A No-Buying Holiday Teaches More Than Saving Money

The first time I tried No New Things was last December after reading Ashlee Piper’s book by the same name. Piper promises a simple 30-day guide to save money, be kind to the planet and protect your sanity. My first try did meet one of these goals. I saved more money than I expected. But, because I gave myself permission to buy holiday gifts, I was still shopping and didn’t feel the real impact of a commitment to no buying.

Round 2, which I completed at the end of last month, taught me more about myself than I ever imagined. I had no gifts to buy, so that excuse was gone. Grocery shopping is allowed, but food shopping is torture for me unless I’m strolling produce at an outdoor market and picking up cheese and sourdough from a local vendor.

If I had started a jar and added 10 bucks every time I picked up my phone to “shop” last month, I’d be planning a nice vacation. I had no clue the habit is so automatic or how much time I spend scroll shopping. Even more embarrassing, I tend to scroll for the same things I already own too much of: clothes, shoes, books, kitchen gadgets, handbags, home décor, office supplies, makeup and skin care. Here’s one thing I know for sure. There is no under-eye cream that will erase those dark circles like a good night’s sleep.

Closet Creativity

I am the first to admit I buy fast fashion because a new outfit makes me feel good or because I want something fresh for a party or concert. But what if the first and best place to look is in our own closets, drawers and shelves? We’re controlled by what Piper describes as conditioned consumerism, the steady pressure to believe newness will rescue us from boredom or stress. It doesn’t, and once we recognize this, consumerism has less control over our spending.

We forget what we own when we can’t see it. Things get buried, stored for efficiency instead of visibility, or tucked too high to reach. Once they disappear, they drop out of mind, too. A classic shirt at the back of the closet is a missed chance. Shoes in boxes, tangled jewelry, and out-of-season clothes hidden away might as well not exist.

Start with a small rediscovery. Pull hidden items forward and try new combinations from what you already own. Pair dressy shoes with basics, add a neglected scarf or necklace or layer differently. Hem, mend, polish or steam. “New” doesn’t always mean newly bought; sometimes it simply means newly noticed or newly appreciated.

Overbuying clothes has a huge environmental cost. The Environmental Protection Agency estimated textiles produced 17 million tons of municipal waste in 2018, with 11.3 million tons sent to landfills. The U.S. Government Accountability Office also found textile waste rose more than 50 percent from 2000 to 2018, driven partly by fast fashion and weak systems for collecting, reusing and recycling. It’s hard to imagine how much higher those numbers are now.

Before You Reorder, Take Stock

The same idea applies at work. Office supplies multiply in half-hidden places: pens in cups, notepads in drawers, chargers in tangled bins. Because they’re scattered, it often feels easier to reorder than to look. The issue usually isn’t scarcity but invisibility. A quick reset helps: group similar items, test what still works, keep the best within easy reach, and repurpose or give away what you don’t use.

Kitchens invite duplicate buying too because they’re often organized for storage, not use. Tools get stacked, tucked away, and spread across drawers. Specialty gadgets promise a better routine, so a new purchase can seem reasonable even when a similar tool is already at home.

When my blender died in May, I was tempted to replace it. I didn’t, and I learned something: that chalky protein powder on the high shelf is never becoming a smoothie in my kitchen, no matter how strong the blender. In a pinch, my food processor works just fine. Cha-ching.

Every purchase has consequences beyond your home. Shopping your own space first won’t solve the planet’s environmental problems, but it’s a practical place to start. It can also make daily life calmer, cheaper, and less crowded.

An Unexpected Consequence

Not shopping taught me something else too: sometimes I stop in stores because I need a restroom. One day in May, I used a store’s restroom and felt the usual urge to buy a small item in return – a card or cute top or swimsuit coverup. But new habits are taking hold. I checked my phone for something I need. Tennis balls for the dogs. I grabbed a six-pack and headed to the register.

“With your reward points, your total is… actually, you owe nothing,” the clerk said, smiling as she bagged my dog balls. It felt like a feather in the cap of an experiment I plan to repeat twice a year. The payoff is lower credit card bills, less clutter, and a cleaner conscience. Win, win, win.

Try it, if only to say you did. Thirty days goes quickly. You may find, as I did, that shopping and spending take time, create waste, and distract from enjoying what you already own.         

Share Your Thoughts:

Have you tried not shopping except for essentials for a month? How did it work out for you? How much did you save?