More than just a transaction
Confessions from an (almost) no-buy half year
“So how’s the no-buy year going?”
A colleague asked me this loaded question over dinner on a work trip to Italy in May. His tone was smug, as though he already knew about my moment of weakness in Milan two days earlier. Accountability was the blessing and the curse of announcing my resolution on social media. If only I was good at lying.
I took a gulp of Nebbiolo and confessed: I made the mistake of “window shopping” for “inspiration” at 10 Corso Como, an upscale concept store in the Brera district. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was pulling on an asymmetrical Phoebe Philo shirtdress in the low-lit dressing room. The salesman, a spiky haired Italian in a fishnet sweater, encouraged me with a wave of his hand, “Buy, buy! You will not regret.”
Yet, as I finished my story, I did feel a twist of regret.
“That’s too bad,” said my colleague, shaking his head. “I was rooting for you.”
I couldn’t explain that what had happened in the shop was more than just a transaction. As a working mother, I am so seldom alone, free to roam the streets of a foreign city, to browse without a time constraint. The joy of leisure was more intoxicating than the free Aperol spritz I enjoyed later that evening in the hotel garden. “Slow shopping” was fundamental to the ethos of 10 Corso Como, and I was more than happy to immerse in the strange beauty of the avant garde wares.
In the dressing room, I was overcome with the feeling a cool, coveted high fashion brand can bestow on a mere mortal. I looked from my reflection to the price tag and back, willing myself to return the garment to its hanger and walk away, while daring myself to take the dress - and the feeling - back home.
“So how’s the no-buy year going?”
When I got the dreaded question from a friend later in the trip, her reaction was more forgiving.
“Don’t feel bad! Making an exception for travel is perfectly acceptable, especially in Italy!”
I sighed, grateful for her willingness to bend the rules.
What’s funny to me is that I chose to splurge on such an understated piece. Another shirtdress? Really, Mattai?! A predictable choice, but by far the most luxurious in my collection. The fabric was finely woven, charcoal gray wool with a sumptuous drape and supple sheen. Elegant armor for my looming late forties, oversized enough to hide the permutations of perimenopause already underway. Back at home, I felt a cartoonish cloud of guilt overhead as I hung the dress in my closet.
The fact that I have only bought one item of clothing in 2026 is still a win. In past years, I’d fallen into a dangerous cycle of panic-shopping before every trip and event, allowing myself to succumb to that “nothing-I-own-is-right” feeling. This year, I’ve gotten better at managing my insecurities and shopping my own wardrobe. I’ve actually had fun styling older pieces I haven’t worn in ages. I’ve cut out impulse buying on Instagram, and avoided the trap of online sales.
Despite my transgression in Milan, I’m proud of my progress. The goals of my no-buy year are to become more aware of my patterns of behavior, reduce mindless accumulation, and loosen consumerism’s hold on my consciousness. Day by day, I feel these lessons taking root. These are shifts I hope to make, not for just one year, but for the rest of my life. One shirtdress doesn’t mean I’m giving up.
The next time someone asks me how the no-buy year is going, I’m not going to make a red-faced confession. I will look past my one mistake, and share the larger truth: it’s going great.
Thank you for reading!