The Commitment

I sit with my daughter on a wide rock ledge in Maine, overlooking what is undoubtedly our favorite spot in the universe, the beaches of Kennebunk. We have chosen a long section where there are rocks instead of sand because we like the sound the waves make as they fall back into the ocean here. The sun is setting way too quickly. We are glad that we brought our hoodies. Only a few people still remain along this stretch – a couple walking, holding hands, and five or six teens, laughing and joking as they lean against their car and the rock ledge, stretching out the day. It is our annual “girl’s weekend” in Maine and we are of the belief that summer would not be summer without it.

We’ve been chatting about a number of things but during a lull in our conversation, I venture that I’ve been thinking about a challenge that I’d like to take on. I say that I want to commit to a year of not buying any new clothes or shoes. “Why?” she wants to know. This is huge. One of our favorite activities together is shopping. “Well,” I explain, “it’s just something that’s been nagging at me for awhile. I have so much. I have things I’ve never worn, and I can go for a few weeks without wearing the same item twice. I’d like to just wear some things out for a change.” She is more interested than aghast and I’m grateful because I don’t like having to defend myself. We’ve had conversations before about the craziness of accumulating – we’ve already vowed not to buy more tchotchkes for our apartments. We’ve also agreed to cut way back on our spending at Christmas for each other, preferring to have experiences together instead. She wonders when I will start, and I tell her, “very soon, imminently.” I just need to think a little more about the rules I will self-impose. I probably won’t include sneakers. Since I have very bad feet (thanks to mom and grandma) and I live in sneakers, I know I will likely need to replace my current pair before a year passes.

The next morning, over breakfast, she tells me that she’s been thinking about my challenge and would like to join me. Everything I said last night makes perfect sense to her. I am thrilled. For the rest of our Maine time, we repeatedly return to this discussion, fleshing out the details of our commitment. We add bags to the “no-buy” list. This will be easy for me – I am loyal to one bag at a time. I hate to change them, so I never match and I don’t care. But she loves bags as much as she loves shoes. She adds “product” because she’s constantly trying out new lotions and potions. She clarifies that she won’t buy new until she uses up the old. I can live with that. That’s pretty much of a non-issue for me, too.

The more we talk about our plan, the more excited we are. We discuss what might be hard for us, and formulate strategies to ward off temptation. We agree to cancel catalogs and unsubscribe to store solicitations by email. We will call each other if we feel at risk of cheating. We decide now is the time to begin and we plan to break our fast at this time next year in Maine. We laugh together because we realize that after a year of a self-imposed shopping boycott, either we’ll want to buy everything, or we’ll realize we need nothing! I’m banking on the latter.