who knew so much fun could emerge from a pile of crap?!
yesterday, we rounded up 10 of our ladyfriends and each arrived at erin's place armed with a bag of unwanted clothes. i'm moving next month, so it felt extremely proactive to mine the depths of my drawers (not those drawers, for anyone reading this in 19th century victorian england) well in advance of my packing frenzy. it felt sort of like getting all your christmas shopping done in august.
i'm generally pretty good about recycling clothes i don't want, so i was surprised that i still filled two cloth shopping bags with shirts and skirts and shoes and such. the trick was to get ruthless. if i couldn't remember the last time i wore it, it went into the bag. two very similar shirts? one had to walk the plank. ARRR!! SPONTANEOUS PIRATE INTERLUDE.
after a deeeeeliiiiicious breakfast of erin's homemade crepes - the kind of breakfast filled with warm weekend sunshine, laughter and more coffee - the kind that makes you look around and wonder how you managed to find a whole roomful of such beautiful and hilarious gals - we got down to the business of the clothing swap! we dumped all our bags out on the floor, and everyone was free to try on and take whatever appealed.
it was an amazingly democratic experience - it felt like what didn't work for one person naturally worked for someone else, and we managed to send the majority of clothes home with new owners. the rest we donated to goodwill.
i scored a whole bunch of rockin' stuff without spending 0.1 of a penny on any of it! i'm coming to really love the feeling of breathing new life into something that was headed into a landfill. slowly, it's becoming more gratifying than ploppin' down $50 for something new. once you start to approach each day with that goal, it becomes a bit of a mission, a challenge in a world that really doesn't reward it.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
a new love!
spent a glorious sunday last weekend exploring the antique markets in roncesvalles! come november, i might have a different feeling on this, but for now anyway, i really can't remember what was so great about first-hand shopping.
at wal-mart, you find the same crap everyone else has, and you walk among artifacts of a life, a time and place you already know well and understand. in an antique market, you find the quirkiest, most random things, and you learn cool little facts about how people used to live. like? at some point, salt and pepper shakers were only half the equation: the shakers used to come in groups of four: salt, pepper, flour and sugar! sugar was once consumed in sprinkles and dashes, not pints and quarts like it is today. it's such a quiet detail in someone's mundane kitchen somewhere, but when you think about the insane rates of obesity, ADD and diabetes we live with today, it suddenly starts to speak louder.
you also have so much more space to dream in an antique market, because you come across things that are either obsolete, or whose purpose isn't immediately clear. so you can put thumbtacks into an old leather shaving strap and use it for reminder notes! or you can use an old industrial factory cart for the base of a table!
at wal-mart, you find the same crap everyone else has, and you walk among artifacts of a life, a time and place you already know well and understand. in an antique market, you find the quirkiest, most random things, and you learn cool little facts about how people used to live. like? at some point, salt and pepper shakers were only half the equation: the shakers used to come in groups of four: salt, pepper, flour and sugar! sugar was once consumed in sprinkles and dashes, not pints and quarts like it is today. it's such a quiet detail in someone's mundane kitchen somewhere, but when you think about the insane rates of obesity, ADD and diabetes we live with today, it suddenly starts to speak louder.
you also have so much more space to dream in an antique market, because you come across things that are either obsolete, or whose purpose isn't immediately clear. so you can put thumbtacks into an old leather shaving strap and use it for reminder notes! or you can use an old industrial factory cart for the base of a table!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
the cotton ball thief
here's how this experiment is forcing me to confront the difficult question of what i "need".
i run out of things.
and because i've agreed to buy only essentials this year, i have to make a tough call almost daily. should i replace my empty bottle of mouthwash? do i really NEED mouthwash?
some things are unquestionably essential: toilet paper. toothpaste. other things are unquestionably luxuries: necklaces. bubble bath. but there is a third class of thing that straddles the line between "essential" and "luxury". mouthwash is but one example. tupperware is another. do without them, and my day has the potential to become logistically unsound. buy them, and i feel like i'm cheating.
and the reality is, anything could be considered a "want" rather than a "need." the question always comes back to just how hardcore i want to get. for example, lightbulbs. i'd say "essential"; some would say "excuse me?" it's totally fair to ask, well, wondrous sophini, why can't you take your lightbulbs out, and just live by natural light during the day, and candlelight after dark? and my answer is, "because, UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH. THAT'S WHY."
i'm finding in many cases, "need" has become synonymous with "have become accustomed to and will get all whiney without."
if i may.
i am the sort of person who has, for many years, used cotton balls to apply moisturizer to my face. yes, this is unnecessary, and no, a thing of smunched up toilet paper is not the same. it's a lady thing. just go with it. last week, i ran out of cotton balls. and i could not justify buying more. so i didn't.
then a few days ago, i went to use the pools at body blitz after work. when i was done, i briefly used the vanity room to comb out my hair. and lo, i spotted a giant glass fishbowl overflowing with cotton balls, just there for the using. "hello!" they seemed to say with their weird cotton mouths that they for sure do not have. so i used one for some moisturizer, this overly-complicated procedure ironically reminding me of a simpler time known as 2010.
at that point, no big D, but i may or may not have suddenly stuffed a fistful of 25 cotton balls down the front of my pants, and booked it out the front door into the cold january air.
i run out of things.
and because i've agreed to buy only essentials this year, i have to make a tough call almost daily. should i replace my empty bottle of mouthwash? do i really NEED mouthwash?
some things are unquestionably essential: toilet paper. toothpaste. other things are unquestionably luxuries: necklaces. bubble bath. but there is a third class of thing that straddles the line between "essential" and "luxury". mouthwash is but one example. tupperware is another. do without them, and my day has the potential to become logistically unsound. buy them, and i feel like i'm cheating.
and the reality is, anything could be considered a "want" rather than a "need." the question always comes back to just how hardcore i want to get. for example, lightbulbs. i'd say "essential"; some would say "excuse me?" it's totally fair to ask, well, wondrous sophini, why can't you take your lightbulbs out, and just live by natural light during the day, and candlelight after dark? and my answer is, "because, UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH. THAT'S WHY."
i'm finding in many cases, "need" has become synonymous with "have become accustomed to and will get all whiney without."
if i may.
i am the sort of person who has, for many years, used cotton balls to apply moisturizer to my face. yes, this is unnecessary, and no, a thing of smunched up toilet paper is not the same. it's a lady thing. just go with it. last week, i ran out of cotton balls. and i could not justify buying more. so i didn't.
then a few days ago, i went to use the pools at body blitz after work. when i was done, i briefly used the vanity room to comb out my hair. and lo, i spotted a giant glass fishbowl overflowing with cotton balls, just there for the using. "hello!" they seemed to say with their weird cotton mouths that they for sure do not have. so i used one for some moisturizer, this overly-complicated procedure ironically reminding me of a simpler time known as 2010.
at that point, no big D, but i may or may not have suddenly stuffed a fistful of 25 cotton balls down the front of my pants, and booked it out the front door into the cold january air.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
eavesdropping on trains
this morning, during my commute on a public transit system whose fastest pace rivals that of glacial formation, i found myself with a dead ipod battery, no book, and nary an abandoned newspaper in sight. that is to say, in the absence of stuff, i began to notice stuff.
i took to listening in on the various conversation fragments dancing around me. and i began to count the number of disposable consumer goods the average conversation involves. i don't think i would've even noticed if not for this year. but it turned into a sort of game, and i found myself doing it on the way home, too.
"we went over to his place for some playstation"...."the wireless on my laptop is so shitty"...."did you end up getting those shoes?"...."my phone's gonna die 'cause we're going into the subway"...
i took to listening in on the various conversation fragments dancing around me. and i began to count the number of disposable consumer goods the average conversation involves. i don't think i would've even noticed if not for this year. but it turned into a sort of game, and i found myself doing it on the way home, too.
"we went over to his place for some playstation"...."the wireless on my laptop is so shitty"...."did you end up getting those shoes?"...."my phone's gonna die 'cause we're going into the subway"...
Friday, January 14, 2011
on the table
i have taken on an important project of importance. it's very exciting and a little daunting. but mostly, i'm looking forward to learning.
i'm going to make a harvest table for our new loft!
i'm very lucky to have an uncle-in-law who lives on a commune in orillia, is an amazing teacher and mentor, is heaps of fun to hang out with, and is great with woodworking. his community has a couple of barns and a bunch of wood lying about. so we're going to salvage some of it and he's going to teach me how to choose the type of wood, plane it, finish it, attach legs, AND WHAT HAVE YOU!
there are several beautiful things about this: a) i get to learn how to make a frikkin' table, g) i get to spend three or four weekends outside in the trees, 5) the table in our loft will be meaningful, will have a story, and 9) it's going to become a great memory of time spent with gord.
...which brings me to a recent realization. buying stuff often robs us of the chance to connect with people. i could go into ikea for half an hour, look at hundreds of tables, pick one, buy it and leave, all without interacting with anyone (especially now that they have those infuriating self-check-out machines). but when you choose to make something yourself, especially when you need to ask someone to help you learn how, you turn the acquisition of stuff into a social opportunity, one that builds community.
fostering community is so important - we need to be accountable to people other than ourselves.
i'm going to make a harvest table for our new loft!
i'm very lucky to have an uncle-in-law who lives on a commune in orillia, is an amazing teacher and mentor, is heaps of fun to hang out with, and is great with woodworking. his community has a couple of barns and a bunch of wood lying about. so we're going to salvage some of it and he's going to teach me how to choose the type of wood, plane it, finish it, attach legs, AND WHAT HAVE YOU!
there are several beautiful things about this: a) i get to learn how to make a frikkin' table, g) i get to spend three or four weekends outside in the trees, 5) the table in our loft will be meaningful, will have a story, and 9) it's going to become a great memory of time spent with gord.
...which brings me to a recent realization. buying stuff often robs us of the chance to connect with people. i could go into ikea for half an hour, look at hundreds of tables, pick one, buy it and leave, all without interacting with anyone (especially now that they have those infuriating self-check-out machines). but when you choose to make something yourself, especially when you need to ask someone to help you learn how, you turn the acquisition of stuff into a social opportunity, one that builds community.
fostering community is so important - we need to be accountable to people other than ourselves.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
things that help
well, i'm 12 days in, and the only things i've bought (outside of necessities) are a bunch of flowers and some biodegradable soap at a health food store in kensington. so far, it hasn't been too too hard, though i find i have to actively engage in certain behaviours to keep from getting the shopping itch.
helpful: hearing about other people who have taken on this challenge. i find i'm reading a lot of blogs by people who have either made it through a year, or are in the midst of trying. and i'm planning to check out this documentary, "no impact man." in the next few days: http://www.noimpactdoc.com/index_m.php ...also, regularly logging in to the OSAP website and looking at my current balance has proven quite sobering. oh, and i opted to learn a new skill this year - irish fiddle! - which gives me something experience-based, rather than material-based, to focus on (don't worry, i'm borrowing the fiddle, i didn't buy one).
NOT helpful: just as i wouldn't move to a small pacific island inhabited entirely by gorgeous australian men whilst in a relationship, i've been trying to avoid most of queen street west, bloor street west, any and all bookstores and stationery stores, warmly lit store windows in general, and the urban outfitters website.
sometime around boxing day (before this challenge began), i developed a serious crush on these boots i saw at get outside. ah, the ones who got away...
helpful: hearing about other people who have taken on this challenge. i find i'm reading a lot of blogs by people who have either made it through a year, or are in the midst of trying. and i'm planning to check out this documentary, "no impact man." in the next few days: http://www.noimpactdoc.com/index_m.php ...also, regularly logging in to the OSAP website and looking at my current balance has proven quite sobering. oh, and i opted to learn a new skill this year - irish fiddle! - which gives me something experience-based, rather than material-based, to focus on (don't worry, i'm borrowing the fiddle, i didn't buy one).
NOT helpful: just as i wouldn't move to a small pacific island inhabited entirely by gorgeous australian men whilst in a relationship, i've been trying to avoid most of queen street west, bloor street west, any and all bookstores and stationery stores, warmly lit store windows in general, and the urban outfitters website.
sometime around boxing day (before this challenge began), i developed a serious crush on these boots i saw at get outside. ah, the ones who got away...
Monday, January 10, 2011
why do we shop?
one reason for embarking on a year of no new stuff is my growing need to resist the crescendo of society's strongest current: crazyhyperspazconsumptionmania.
it's exhausting when ads shout at you from the billboard to the bathroom stall. to be constantly told you're incomplete. and though i love the gentle serenity of christmas morning, december's also a particularly striking reminder of just how crucial buying stuff has come to be, just how much meaning we've allowed it to have in our most intimate relationships.
this would all be very jolly and joyous if constant consuming made us happy. but it doesn't. it doesn't because shopping is predicated on the idea that something is missing, i'm not quite good enough yet. so i go shopping. fine, but now i've created an association in my brain between feeling incomplete and enlisting "things" to help me. how can the experience not be tinted with anxiety? and what if i shop for 19 hours straight and never find anything i really like?
we shop because shopping offers us a possible self. it offers us quick and easy access to who we could be. it tempts us with transformation. it tempts us with a self of the future, one who's better-looking, more organized, cleaner, trendier, healthier, smarter, less bored, more fun.
sometime last year, my cousin-in-law jen and i walked into ikea. we agreed it was one of the greatest, most exhilarating feelings ever experienced by man. after talking a bit longer, we nailed down why: ikea offers you hope that you can get literally your shit together. you could be so organized, you'll have your socks in alphabetical order. ikea sells us a way to organize external clutter, and we presume that the organization of internal clutter will follow.
ads for "stuff" prey on a very deep need to assert an identity. the best part? you can have billions of new identities over a lifetime. any moment could be a new beginning. it's 6:12 on a monday night. i could go right now to the eaton centre and within five minutes, instantly become someone who listens to gangsta rap. someone who has blond highlights. someone who reads science fiction. someone different. someone new. we learn who we are through what we consume.
and shopping can be sweet, because if you're feeling dissatisfied with who you are, it's never too late to start again. and all you have to do is part with a little money. seems like an OK deal.
it's exhausting when ads shout at you from the billboard to the bathroom stall. to be constantly told you're incomplete. and though i love the gentle serenity of christmas morning, december's also a particularly striking reminder of just how crucial buying stuff has come to be, just how much meaning we've allowed it to have in our most intimate relationships.
this would all be very jolly and joyous if constant consuming made us happy. but it doesn't. it doesn't because shopping is predicated on the idea that something is missing, i'm not quite good enough yet. so i go shopping. fine, but now i've created an association in my brain between feeling incomplete and enlisting "things" to help me. how can the experience not be tinted with anxiety? and what if i shop for 19 hours straight and never find anything i really like?
we shop because shopping offers us a possible self. it offers us quick and easy access to who we could be. it tempts us with transformation. it tempts us with a self of the future, one who's better-looking, more organized, cleaner, trendier, healthier, smarter, less bored, more fun.
sometime last year, my cousin-in-law jen and i walked into ikea. we agreed it was one of the greatest, most exhilarating feelings ever experienced by man. after talking a bit longer, we nailed down why: ikea offers you hope that you can get literally your shit together. you could be so organized, you'll have your socks in alphabetical order. ikea sells us a way to organize external clutter, and we presume that the organization of internal clutter will follow.
ads for "stuff" prey on a very deep need to assert an identity. the best part? you can have billions of new identities over a lifetime. any moment could be a new beginning. it's 6:12 on a monday night. i could go right now to the eaton centre and within five minutes, instantly become someone who listens to gangsta rap. someone who has blond highlights. someone who reads science fiction. someone different. someone new. we learn who we are through what we consume.
and shopping can be sweet, because if you're feeling dissatisfied with who you are, it's never too late to start again. and all you have to do is part with a little money. seems like an OK deal.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
the rules
several humans have asked me, BUT WHAT OF FOOD? WILL YOU STARVE? WHAT IF YOU DIE? look, we're all going to die at some point. but 2011's not how i'm gonna go. it's simply not my time. jealous?
to resolutely resolve any other unresolved issues regarding my resolution, i present to you, the rules of my year!
in general, there are two guiding principles:
1) if i can throw it into a garbage bin or blue bin, i can't buy it. the idea is to keep things out of landfills. however, purchasing experiences or intangible things is fine. so, i can buy a song on iTunes, but buying a physical DVD of "yianni, live at the acropolis!" is out.
2) if i absolutely have to buy a physical object (for example, say my winter jacket was ripped off my body in mid-january by an absolutely massive half-human, half-tarantula), i have to acquire it second-hand. so that means either inheriting it from a friend or family member, trading it for something else, getting it off craigslist, or picking it up in a thrift store.
STUFF I CAN BUY NEW
food; drinks; transportation (i.e. TTC tokens); medication and vitamins; pet supplies for scout (food, litter); essential toiletries BUT only after i've completely run out - no buying new shampoo or moisturizer just for the balls of it; organic things that are completely biodegradable (for example, the other day i bought some fleurs for my mum); experiences and services, such as a massage, a movie ticket, a class or workshop, or a trip; underwear and socks, because let's be adult about this.
STUFF I CAN'T BUY NEW
clothes; shoes; bags; books; DVDs; CDs; vinyl records; furniture; appliances; electronics; weird little houseware thingies; outdoor/sporting gear; bike parts/gear; umbrellas; exercise gear such as a yoga mat; home decor; stationery; presents for other people; physical objects.
THINGS I'M STILL UNSURE ABOUT
i'm moving into a loft in march. so as not to burden my lovely manfriend with all the purchases we will need to make, i might come up with a short window where it's OK to buy a few things - only if we really need them for the new place and we're unable to get them second-hand.
when it comes to food, i already try to eat in a sustainable way; i'm vegetarian and i buy local and organic where possible. but again, this is about reducing my consumption of physical, concrete "stuff." eating totally local for a year would be another great experiment to try another year. but on this adventure, it's about growing thoughtful with things.
to resolutely resolve any other unresolved issues regarding my resolution, i present to you, the rules of my year!
in general, there are two guiding principles:
1) if i can throw it into a garbage bin or blue bin, i can't buy it. the idea is to keep things out of landfills. however, purchasing experiences or intangible things is fine. so, i can buy a song on iTunes, but buying a physical DVD of "yianni, live at the acropolis!" is out.
2) if i absolutely have to buy a physical object (for example, say my winter jacket was ripped off my body in mid-january by an absolutely massive half-human, half-tarantula), i have to acquire it second-hand. so that means either inheriting it from a friend or family member, trading it for something else, getting it off craigslist, or picking it up in a thrift store.
STUFF I CAN BUY NEW
food; drinks; transportation (i.e. TTC tokens); medication and vitamins; pet supplies for scout (food, litter); essential toiletries BUT only after i've completely run out - no buying new shampoo or moisturizer just for the balls of it; organic things that are completely biodegradable (for example, the other day i bought some fleurs for my mum); experiences and services, such as a massage, a movie ticket, a class or workshop, or a trip; underwear and socks, because let's be adult about this.
STUFF I CAN'T BUY NEW
clothes; shoes; bags; books; DVDs; CDs; vinyl records; furniture; appliances; electronics; weird little houseware thingies; outdoor/sporting gear; bike parts/gear; umbrellas; exercise gear such as a yoga mat; home decor; stationery; presents for other people; physical objects.
THINGS I'M STILL UNSURE ABOUT
i'm moving into a loft in march. so as not to burden my lovely manfriend with all the purchases we will need to make, i might come up with a short window where it's OK to buy a few things - only if we really need them for the new place and we're unable to get them second-hand.
when it comes to food, i already try to eat in a sustainable way; i'm vegetarian and i buy local and organic where possible. but again, this is about reducing my consumption of physical, concrete "stuff." eating totally local for a year would be another great experiment to try another year. but on this adventure, it's about growing thoughtful with things.
Monday, January 3, 2011
a new year of no new stuff
this story begins in a kitchen, in the cozy chaos of a cottage in huntsville. in this kitchen, friends were busying themselves with breakfast on the first morning of 2011. it was bright and snowy outside, and hopeful inside. it was a new year.
this annual new year's celebration at this particular cottage, with this particular collection of family and friends is so filled with the big things - hilarity, gratitude, ideas, conversations, love, warmth - it becomes easy to stop noticing the sheer number of little objects that accumulate when 20 people get together for a weekend. boots, stray mittens, flashlights, soap, tubes of lip balm, iphones, ipods, books, journals, socks, skates, hockey pucks, cameras. these things occupy every surface, change hands, are borrowed, returned, topple off tables, are lost, are found. these objects dictate when the cottage is clean, and when it's a mess. when we've arrived, and when it's time to go. these objects decide what we do - and more important, don't do - with our days. these objects are far more in control of us than they should be.
none of this was really forefront in my thoughts until lex suddenly told me that in 2011, she would embark on a year of buying nothing new. she described the reasons why - to reduce needless consumption. to be more environmentally conscious. to be less wasteful. to become mindful of the difference between needs and wants. to challenge herself to fulfill her needs more creatively than simply going out and buying more stuff from a store.
lex and i are very like-minded when it comes to living lightly on the earth, and immediately her words felt stirring. i decided right there, sipping piping hot espresso in the kitchen, to join her on the journey. i decided this before i'd fully considered it rationally. it was an idea that suddenly made so much intuitive sense, i knew the logistical details would fall into place once i got onboard.
...so.
here's to a new year of no new stuff!
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