Today marks roughly 6 weeks since I discovered Minimalism and I already feel better. Not because I have gotten rid of everything just yet but because I realised there is suddenly a choice. A choice whereby I no longer have to be overwhelmed by all the stuff in the house, by the feeling that one of those days the stuff will actually consume me and my friends will have to come and dig out my body from underneath all the skirts and the tops and the scarfs and the shoes and the miscellaneous.It has also given me the feeling of content… for a while now I have been searching and asking for contentment.
My immediate family has for as long as I can remember had this attitude of not having enough… all whilst being a comfortable middle class family. My parents always worried about not creating a safety net for their children, not having enough for a rainy day and generally just not having enough.
Growing up, I don’t remember having much choice in the clothing I wore. It was often bought for me by my mum and my sister, accompanied by an annoying habit of me digging through my sister’s closet whenever I had a chance and asking for hand-me-downs.
I think that probably was the reason why I went slightly cray-cray on clothes when I eventually went university and started living away from my family.
I was never the cool kid at school so this was my chance! These clothes would make it all the better, cooler and help me create the right persona. Or so I thought.. I would spend all my allowance on a new pair of jeans or a dress and then would go over to my friend’s house for dinner most nights as she was conveniently still living with her parents.
When I started full time work my best friend and I discovered this thing called a credit card. 3 months interest free?! Don’t mind if I do!
And so the vicious cycle began… living beyond my means, buying clothes I could not afford, expensive bars, restaurants and of course all of required appropriate clothing. And by “appropriate” I mean new.
When I eventually moved to London the whole cycle basically repeated itself and being “generally single” for most of my 20s I didn’t hold back on nights out and weekend trips abroad. My friends were older and made more money than me and I, in my blissful ignorance, pretended to be just like them… except everything I spent was mostly on credit.
There was a time when I bought (on credit) a pair of Jimmy Choos, whilst on a weekend away, because I had forgotten my Louboutins (also bought on credit). All of this was because my friend and I had a dinner reservation at The Place to be seen. Needless to say the dinner was also charged to my credit card.
There was also a time when I, in my aforementioned credit louboutins, click-clacked my way into the £100 per head restaurant for a dinner (“luurrrrve the food there daaaaahlin) and had to spent the rest of the week eating the cheapest frozen pizza. But it’s all worth it right? Right…?
I couldn’t really tell you what motivation was at the time – I’m sure part of it was because I was enjoying the food and the atmosphere and part of it was the desperate desire to “belong” to that world. And of course I would be lying if I said that there wasn’t a part of me that was secretly hoping to find a well-to-do gentleman who would be only a few years older than me, with a six figure salary (obvs) to match his six pack abs and a wonderfully generous heart….
to be continued…