Aftermath
The first week of my No Buy had its ups and downs.
Last Sunday, after I had posted my newsletter, I sat with a bunch of feelings. I felt frustrated and angry at myself for having bought too much stuff, and putting that out there on Substack made me feel vulnerable and perhaps even ashamed. My husband came into the living room after he had read my newsletter in our study, and told me that my writing had seemed “a little sad”. He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t been writing from a happy place and I wasn’t feeling all that hopeful about my No Buy.
Rather than wallow in self-pity, I figured it would be best to do something about the way I was feeling and about the state of my closet. I began to arrange my chaotic wardrobe, and before I knew it, I was tackling the seasonal switch that I had said in my newsletter I wasn’t quite ready for. I sent a video message from the midst of my closet clean-up to a group chat and asked for help. My sister and my friend Noora gave me fresh ideas on how to rearrange my closet space. We talked about the danger of putting several pieces on a single hanger (guilty as charged), and how important it is to see one’s clothes.
I reassessed the things I had brought home from my vintage shop’s storage and decided to take some of them back. I tried on several pairs of trousers that I hadn’t been wearing in a long time and decided to let go of the ones that didn’t fit properly. I went through a big pile of projects, picked out the things I knew I would never actually work on and bagged them, as well as some oversized men’s shirts and a couple of other things I had found at the back of my closet. I put all the bags in the hallway to take to textile recycling. I felt better.
On Monday morning I accidentally opened Vinted on my phone, as I hadn’t yet moved the app away from my phone’s home screen. I’ve spent more time scrolling Vinted in the past months than I’d like to admit, and I should have put the app on hiatus immediately, but I simply forgot. The first item that the algorithm showed me was a vintage Kuortane choir costume’s dress1 for eight euros. I hit “buy” before I could even process what I was doing. I sent a confessional note to the group chat, telling my peeps what I had done. I felt deep unease, and it took me a while before the jitters released the hold they had on my body. (Like Rachel / Hey Mrs. Solomon on Style had said in her kind comment to my newsletter last week, this is hard stuff.)
I decided to not dwell on it. What’s done is done. The best thing is to keep the motor running, so I looked at my list of purchased things from last year and went through the items one by one. I like to scrutinize my purchases and tease out my initial intentions and the feelings that come after. It makes me feel like I have some control over my shopping. I color-labeled the successes (there were many) and wrote notes on the items that I hadn’t gotten much wear out of yet. I then went through the items on this year’s list and wrote down initial feelings on those, too. Writing down my thoughts made me feel organized, like I was climbing back up toward the light, so to speak.
My husband helped me take the bags full of clothing rejects out of our home. Reclaimed space felt good. Later that afternoon I went through another closet and bagged more unfinished projects to recycle. (Note to self: stop hoarding projects!)
After the clean-up, my closet looked better. It’s still pretty packed, but the clothes are, for the most part, really good. Like Lin , I always feel better about what I already have when I’ve ironed my clothes. I decided to do some ironing on Tuesday.
I also thought that I could use some play-dress-up time. I always say that I have a lot of clothes I never wear, and at least some of that comes from not having spent the time to style the more challenging pieces. I don’t wear the things I don’t know how to wear. It’s time to flex my styling muscles, so I penciled that on my to-do-list as well.
Tuesday came and I ironed some of my cotton and linen shirts. One of them was an amazing sleepwear blouse from the early 1900s that I bought last year but have never worn. It took forever to iron, with all of its frills and lace. After I was done, I looked at it and decided that the style was just too romantic for me. As lovely as the blouse is, I have no use for it and it’s going.
The Kuortane choir costume’s dress arrived in the mail on Wednesday. It’s older than I thought (the seller had said it was from the 1950s, but I think it might be even older), it has the original pocket, but it’s missing the second silver clasp from the bodice. I found a matching clasp online for 90 euros, but right now I don’t want to spend that kind of money. I let down the hem of the dress, repaired a rip in the skirt, and I will re-hem it soon. I don’t regret buying the dress, as impulse-driven and irrational as its purchase might have been.
On Thursday I didn’t think about clothes.
On Friday I saw an amazing editorial on Garden Antwerp’s Instagram, and then I drooled over their selection of Elena Dawson SS/2026.
On Saturday I thought about clothes, but mostly just the ones I was wearing. I wore one of my men’s antique shirts with a long white underskirt and looked like I had escaped from a cult (in a good way). I took extra time in the morning to put on my Memery boots, which always take forever to lace up. It reminded me that perhaps getting dressed should take some time. Maybe we value quick, effortless and easy dressing too much.
In the late afternoon I picked up my black sandals at the post office – the ones I had ordered the week before. They are perfect and the hunt is over.
All in all, things are looking up this week.
Finland has many official regional folk costumes (or national costumes), as well as choir costumes. Whereas the official national costumes are rooted in historical research of the clothing worn in certain areas in Finland, the choir costumes were developed in the late 1920s and early 1930s without actual historical accuracy, and as the name suggests, they were designed as costumes to be worn by choirs. The choir costumes are less formal and more affordable than national costumes.
The complete Kuortane choir costume comes with a dress, a blouse, a separate pocket, a brooch, and a hairpiece.
Well, what strikes me the most is the care and tenderness you’re giving these clothes and not to be corny but what would happen if you gave yourself the same care and tenderness? You love clothes and it’s your business. It’s hard not to get excited about them. Women are so hard on ourselves about things we love. Maybe some of the work is in the reframing. Those feelings you don’t like of that throbbing urgency, maybe those calm a bit when you are gentle with yourself. I think you are doing so well and leading a beautiful, thoughtful life — there is so much evidence here of this and of the people who love you.
The Kuortane dress is so beautiful! Maybe one way to think about it is that since this is resale, you are indulging in an experience. Coveting, purchasing, repairing and hopefully wearing the dress are an experience. And you allow yourself X experiences a year. You are so thoughtful and mindful in your approach to clothes, it seems like ocasional “entertainment” might just feed your sartorial soul.
In any case thank you for sharing your thought process. Always a treat to read your newslettter.