasn’t rebelled.
Recently I was asked again to join a Mahjong beginners’ group. It reminded me of the dusty set in my closet. It’s textbook clutter: anything unused, unloved and easily and affordably replaced should you regret having gotten rid of it. So I’m giving my set to a friend who will love it and use it. Sort of a peace offering for having declined her invitation to begin. But when your heart’s not in it, it’s better for everyone if you’re honest.
Peeling open Bananagrams suits me better than Ponging in Mahjong. Honestly, what games are you playing with the stuff in your closet?
January is almost done and it didn’t do you in, so on to February. A different dry and for many, a much harder one- not buying. Not going cold turkey, but a selective spending moratorium where you do the selecting.
If you’re still with me, here’s the plan. Pick the one area of spending that you’d most like to rein in. Clothes, tall lattes, books, decorative doodads, fast food, gadgets… you know your Achilles’ heel. Most of us have lots of heels, but for now, pick one. And for the next twenty-eight days, go dry. I promise you won’t go naked, hungry, ill-informed or bored. Remember you’re already flush with whatever it is you’ve decided not to buy.
Tomorrow is Day One. You’ve got enough time to decide where you’re going dry and not a lot of time to cheat by front loading purchases today. The letter of the law and the spirit of the law both want respect.
Take heart. You’re stronger than you think. It’s not a total drought and it is a short month. Keep me posted. I’ll do the same.
Aside: I was trying to decide if Achilles needed an apostrophe. The grammarian in my computer didn’t scold me for not using one, but it didn’t look right. This is one of those things that apparently can go either way- no right or wrong which seems more wrong than right.
“Is There Such a Thing as Too Much Beauty?” was the NYTimes headline about men’s wear fashion shows in Paris. I’d ask a different question. “Is there too much not-so- beautiful stuff parading around that shouldn’t be?” Yes, there is too much.
Ration your passion for fashion. Blame the Spelling Bee for inspiring that dreadful rhyme. But it’s still a good idea to keep fashion trends at arm’s length lest you find yourself wearing too much or not enough and having no idea where to wear any of it.
Can you stomach another Spare? One without a book deal or tell-all interviews.
I’m a fan of spare. A spare tire or spare change when you need it is a good thing. Who doesn’t relish a bit of spare time? A spare rib is delicious. Using something sparingly suggests prudent and thoughtful consumption. Lots to like, isn’t there.
The boots on the left belonged to a friend who was sick. On a visit, she noticed I was wearing the same boots and commented matter-of-factly that she’d probably worn hers for the last time. Maybe it was just serendipity but these Australian boots aren’t common in Charlotte. They’re not fashionable, but if they suit you, they’re keepers. Mine are at least a decade old, hers are even older. “Buy the best and you only weep once.” comes to mind.
As you can see, hers are now mine. When mine give out or just need a break, I’ve got my spare! A pair, not an heir casts spare in a more noble light. I think my friend would agree. And how lucky I am to have had such a friend.
“A goal without a plan is just a wish.” cautions St. Euxpéry. Wishes are fun and sparkly. Some things will never be anything more than a wish. Like finding a unicorn or a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. No amount of planning will make those wishes come true. But if you’re aiming for a goal, not a wish, make careful plans- ambitious but achievable.
Two pieces of business management advice that translate well to everyday life: Doing things well is efficient; doing the right things well is effective. Progress has little to do with speed, but much to do with direction. (Hurtling down the westbound interstate when you should be going eastbound only gets you farther from your destination with each passing mile. The faster you go, the behinder you get.)
We bring a lot of trouble on ourselves by saying “yes” too soon and “no” too late. Not everything you think you need to do or to own needs doing or owning. Pick your goals carefully lest you end up doing battle with yourself. Most everything we own is going to bite us, so be darn sure that the satisfaction of ownership exceeds the pain from the eventual and inevitable bite.
Remember Tennyson. I’ve quoted this for years. “Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come” Poetic, but insufficient. Hope and wish are cheerful bedfellows but they need to scoot over and make room for a good plan.
Bienvenue 2023!
A lot has been written about buyer’s remorse-because it happens a lot. Pandemic purchases have only made the problem worse. Fill in the blank. I hate my… Peleton, fire pit, air fryer, designer handbag… why did I buy it? Stores and online sites spend heavily to entice us to buy things we don’t need and maybe don’t even want. We shop when we’re bored, sad, happy, flush, broke. Any excuse or no excuse- shopping is what we do. An internet connection and a credit card are adult pacifiers.
So how do we avoid our next shopping mistake? The simplest way is simply to wait. Putting a bit of space between the impulse to purchase and actually doing so can save us a lot of regret. Waiting will clearly distinguish needs from wants. Some things really can’t wait without unfortunate consequences. But everything else (probably the lion’s share), can.
It might be too late to avoid regrets about holiday purchases and pandemic indulgences, but it’s not too late to mend your ways. Mind the gap. Wait. Not every itch needs to be scratched. I’m taking my own advice. In The Holiday Gift Guide, replete with time-saving, expert-vetted gifts, a pair of snappy sunglasses caught my eye. I have a pair of sunglasses that work just fine, but I like the looks of these keyhole shades better. This itch goes squarely in the “wants” column. I’ve marked my calendar for June 27, 2023 which is National Sunglass Day. My bet is that I’ll be relieved, not remorseful to have waited.
Here’s the first of the best beauty looks from the British Fashion Awards as reported in Vogue. The rest didn’t seem any better. Prevailing, but not for long.
As Oscar Wilde said, “Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to change it every six months.” I’ve loved this quote since I first read it, but I’m not so sure that Wilde really meant it. Brief “research” reveals that Oscar was a dapper dresser, a real dandy and pleased for others to so note. From an 1882 press release on arrival in NYC… “His outer garment was a long ulster trimmed with two kinds of fur, which reached almost to his feet. He wore patent-leather shoes, a smoking-cap or turban, and his shirt might be termed ultra-Byronic, or perhaps—décolleté. A sky-blue cravat of the sailor style hung well down upon the chest.”
it seems when it comes to renouncing fashion, Wilde doth protest too much. The British Fashion Awards seem more honest. I think they know what they’re peddling is ephemeral malarky. Fashion you buy. Style you possess.
The top picture is real life. I’ve seen it. It’s a spectacular mess. I have only seen the lower one in Marie Kondo’s carefully curated new book on embracing the Japanese lifestyle. It’s a wonder anything gets done at either of them. Lot’s of stuff competing for the worker’s attention in one and not a damn thing to do in the other.
Surely these two desks are the extremes- betwixt messy and meticulous is where most of us land. Maybe trash cans could be the proxy for where you fall on the tidy desk continuum. No trash can = compulsively tidy or idle. A 32 gallon giant = compulsively cluttered or brimming with ideas and projects.
I’m betting the distribution is bell shaped- oblivious-to-mess, hanging on the left and obsessively-neat, anchoring right. I’m probably one standard deviation from the right- which doesn’t make it “right”. It’s a matter of what’s enough- for you, Not me, Marie or the cluttered genius. Enough is as good as a feast and far better than famine.
When stuffed and stuffing are behind you, consider plan old stuff. More, less or just right? It’s up to you. You might not need a 32 gallon trash bin, but it’s hard to imagine not needing at least a small one. I’m going to empty mine now.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Where are your “needles”?
You’ll get a lot more done with a lot less frustration if you have a place for everything and everything is in its place. Haystacks are generally big and messy. Holmes was right; it really is “Elementary”.
Accurately keep time.
That’s what my watch can do. And it’s all I want from my watch. I don’t even want a second hand or a day/date. I’m not timing a moon launch and if I don’t know what day it is, the hour probably doesn’t matter. The always amusing Gear & Gadgets column in the WSJ didn’t disappoint. The featured“wearables” (formerly known as watches) were so tricked out they put the Swiss Army knife to shame.
“Multiband GPS, Compass, TracBack (to retrace your steps when you’re so lost that the compass is no help), Siren, Depth Finder, Step Counter, Sleep Tracker, Body Temp taker, Stress Assessor, Mood Minder, Electrocardiogram- blending analog style with a Silicon Valley aesthetic that meets US Military Standard 810g level of durability.” What? Sounds like a bill of goods to me.
More is seldom the answer. The answer is usually less. If you don’t need a tricked out watch, don’t be tricked into buying one. Features you do not want and will not use are not features-they’re mistakes. Trick or treat? Watch out!
