At the beginning of the year, I wrote about my goal of shopping more mindfully and intentionally going forward. As I’ve been working on it, and working through my thoughts on consumption and consumer culture more general as I write my book (more on that later), my perspective has been evolving — and my approach along with it. I wanted to document that process here, as I think it’s a useful companion piece to my shopping- and style-oriented posts. Most of the time, on social media and elsewhere, we are presented with the results of consumption without any context, divorced from its real-life implications, personal or societal. And I think context is important when we are trying to align our actions with our values.

My original focus had been to make more intentional decisions about my clothes shopping, but that has been expanded significantly. The more I started to pay attention to what (clothes) I was buying and thinking about why I wanted or didn’t want to buy them, the more I realized it was a broader issue. I want to be more intentional about all of my consumption, not just clothing. There are certain questions I now try to ask myself every time I am considering a non-essential, discretionary purchase. I say “try to” because this level of mindfulness represents a new habit — one that very much goes against our socio-cultural conditioning in a capitalist society — and new habits take time to root. It’s easy to just follow old patterns of behaviour without even realizing it. So part of the process involves trying different means of disrupting the old patterns and reinforcing the new ones. I’ll talk about a couple of these approaches I’m trying out below, but here are the questions I’ve found helpful in guiding my reflection on purchases.

1) What value does this item bring to my life?

2) How does this item align with my vision of what my best life looks like?

3) Am I willing to take responsibility for this item?

The third question is one I have been thinking about a lot lately. As I’ve been working on my book, I’ve been reflecting not only on how I engage with consumer culture in the context of my interest in fashion, but also (more broadly) on my relationship with material things. I have come to believe that capitalism has fundamentally and detrimentally impacted the way we relate to material things, i.e. the things we buy and consume. This is especially true with clothing. Clothing has become so cheap and so poorly made which leads people to view it as disposable. If something is disposable, we are not inclined to be mindful about it — either in the way we buy it, or the way we consume it, or the way we dispose of it. To different extents, depending on a variety of factors including price and societal messaging, I think the same mentality applies to all consumer goods.

Overproduction of cheap goods is an enormous burden on our planet; cheap goods take a huge amount of resources to produce, and also to dispose. To manufacture a pair of jeans, it take take up to 7,000 liters of water and produce about 20.04 kg of CO₂ (the equivalent of driving about 42 miles in your car) — not to mention the human labour involved. Then there are the resources required to get those jeans from the factory to the customer. (Lots of carbon emissions involved there.) And on the back end? What’s the impact of a pair of jeans — one of millions — in the landfill? Now multiply that across not just the fashion industry but other sectors of retail. Think, for example, of all that plastic seasonal décor that gluts stores several times a year. How much of that is used just once, then tossed? How much of that is truly recycled or reused? Sure, some of it can be kept in circulation via thrift stores, but how much? Or how little, rather. When new goods are so cheap and accessible, most people aren’t motivated to go to a thrift store for their, say, Easter decoration needs.

I think this mentality can be changed, but it requires us to look at things differently — and not through capitalism’s preferred lens. What if I told you: if you buy this pair of jeans, you are now responsible for it. Responsible to the the person who made it, while breathing in a bunch of toxic chemicals working upwards of 12 hours a day and making less than a living wage. Responsible to the planet and everyone else who lives here. Responsible to take care of those jeans while they are in your possession, and also responsible for a disposal plan (should you no longer wish to own them) that minimizes environmental impacts. Wouldn’t that give you pause?

It’s a huge burden — at least, it feels that way to me. It really does make me think very, very hard about what I’m buying. For a start, it really helps me to focus and be very honest with myself about the value proposition. How much value does this non-essential item bring to my life and is that worth the responsibility? Quality becomes much more important. Why would I invest so much time and energy (to meet my obligations as a responsible owner) in an item that’s crappy quality? It’s so much harder to ensure that the item has a future after me, if it’s crappy — why would anyone else want a crappy secondhand item? When it comes to clothes, in particular, this is a very important consideration. “If I don’t like it, I’ll just donate it” is not a viable disposal plan unless there is a reasonable prospect that someone else will want to buy it. So, basically, thrift stores cannot be our answer to Shein clothing.

I want to be clear here that my perspective is very much geared towards discretionary consumption within an affluent (or relatively so) demographic. I believe our responsibilities as consumers are in proportion to our degree of privilege and power.

One thing I’ve started to do, as part of my efforts to entrench these questions and this framework of consumption into my daily life, is to track what I call “no spend” days. Basically, I keep track of days when I make no purchases that represent discretionary consumption. In this context, “consumption” is mostly concerned with material objects, but can also include some types of services, like beauty treatments. My goal with this exercise isn’t to track spending from the financial side; it’s to prompt me to take notice of when I am making decisions that involve consumption, so that I can make sure to ask myself the necessary questions. I am not including what I would deem “essential” consumption — food, utilities, home maintenance costs, insurance, etc. — because, well, existing in the world makes some level of consumption unavoidable, and I feel like the best focus for my attention is on the “extra” stuff.

I have no specific targets for my no-spend days, though I do like having uninterrupted streaks — my longest so far being 5 days. I don’t want to “gamify” this process too much because I feel that would result in redirecting the focus away from what I am concerned with. It’s not about how much I spend or when I spend or even if I spend. It’s about making sure that if and when I spend, it’s mindful and intentional. Let me put it this way: if I only had one “spend” day a month, and it involved a dozen mindless purchases, that wouldn’t be a win in my book.

Another exercise I started doing was keeping a running list of items I was tempted to buy but didn’t. I’ve been doing this a lot, in particular, with Poshmark listings. I still regularly check the app, as I am looking for very specific things and want to make sure I’m in the right place at the right time if the ideal listing pops up. But in doing so, I inevitably come across other items that appeal to me. I add them to my “liked” list so I can keep track of them, but I try to wait at least a few days before I make any buying decisions, to give myself enough time to reflect on my questions. Often, items sell during that time; or I eventually decide than I don’t really need/want them. At that point, I put them on my “didn’t buy” list. It’s something I can look back on later, whenever I need a reminder that some desires are, in fact, momentary. It also helps me to keep track of prices on items that I’m still interested in (but haven’t yet committed to buying). I’ve been doing this with vintage Coach bags, in particular; I am looking for certain specific ones, but I will keep track of similar bags I find and don’t buy online, and jot down the prices at which they sold. It’s a good way of staying on top of the market, which helps me to assess the prices of future listings.

I’ve only been actively doing these exercise for a little over a month now, but I can confidently say that they’re helping me to change my habits, little by little. I know there is a lot to unpack here, and a lot more that I am still working my way through in my own mind, but I hope you will find some of it useful or interesting in the context of your own experiences.

And, yes, I am writing a book. It will be a memoir about my search for identity and the role of fashion/personal style in that process. But also about so much more — consider this post a little taste of that. I am now wrapping up my first round of edits, and hope to have a fully revised draft in the next couple of months. Beyond that, I don’t know what, if anything, will happen. It feels too overwhelming — and counter-productive to my creative process — to think about how (or if) I want to put my writing out into the world. I’ll keep you posted on that 😉

Details: Wilfred vest, Ralph Lauren skirt, Escada blazer, Rafael Alfandary necklace (all secondhand), J. Crew shoes (retail, old)

Thoughts: I haven’t worn much red in years, but this vest has been like a shot of adrenaline to my closet. It’s what I consider my “best” red — a poppy red, slightly orange-leaning shade. I had to pair it first with this skirt, to pick up on the pattern of the skirt. It feels like such an electric combination somehow. Kept the outfit very simple, but felt smashing in it.

Details: Wilfred sweater, Topshop dress, Jones NY blazer, BR belt (all secondhand)

Thoughts: Can you believe I’ve had this dress for 3 years and this is the first time I’m wearing it as “separates”? That must be a record for dresses in my closet, as this styling “hack” is one of my favourites. I adore the contrast polka dots pattern and wanted to make it the focal point of the outfit, so I kept everything else very neutral. This grey blazer is a great option for outfits where black would be too overwhelming; here, I think that a black blazer would have made the outfit feel unbalanced, with the top too visually “heavy” compared to the bottom. What makes this blazer perfect is that black velvet collar which brings in just a touch of black, so the grey doesn’t feel too disconnected from the rest of the outfit.

Details: Ralph Lauren shirt, Talbots dress, J. Crew necklace & shoes (all secondhand)

Thoughts: It’s taken me years but I am finally a convert to the power of a crisp white (men’s) shirt. It took me a while but I finally found the perfect one at the thrifts — vintage RL, of course. Here, I paired it with my vintage wool Talbots dress for a super classic combination. I love the simplicity of the clean lines and subtle accessorizing.

Details: Frank & Oak turtleneck, Pitlochry sweater, Ports blazer, Icone skirt, Fossil belt, Dooney bag, Zara shoes (all secondhand)

Thoughts: I loved this outfit so much! I can’t explain why, but I felt incredibly cool in it. Historian off-duty all the way, in the best way. This vintage made-in-Scotland sweater is one of my fave recent thrift finds; I love the colour palette and the design, and it’s in fantastic shape for being thick, Shetland wool. The skirt is another recent find and while I swore off buying black skirts a while back, I had to make an exception for this one because it’s my favourite silhouette and it’s made from a wide-wale corduroy fabric. I am obsessed with corduroy at the moment! In fact, this is a double corduroy outfit, with the jacket being cord as well (albeit very fine wale). I think the skirt was a great buy, as I can see it working very well with my current aesthetic; it’s a good colour and texture pairing for all the brown and wool/tweeds I’m doing. I decided to let go of an older black skirt to make room for it (and that one went to my daughter, so it’s still kicking about!).

Details: Club Monaco turtleneck (retail, old), Eaton vest, Akris jacket, Joseph belt, Tignanello bag (all secondhand), BR jeans (retail)

Thoughts: This Akris jacket was another recent thrift find that I had to grab because (a) the quality is so good, which is harder and harder to find these days, and (b) it intrigued me. It’s a bit on the periphery of my current aesthetic, but could be a direction worth exploring. I’m kinda feeling the 70s preppy vibes — like, the Historian on an Ivy campus in the 70s, you know? It worked really well with this jeans, for a start. A good start, I think. Let’s see where it goes from here.

Details: Ralph Lauren turtleneck, Denim & Supply dress, If By Sea shacket, BR belt, Laredo boots (all secondhand)

Thoughts: It’s been a hot minute since I wore this dress, so I decided it was time to get it out again. I was thinking about how to wear it (outside, on the weekend) and remembered this shacket. Plaid on plaid is always alright in my books, plus the colours play together nicely. Luckily, the weather decided to cooperate for once — it’s been very up and down lately, after getting us used to a mild season. I am definitely ready for spring, though. More dresses and more spring jackets, please!

Details: Ralph Lauren shirt, Pendleton blazer, Cotton Ginny belt, CoH jeans (all seconhand)

Thoughts: Another very classic outfit that is sort of a “new thing” for me. I’ve never done something quite like this before, but I was inspired by this incredible wool Pendleton blazer I picked up on Poshmark for a ridiculously low price. It’s in perfect condition and the quality is amazing. I wish the colours picked up better in photos, because I love the lush green/blue combo. Just a crisp white shirt and jeans, and I’m set!

Last year, we talked about outfit building blocks and outfit formulas, which gets us most of the way to an outfit. What’s left? Well, choosing the specific pieces to use in an outfit. This can feel tricky when colour is involved. If you fall down the rabbit hole of reading about colour theory online (much less stuff like seasonal colour analysis), it’s not difficult to feel overwhelmed. Ready for my hot take? I think all those theories can make it all seem far more complicated than it is.

Assuming no vision impairments, figuring out what colour combinations work can be very simple: just look at them. Put two pieces of clothing next to each other and check to see if they look nice together or not. That’s it. There may be a lot of science behind that, but you don’t need to know about it in order to put together a well-coordinated outfit. It’s how we can look at a person’s outfit and find it visually pleasing without having to pull out a colour wheel to confirm whether it is, in fact, a good outfit.

I don’t use a colour wheel when I’m putting together outfits; after years of practice, I have a number of favourite colour combinations, which I know work well together, but I also still experiment all the time. I start with one piece of clothing, the one I know I want to include in my outfit. Next, I pull out a bunch of different options that might be suitable for completing the outfit, ignoring colour to begin with. Say I start with a skirt (I often start with a skirt); I might pick three or four different tops or sweaters, depending on the season – maybe more, if I’m feeling really adventurous. Then I put each top next to the skirt and see how they look together. I don’t usually try anything on at this point, since that takes extra time and this is a speed elimination round. I usually have a favourite combination right off the bat, but if I narrow down my choice to, say, two tops, then I make the final decision after trying on both versions of the outfit. If I like both, I’ll wear one and make a note of the other, so I can wear it another time; this way, I’m making the most of my experimental session.

Still not convinced? Ok, here are some traditional colour theory-based “rules” to consider.

Monochromatic and analogous schemes

This one is self-explanatory: it’s about wearing the different shades and tones of the same colour head to toe. (Note: monochromatic can also be used to refer to a black and white colour scheme. That one’s a classic too.) Monochromatic can be trickier than it appears. If you look at the classic fashion colour wheel, you will see that there are at least two blues, two greens, two yellows, and so on. You may or may not have each colour sufficiently well-represented in your closet for a truly monochromatic look (unless we’re talking about neutrals like black, beige, white, etc.).

An analogous scheme can be easier to achieve: you’re looking to mix several shades that are next to each other on the colour wheel. Personally, I like to do at least three because the combination not only looks richer, but also because there is less risk of it looking like you were going for monochromatic and simply missed the boat.

Complementary schemes

Complementary colour schemes are probably the ones most people think of when it comes to colour theory: choosing colours that are directly opposite to each other on the wheel. Think pink and green, orange and blue, violet and yellow.

A split complementary scheme is similar, but instead of choosing the colour directly opposite, you choose the two colours on either side of it. For a triadic scheme, you are looking for a combination of three colours that are equidistant from each other on the wheel. Using a triadic scheme can result in very bold outfits, which can feel overwhelming to some folks, but it’s possible to tone down its impact by choosing softer or more muted shades of each colour. If you’re trying to use multiple colours in an outfit and start to feel like you’re losing your courage, it may help you to revive it if you “ground” those colours with a small amount of black – for example, a black belt.

The “cheat code”

Yeah, there’s a cheat code: a way to pick amazing colour combinations without doing any work at all. How? Find a pattern you like. It can be from your closet, your house, a book, anything. Look at the colours used in the pattern. Pick two or three. Voila! You have a colour combination you can be sure works because a professional designer with years of experience used it to create a pattern that you already love. It doesn’t get easier or more failproof than that. This, by the way, is also the easiest way to figure out how to wear patterned clothing. The simplest option is to pair a pattern with one or more solid colours; to choose complementary garments, pick colours from the pattern itself. If you want to pattern mix in advanced mode, you can choose different patterns that feature similar colour palettes. Start with black and white patterns if you’re feeling hesitant, and use solid white or black pieces to tie them together. I have thrown together every black and white pattern under the sun, and this approach hasn’t failed me yet.

If you’re feeling more adventurous, use the same approach but expand the colour palette; choose patterns in similar colours, and pick one of those colours to emphasize via accessories or a solid-colour third piece. For example, if you have a jacket and skirt that both feature blue and orange in their respective patterns, you can pick a top in the same shade of blue; if your top and bottom are patterned and you’re not wearing a third piece, a pair of blue shoes or a blue bag can do the trick.

The bottom line, though: colour is fun! Remember how fun it was to mix paints when you were a kid and take liberties with the colour of the sky and the grass and the sun? This is exactly the same, except way less messy. Have fun with it!