I'm Not Buying That Anymore

Pull up a chair.

I almost bought something the other day for one reason.

It was on sale.

Not because I needed it. Not because I’d been planning to buy it. Not because it solved a problem I actually have.

It was simply on sale, and apparently that is still enough to override common sense.

20% off can be very persuasive.



But for once, I stopped.

And it got me thinking about all the things I’ve finally learned not to buy.

Not because I’ve suddenly become disciplined or turned into one of those women with three neutral sweaters and one perfect handbag.

Although honestly, I’d like to be one of those women.

Anyone who knows me knows I love a bag.

I think it’s more about finally knowing who I am.



And who I am is someone who does not dry clean.

Nope.

Too much work. Too much expense. Too many steps.

Buy the thing. Wear the thing. Remember it needs to go to the dry cleaner. Take it there. Pay for it. Remember to go back and pick it up.

That is not clothing.

That is a part-time job.

If something says “dry clean only,” back on the rack it goes.



Hand washing is even more ridiculous.

Are you kidding me?

If the tag says “hand wash only,” what I hear is, “Enjoy wearing this exactly once.”

At this stage of my life, my clothes need to survive the washing machine, the dryer, and occasionally being forgotten in one of them overnight.

I’m not filling the sink, gently swirling a blouse around, rolling it in a towel, reshaping it, and laying it flat to dry like I’m restoring some historic textile.

I have other things to do.



I’ve also stopped buying shoes just because they’re cute.

Or at least I’m much better about it now.

Anyone else remember Payless?

I used to walk through those aisles, find the cutest pair of shoes for $19.99, and think I had discovered fashion gold.

They looked adorable in the box.

They looked adorable in the mirror.

At least, from what I could see in that tiny little mirror attached to the bench.

And then, approximately 12 minutes after leaving the house, they would begin removing the skin from my feet.

Cute apparently meant blisters.

Terrible, painful blisters.

I learned my lesson.

It only took a couple of decades, but who’s counting?

Now I need shoes that can make it through an actual day. A real day. One that involves walking, standing, parking lots, stairs, and carrying my own bag.

I no longer have any interest in shoes that require backup shoes.

That feels like growth.



I’m also pretty much done buying things that create more work.

Clothes that require special undergarments.

Kitchen gadgets with nineteen pieces that cannot go in the dishwasher.

Beauty products with six steps, three tools, and a tutorial.

If something needs special detergent, its own storage system, or a YouTube video, I’m out.

For years, I think I bought things for the woman I thought I might become.

She wore structured blazers.

She went to more events.

She had somewhere to go in heels.

She hosted casual dinners with linen napkins and a centerpiece she somehow threw together.

She completed elaborate evening skincare routines without getting tired halfway through.

She probably hand washed things.

Honestly, I don’t know her.



My real life looks very different.

My real life needs washable clothes, comfortable shoes, skincare I’ll actually use, and a bag big enough to hold my phone, wallet, glasses, sunglasses, lip balm, tissues, and several other things I apparently cannot leave the house without.



Which brings me to bags.

Have I stopped buying bags?

Let’s not get carried away.

This is personal growth, not a personality transplant.

I love a crossbody, a tote, a little zip pouch, and a travel bag. I love compartments. I love pockets. I love a bag inside a bag.

I’m a lot more particular now, though.

I no longer want a bag that looks beautiful but is miserable to carry.

I don’t want one so tiny I have to choose between my glasses and my wallet.

I don’t want one so large that everything I own disappears into a bottomless pit and can only be found by dumping the whole thing onto a table.

And I definitely do not want a bag with an annoying closure.

Life is too short for a purse that fights back.

So yes, I may still buy bags.

But now I’m buying bags for the life I actually live.

That’s the difference.



And maybe that’s really what all of this comes down to.

I think I’ve finally stopped shopping for the imaginary version of my life and started shopping for the Tuesday afternoon version.

The woman I actually am.

The one who values comfort, does not want another errand, and knows that something can be beautiful, popular, deeply discounted, and still not be for her.

Maybe that’s one of the better things about getting older.

We get a little harder to convince.

We know what we’ll wear and what we’ll actually use.

We know what looks lovely in someone else’s life but would annoy us in our own.

We stop buying quite so much for the life we might live and start buying for the one we actually do.

Most of the time.

Put the right bag in front of me and apparently all bets are off.

But I’m getting better.



Now, before I buy something, I’m trying to ask myself one question:

Do I want this for the life I actually live?

Or for a life that only exists in my head?

That question has saved me money, closet space, blisters, and several dry-clean-only things I was never going to deal with anyway.



What have you finally stopped buying?

And what is the one thing you’ll probably never stop buying?



The coffee will be waiting.

See you next Sunday.

Kari xo

I’ll save you a seat 💙



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Coffee Talk is one corner of The Midlife Edit.

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