I’m sure that, by now, everyone’s heard about boy/girl math, such being the nature of viral trends. So I wanna talk today about another kind of arithmetic.

Adina’s Shopping Math.

Now, you may be wondering, “does math even come into Adina’s shopping?!” and, if so, you are forgiven. I am very fortunate when it comes to my closet. (And my life in general.) I have all the clothes I need, and plenty more besides. With patience and some thrifting luck, I’ve been able to get most of the things my heart has desired over the years. And when it comes to the things I love — whether it’s clothes, or books, or home décor — I don’t hesitate to “indulge” myself year-round, not just for special occasions. But there are limits to my “guilt-free” spending. Price caps, if you will. Actually, I’ve taken to calling these “no math limits”. So, you see, math does come into it.

[Pause here for an important sidebar. I hate using the terms “indulge” and “guilt” (or “guilt-free”) almost as much as I hate the term “investment” in this context, but they are basically the shorthand that we have all been conditioned to use when speaking about personal discretionary spending. This terminology comes loaded with baggage — implicit value judgments and connotations that can contribute to a dysfunctional or toxic relationship with money and material possessions. That’s why I am making a conscious effort to reframe the way I talk about this topic.]

What is a “no math limit”? Basically, it’s a price point below which I will purchase things without engaging in any higher value math. More on that later. I don’t have a single universal “no math limit”; it depends on the category and type of purchase involved. And “no math limits” only apply to certain categories in the first place, specifically the ones that represent the things I’m most passionate about — as noted above, clothes, books, art/crafts and home décor. Discretionary purchases outside of those categories always involve higher value math.

I think it helps to illustrate what I’m talking about by using hard numbers, but please don’t get hung up on the specific figures; they’re personal to me and in no way intended as a prescriptive guide for anyone else.

In general, I will buy any one item (from one of the above categories) if it’s $20 or less without giving it much thought beyond “do I like it/want to read it/make something with it”. That’s a “no math limit”. With clothing, if it’s an item I REALLY want and have been searching for a while — say, a specific vintage Ralph Lauren piece — then my “no math limit” is around $100. Furniture is also an outlier, in that, if it’s a piece that my husband and I both agree we like, the “no math limit” is somewhere in the region of $250.

But what if an item I’m considering for purchase doesn’t have a “no math limit” or exceeds the applicable “no math limit”?

In approaching the decision whether to buy something or not, my goal is to avoid engaging a scarcity mindset. Before I go on to explain, let me pause here again and note that I am writing this from the perspective of someone with generous disposable income, who is not dealing with financial insecurity. When I talk about scarcity mindset in this context, it is not actual scarcity that is the issue; it is the feeling or belief that one “doesn’t have enough” or doesn’t feel “secure” about what they have, without a rational basis for that belief (in other words, the person is actually financially secure and able to meet their basic needs and more). In a lot of people who experience it — myself included — scarcity mindset can be an expression of past (financial or other) trauma. In my case, having my entire life uprooted twice in a short span of time (at age 12 and 15) and experiencing a measure of financial hardship as a result, meant that it took me years to feel “secure” — not just financially, but in a lot of different ways.

It is also worth pointing out that capitalism encourages a scarcity mindset even outside of any personal trauma. Despite the overabundance of stuff being produced all the time, people are made to feel like they are constantly in danger of “missing out”, that there is always more that they need all the time — more money, more stuff, more experiences.

As I have become more aware of this mindset over the years, I have been actively trying to disrupt its manifestation in my behaviour and the decisions I make — whether it’s something as minor as buying a new coat, or as fundamental as how I want to design my life.

Ok, so what does that look like?

Well, when it comes to buying a (discretionary) item without or outside a “no math limit”, here are the questions I ask myself to avoid approaching the decision from a scarcity mindset:

(1) can I afford it?

(2) is the enjoyment that the item would bring me represent the best value I can get right now from the money it takes to acquire that thing?

(3) does the enjoyment of the item outweigh the cost of owning it?

This is what I’m calling “higher value math”. (See, I told you I would bring this full circle).

Let’s break this down quickly.

The first question is table stakes stuff. When I am deciding whether I can afford something, I mean specifically whether it’s within my budget for discretionary spending. That means (a) I have the money in the bank and don’t need to rely on credit; (b) that money is available after all other budget line items (including savings) have been met. I call this table stakes stuff, but it’s actually also a reflection of personal priorities; financial security is important to me.

The second question is fairly self-evident; money is a finite resource, we want to get the most bang for our buck. What represents the “most bang” is a deeply subjective assessment that is fundamentally rooted in one’s own value system. There are many things that money can buy, and not all of those things will be equally meaningful to us. Things can also be more or less meaningful at different times in our lives, and in comparison to other things we already possess.

As for the third question, you might be wondering “what is the cost of owning something, apart from its purchase price?” Well, some things require cleaning and maintenance, which can involve both time and effort as well as out-of-pocket costs. Other things merely require storage, but this, too, can come with cost implications. (Just ask my husband who’s had to built multiple libraries for me.) And there is an intangible cost too; taking responsibility for an item requires some measure of emotional bandwidth because we should care about the things we own.

For me, this higher value math has been extremely effective in guiding my shopping decisions. I think it’s important to mention that even if I decide not to buy something based on this analysis, it doesn’t mean that I don’t still want the thing. The point isn’t to nuke the desire. Framing my decision in this way just means that any pent-up desire isn’t left to fester. I am not “depriving” myself, or “giving up” something. I am affirming my values and priorities, while still appreciating the appeal of the thing. If, in a few months, the desire is still there, I can always run through the math again.

Let me be clear, though: the only way this works is if one has a very clear idea of one’s values and priorities. This sounds easy, but it’s actually one of the hardest parts of adulting. Capitalist society loves to tell us what our values and priorities should be and — no surprises here — those values and priorities usually align with the interests of those who own the means of production. Sometimes the messages are downright toxic (hello, hustle culture), sometimes they’re contradictory (just try being a working mother in this economy), but rarely are they actually reflective of who we actually are or how we want to live our lives. So we have to learn to tune them out. It’s hard because, well, we still have to engage with capitalist systems every day and they produce a never-ending cacophony. But without a firm understanding of one’s own values and priorities, higher value math is useless.

Here is an example of my higher value math in action, because I always feel like examples are useful even when they are intrinsically personal and, therefore, not necessarily reproducible.

This is a vintage Ralph Lauren skirt that I deeply, deeply, DEEPLY desire.

I think you can see that it suits my aesthetic and personal preferences down to a T. Collecting vintage Ralph Lauren pieces — and I use “collecting” deliberately here — is one of my current passions. The skirt is rare-ish but there are a few available on eBay, with list prices usually hovering around $600CAD — an amount that is available to me for discretionary spending, but far above my “no math” limit. I have, in fact, spent similar amounts on individual pieces of clothing in the past, though not recently (actually, at a time when my life and priorities looked quite different than they do now). Having considered the higher value math equation, I have chosen not to buy the skirt at this time.

I still love it. I am still keeping an eye on eBay listings, and actively looking for it on Poshmark. But this skirt isn’t going to give me the most enjoyment I can get, at this time, from $600. I have a lot of other skirts I love (which doesn’t make this one any less special, btw) and $600 could buy me a lot of, say, books or hours of treasure-hunting at the thrifts. Maybe some day the skirt will give me more enjoyment than those other things; maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll stop loving it as much as I do right now. Maybe I’ll find it for a price that results in the high value math giving me a different answer. Hard to say. But, today, I am happy with my decision, regret-free, and FOMO-less.

And that’s some math I can really get behind.

Details: vintage sweater (thrifted), Banana Republic jeans, Mia shoes (both retail), Coach bag (eBay)

Thoughts: Doesn’t this sweater look like a classic Hudson’s Bay 4 stripe sweater? I’ve always loved that pattern. Well, it isn’t. It’s some random Manitoba brand label, and I’m pretty sure it’s some unholy acrylic blend but I don’t care because it’s chunky and cozy and *vibes*. I mean, just look at how good it looks with my mom’s old Coach bag and my trusty BR wide leg jeans. A perfect fall outfit.

Details: Ralph Lauren sweater (gift), Ralph Lauren blazer (thrift), DKNY skirt (Poshmark), Anne Marie Chagnon necklace (Poshmark), Zara boots (thrifted)

Thoughts: Here is my fave 90s skirt, and another 90s-inspired fit. I loved this so much. This is how I do minimalism: simple but with interesting details. Lots of textural contrast here too, which also helps make minimalist colour palettes more fun for me.

Details: Ralph Lauren blazer (Poshmark), Oak & Fort turtleneck & jeans (thrifted), Gap belt (thrifted), Mia shoes (retail), Coach bag (trade)

Thoughts: OK, this blazer. It’s so good right? When I saw it posted on Poshmark for under $50, I tell you — I squealed like an excited schoolgirl. Ralph Lauren pieces have seen more inflation on the resale market than my grocery store. It’s getting SO hard to find to good deals, and this … this is a GREAT deal. It’s exactly the kind of blazer I adore (wool, professor-chic), and it’s a plaid colourway I don’t have. The colours are fantastic and those real suede elbow patches? Chef’s kiss. I wore this outfit to my kids’ parent-teacher meetings, so I kept things pretty simple, sticking with a brown/black/denim palette. I’ve been obsessed with black-and-brown this fall, and I think this outfit speaks for itself.

Details: Zara top, Jones NY blazer, Roksanda skirt (all thrifted), Chloe shoes (gift)

Thoughts: I wore this outfit on a rare day at the office. I tend to stick with a neutral palette when I go to the office. I don’t know why; our office had a relatively relaxed dress code even before the WFH/hybrid work schedules became a thing. I think it’s just what I still associate in my mind with “office wear”. I liked this outfit a lot (wouldn’t have worn it otherwise) but I’m glad it’s not my daily uniform. I like the freedom to dress a lot more creatively at home.

Details: Ralph Lauren sweater (gift), Silverado jacket (gift), Cotton Ginny belt (thrifted), BR jeans (retail), Chloe shoes (gift)

Thoughts: This outfit was made possible by 2 kind friends giving me things that weren’t working for them. The sweater and shoes came from J, and have been in almost-constant rotation since I got them. The cream cable knit, in particular, has turned into a cornerstone of my fall/winter wardrobe this year. It goes with nearly everything! The jacket came from S, and it is beyond fabulous. I love the pattern and the colours so much. It’s really more of a mid- to lightweight jacket, so best saved for warmer weather, but I couldn’t resist getting in at least one wear this year. When I tell you I’ve been imploring Mother Nature to hold off on the snow for now, you’ll understand why.

Details: Benetton sweater, Oak & Fort jeans, Converse shoes (all thrifted)

Thoughts: About 10 years ago, I bought my first pair of Chucks. I know because I recently came across the photo I took in the store that day on my IG feed. At the time, I debated between getting a grey pair and a red pair. Grey won out … but a decade later, I finally got my red pair too. To be honest, while I got lots of use out of my grey pair over the years (and I still have those shoes, by the way), red is SO much more my speed these days. The only problem? I am, ummm, sharing custody of these shoes with my daughter. Yes, we can basically wear the same shoes (there’s about a half size difference). On one hand, it’s fun. On the other hand … I’m a little scared, hahaha!

Details: Mexx shirt (Poshmark), American Apparel coat, Kimchi Blue pants, Asos boots (all thrifted), vintage bag (from my mom)

Thoughts: I had this vintage (made in Hong Kong!) Mexx shirt on my Poshmark watchlist for a long time before I finally decided to go for it. I’m glad I did; the collage-like pattern is so cool, and the colours — black, brown and yellow — are totally up my alley right now. I stuck with that theme, and added grey, bookending things with the jacket collar, bag and shoes in my fave shade of brown. A very satisfying outfit.

We are coming up on the time of year that always feels the heaviest to me. The change in weather and diminishing daylight affect my mood negatively; November feels especially somber because (in Canada) there are no festive occasions to lighten things up. This year, though, I want to lean into the transition rather than fight it. November is a downward and inward movement – into the slumber of winter, into one’s subconscious. (I like to think of it as the season of Persephone Descending.) Being able to experience this in a warm, safe environment is a privilege I don’t take for granted. I am never more grateful for my cozy cocoon of a house than I am this time of year.

To honour the season, this year I am adopting a few slow rituals. These are activities that require me to slow down, pay attention to my senses, and fully immerse myself in what I am doing in the moment. They help to bring intentionality and mindfulness into my days. I do most of these early in the morning, as a way to set the mood.

Light a Candle

I have become a fan of scented candles in the last few years, but I never burn them in the spring and summer months. To me, they are a quintessentially winter experience. Lighting them and watching the soft glow of the flame is soothing. Having a fragrant working space (at home) is a bonus. I like Paddywax candles, but I also use Sand & Fog and other brands – it’s really all about the scent for me. I love woodsy, smoky, and light floral smells the most. I usually light a candle near my office space right before I start working in the morning, and let it burn for a couple of hours. The scent can linger, then slowly fade. I sometimes also light candles in the evening, as a nighttime ritual before bed.

Make a Cup of Tea

I am not a big tea drinker, and I rarely drink tea in the warmer months. But, lately, I have been rediscovering the joy of tea (especially as I am trying to cut down on my consumption of diet Coke, my staple beverage). Buying a new kettle has transformed the process for me as well. We hadn’t had a proper kettle for more than a decade, and boiling water in a pot on the stove was a hassle. Our new Smeg kettle is a delight, though. Filling it up and pressing the little lever to start it is part of the tactile joy of making a cuppa. So is selecting a mug from my thrifted collection. For the tea itself, I am partial to David’s Tea Forever Nuts and Acquired Taste Lemon Cream, but I also enjoy Earl Grey and roiboos teas. When I’m having the latter, I have started to add milk as well to make it a richer tasting experience.

Use a Fountain Pen

I have a lovely collection of Lamy pens but had fallen out of the habit of using them. After years of gel pens and Sharpie markers (and don’t get me wrong, I still love those), I’ve picked up my fountain pens again, especially for writing at work. Refilling the ink is an important part of the process, as is selecting the colour. I use Iroshizuku inks, which have lovely colours and flow beautifully. Writing with a fountain pen also transforms my writing; I slow down and write more neatly and with a more rounded hand.

Wear Perfume

After I started working from home, I pretty much stopped using perfume (much like I stopped wearing makeup most days). But wearing perfume for oneself is not unlike getting dressed up for oneself (which I’ve always continued to do): it feels luxurious. It is a sensual delight, and slow rituals are all about appreciating our senses. I only have a couple of perfumes at the moment: By the Fireplace from Maison Margiela, and Butterfly from Hanae Mori. I am planning to buy a couple more – perhaps revisiting some old favourites in the process.

Write in a Journal

This is another habit that fell victim to my hectic schedule this year. Because I have other outlets for creative writing, keeping a diary feels like more like updating a written calendar than a creative exercise. It doesn’t appeal to me from my perspective. But I enjoy journaling as a meditative exercise; I’ve been writing in this Moon Journal for years now (it’s supposed to be weekly, but we can all make our own schedules) and I have picked it up again. I love the prompts, especially because many of them encourage you to focus on the senses. I usually journal in the evenings (alternating with tarot meditations) as a way to unwind from and release the day.

These slow rituals have allowed me to enter the dark time of the year in a more gentle and loving manner, which in turn has had a positive impact on my mental wellbeing. I think anything can serve as a slow ritual, depending on one’s personality and preferences, as long as it involves taking time to really savour the moment and sink into a sensory experience. I would love to hear from you about your own slow rituals and other ways that you navigate this season.