So Sallie Says

It’s July 2, the exact midpoint of the year, which is, I guess, a reason to celebrate. Normally, I observe minor life moments by treating myself to something that costs at least $140 and has free 2-day shipping, but as I’m sure you recall this is my self-declared low-buy year so instead of feeding the capitalist beast I will just reflect inwardly on my journey like a monk.

In January I committed to a full year of buying no new clothes to try to curb my online shopping habit. I included caveats for replacing worn-out necessities or things that no longer fit post-baby. So far, I haven’t totally failed. I’ve bent the rules, rationalized a few things, and ghosted online carts more than a few times, but overall, I’ve stayed true to the integrity of the experiment.

It’s still too soon to tell if come January 1, 2026 I will remain steadfast or immediately binge-buy – not enough time has passed to completely disconnect from capitalist society and I just don’t have what it takes to go off the grid (or to Goodwill) at this time. But, I do think way more critically about purchases than I did previously – and that includes everything, not just my clothes.

Before, it was like I physically could not not buy something if it sparked even one molecule of serotonin. (Which, yes, could probably be unpacked with a licensed therapist.) Now, I can pause, and realize that $18 is actually too much for an infant’s bathing suit just because it’s cute, or that the Target dollar section is predatory.

I wish I could say that it’s been easier expected, but no — this has required real self-restraint. The hardest parts are definitely spring, summer, fall, and winter, and I haven’t even gotten to two of those seasons yet. The ads are relentless and have us feeling like we need a new wardrobe every time the temperature fluctuates by five degrees. Based on my algorithm you would think I need a different bathing suit for every day of the summer.

What I have bought

I won’t pretend I’ve spent zero dollars. I bought a pair of $15 sunglasses (RIP to my Ray-Bans, wherever you are), a $10 Walmart lounge set for no good reason, and two bathing suits totaling $180—a scam, yes, but we spend a lot of time at the pool, and finding something wearable during the postpartum/breastfeeding era is, unfortunately, not free.

I did get the shoppies really bad about a month ago, so after days of obsessing over a tennis dress I felt would spiritually complete me, I compromised with Nuuly, a clothing rental service that delivers six items to you each month. I’ve received two boxes so far and while it is certainly not life-changing it satisfied an itch. I tend to over-justify new purchases by convincing myself that I love them, when in reality I’m just excited about something new. I probably won’t continue Nuuly, but I thank the shopping gods for offering me this loophole.

In Conclusion: Fewer Things, More Thinking

This low-buy year is turning into a slow excavation of something deeper. I’m realizing that buying new things doesn’t transform me into someone more interesting or “together.” It just makes me someone with less closet space and more returns to process.

I’m more discerning of marketing, and suspicious of the sense of urgency it creates. And when I do break a rule, it doesn’t feel indulgent— it feels like I’m bailing on a promise I made to myself. Guilt is a powerful emotion.

So, if you see me in the same five outfits all summer, go ahead and mind your business. I’m doing inner work.