So Sallie Says

At the beginning of the year of our Lord 2025, I decided (among other New Years resolutions) that I would reject my most innate characteristic, which has been programmed into my unique DNA since the dawn of time. That’s right, I made the brave decision to not buy any clothes or accessories for a whole year.

Here are three truths: I am addicted to shopping, highly impulsive, and easily overwhelmed by clutter. Combined, these traits have manifested as a cyclical purchase-purge-repurchase prison of my own design. The Apple Pay dopamine hit is rivaled only by getting rid of things one year later when I realize that my brief but manic obsession with the color green made me look ill.

The reality of how bad and gross this habit is (green sweaters aside) really started depressing me, so in January I committed to a Low Buy Year (there are mixed reviews from the community on if it’s better to abstain for a shorter and perhaps more easily attainable time period, but I personally love dramatic gestures).

I gave myself a few rules and exceptions, thinking about what my “Danger Categories” were (e.g., highly flammable clothes from Amazon, organizational gadgets, and anything constantly peddled on Instagram). January Sallie anticipated needing a few replacement items and a new pair of work pants, trusting Future Sallie to make conscious decisions that prioritized comfort and confidence in my newly postpartum body.

We’re now well into Q2 and I have to say: it is startling how different the world looks from four months ago, and not just because of how much money I’ve saved. We are headed into a recession and I’ve unexpectedly had to take a leave of absence from work, cutting our household’s income in half. It seems like everyone is shifting into some version of anti-consumption or austerity measures, so once again it looks like I was ahead of the curve.

So while my Low Buy Year has become less of a recreational challenge and more of an economic necessity, here are a few things I’ve discovered so far:

• Ad immunity: Nightly scrolling (while still full of doom) became more freeing when I could just glide past targeted ads and linked outfits instead of imagining how those products would drastically improve my life.
• Shopping my closet: I was always building outfits around whatever had just arrived in the mail rather than what felt right or looked best. Now, I’ve been able to appreciate the clothes I already have without feeling like I continually need to make room for new stuff.
• Pièce de résistance: When I’m in a well-curated store full of psychological priming tactics it’s hard to resist, but I remind myself I’m basically rewiring my brain by sheer willpower and that’s neat.
• Little things add up: I used to joke that just leaving the house cost a minimum of $80, or that getting the kids up and out early earned me a little treat. But it’s not a joke if it’s true and it was a reflection of how we structured our family time around leisure shopping and spending. Running errands is unavoidable but changing our mindset around what we actually need illuminated how reflexive buying-just-to-buy had become.
• Camaraderie helps: At the risk of sounding like I’m making the ongoing boycotts against the billionaire class and spineless corporations about me, I will say that having the winds of societal revolution in my sails certainly makes skipping the Target runs easier.

I’m proud that I’ve stuck to my resolve so far because if there’s one thing I am it’s a quitter. But in this scenario, it’s kind of like I’m quitting capitalistic greed, so I’m still technically staying true to myself (AND I don’t have to try on bathing suits this year).