Photo-Illustration: by The Cut; Photos: Getty Images
It seems almost beside the point to tell people to shop less right now. For the most part, buying stuff isn’t what makes us broke; it’s the cost of health care, education, rent, child care — things we don’t have much control over, at least individually. But still, could we all use fewer things and more money? Probably. Enter No New Things, a new book by Ashlee Piper, a sustainability consultant who cut back on her shopping drastically over a decade ago. As she points out, “Consumer spending probably isn’t the biggest drain on your finances, but it’s the one that you can do the most about.”
When Piper first quit shopping, “it was almost like a detox,” she says. At the time, she was overwhelmed at her job, lonely in a new city, and had developed shopping habits that made her feel better — temporarily. When she realized she was over $20,000 in debt and drowning in crap she never used, she decided to stop buying new things for a month. That month turned into two years, which turned into an online community and now a book that offers day-by-day guidance for people who want to try the “No New Things” philosophy for themselves. Here, she talks about how she deals with the urge to shop — “I still get it; I’m not immune!” — and why even just a 30-day shopping break can make a difference.
What were your shopping habits like before you decided to stop?
It was 2013, and I had recently gotten a new job. I was making more money than I’d ever made before, a little over $100,000, but the job required me to move to Chicago in the dead of winter, and I didn’t know anybody here. Then the job turned out to be really stressful and unfulfilling. All these factors, including having disposable income for the first time in my life, led me to entertain and comfort myself through shopping. I’d never had that kind of relationship to consumerism before, probably because I’d never made that much money. But I went off the rails a bit. In a short period of time, I amassed about $22,000 of consumer debt, which I was shocked by. Some of it was from my move, but most of it was just me buying stuff. It got to the point where I didn’t even want to look at bank statements or credit-card bills. I really knew it was a problem when I was buying things that didn’t even make sense. It wasn’t just stuff that I liked. It was clothes I knew wouldn’t fit me — I was going to T.J.Maxx and buying pants in a size two or four when I was, at the time, solidly a size ten or a 12.
Was there a moment when you were like, All right, that’s it. I have to stop?
I knew I wanted to leave the job and the career that I had. But I’d gotten myself into a lifestyle creep where I couldn’t leave that job without getting my shit together financially. And eventually, my desire to leave that job became stronger and more urgent than some of my default habits of buying stuff. Also, as I was slowly incorporating more sustainable habits into my life, I was selling things and getting rid of stuff I no longer needed, and I realized how much there was. I had all these clothes that still had tags on them because I couldn’t even fit into them. It was like, Who am I? What am I expecting? I realized the extent to which I was shopping as a way to self-soothe, and it wasn’t aligned with my values at all.
What were some of the shopping rules you made for yourself at first?
I thought I’d do it only for a month, which seemed doable. But then I found the benefits to be so positive and unexpected that I ended up doing it for about two years. A big thing that kept me going was that I was saving money, and I could see that right away.
In terms of rules, I was building the bike as I rode it. I always allowed myself to get stuff I needed, but I had to get it secondhand, and in 2013 that was harder than it is today. There was no Poshmark, really, or Facebook Marketplace. There was Craigslist and eBay — a few things like that. Now it’s much easier. And I always allowed myself to pay for food, transportation, travel, e-books, visiting family, eating out. It was just new physical stuff that I didn’t allow myself to buy. I think keeping the guidelines very straightforward helped me stick to them — and also kept the challenge from feeling punitive.
When did it get hard for you, and how quickly did you develop coping skills?
The first week was especially difficult, for sure. Something that really helped was tracking whenever I wanted to buy something. I come from a social-work background, so I was interested in why this behavior had such a hold on me. Why am I turning to this activity to calm stress? When I started keeping a record, I got really good data on myself. Like, okay, when I’m hungry, when I need to drink water, when I feel ugly, whatever it might be, these are time periods when I am more susceptible to browsing Ross. That helped me to see that there were other things that I was trying to address through shopping.
Once I saw patterns emerge, it became a lot easier and even fun. It felt exciting to master some of these impulses. It also made me feel like I took some power back. Even if you’re not in dire financial straits or you don’t have a clinical shopping problem, I think a lot of people are uncomfortable with their relationship to consumerism. You probably feel like you’ve ceded some power to a force that is not benefiting your life. And it’s energizing to take that power back.
I think a lot of people genuinely want to shop less. But sometimes, especially when you’re online all day, getting bombarded with a zillion decisions and ads, it takes a lot of willpower to stop yourself. What do you do when that willpower just isn’t there?
I created a list of things to do instead. If you look at scientific research on urges and cravings, most of the time these urges last two to seven minutes. If you can ride out that time period by creating more friction — basically, slowing yourself down — and finding alternative activities that will still be satisfying for you and take you out of that swirl for a moment, that can get you through it in a really positive way. Over time, it can also rewire some of those neural pathways so that you can meet your needs without shopping.
People think of dopamine as being the pleasure hormone. But it’s actually released in anticipation of getting the thing you want. It makes us desire things, and shopping stokes it intensely. It’s why people feel such heightened euphoria when they’re in the browsing and almost-buying process and then there’s a letdown after we’ve bought the item: You forget about it, or it loses the desirability it had before you owned it. The thrill is gone. Knowing what’s happening in your body when you’re shopping and then finding activities that are non–shopping-related that give you a similar thrill and comfort and joy — what is that for you? For me, it’s as simple as finding my cat. That’s fun for me. I’ll go find him and chat with him and give him a hug.
One guy told me that every time he wants to buy something, he does 25 push-ups — he says it takes him out of his head and back into his body. And, hey, I’m not going to do that, but I’m sure he’s looking ripped and feeling good about himself. Doing something physical, like putting on a song or getting yourself a snack or going to get a coffee, that’s all good. Text a friend or call someone. A lot of people have told me that they find their partner and have sex or get out the vibrator — which you can’t do at work, obviously, but if you’re at home, get after it. Whatever works.
These are skills that you build over time. The more you realize that those impulses are perfunctory and you can resist them, that ability gets stronger and stronger. Then stopping yourself feels less like an exercise of willpower and more like a reflex. It creates momentum, and you’re conditioning yourself to get better at it every time. That makes people feel good about themselves and want to keep going.
What are some other benefits besides financial?
How much time I got back. I realized I’d been frittering away hours browsing, shopping, taking inventory of my stuff. When I stopped, I was shocked about how much free time I had. And I used that extra time to sell things to make more money. The American Time Use Survey, which the Department of Labor typically publishes every few years, has reported that Americans spend an average of seven hours a week — or about an hour a day — on shopping. That’s each of us individually. That’s a lot of time that we’re combing through stuff for more stuff. A lot of people don’t make that connection; they think that buying stuff will save them time. I certainly did. But it doesn’t.
Also, it’s encouraging to find community in the sharing economy. I’m not adding to cart for every problem I have. And there’s comfort in knowing that if you reach out to neighbors or people on Facebook Marketplace looking to buy or sell something, you’re supporting other people and they’re supporting you. We know that building community is a lost art and we’re all lonely. But when you start asking for help, or offering things to others, it creates connection.
When is it helpful to allow yourself to look at things you want, and write them down or make lists, versus not letting yourself look at all?
I think the wanting is going to happen regardless. There’s not a ton you can do about that. For me, tracking the stuff I wanted, and making lists of it, also showed me how quickly my urges can change. I treat this list like a parking lot of all the things that I want. And I tell myself, I can buy all these things once I’m done with my No New Things challenge. But then, once that month is over and I can buy it, I look at the list and I’m like, What was I thinking? Or, in some rare cases, it is something I actually want and will use, in which case I buy it and enjoy it. But it gives me breathing room.
When you reached the end of your first month of not buying new things, what made you decide to keep going?
Oh, I was saving money. I had a spending-to-soothe problem, so the fiscal benefits were the most immediate because I just wasn’t buying shit anymore. And that made me feel good about getting closer to my goals of paying off my debt and being able to leave my job. Over the next two years, I managed to pay off my credit-card debt and save around $36,000. I was making a decent salary as a political strategist, but I was still living in an expensive city with rent and all the trappings that come along with that. I was able to put more money into retirement. And I felt really peaceful, whereas before I felt really panicked. I was never at the risk of going into bankruptcy or having collectors come to my house, but I was uncomfortable with the situation I’d gotten myself into, and I felt really good knowing I was moving forward on something that was going to help me.
Thirty days can be a lot, but in the years that I’ve done No New Things as an online challenge, it seems like an amount of time that people can stick with. It’s doable. The research on habit-building shows that it can take anywhere from two weeks to a year to build a new habit, so I can’t say that one month is a magic number. But it’s long enough to make a difference.
What made you decide to officially stop your No New Things streak, and what was the first new thing that you bought?
It was actually a gown. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was going to a gala with a friend and I wanted to look great. I saw this gown in a store window, and I was like, That’s it. So that was what I bought. I still have it. But it wasn’t like I suddenly went back to impulse-buying — the habits I built over that two-year period are strong. I still buy probably 98 percent of my stuff secondhand. And if I ever find myself slipping, which I certainly do, then I’ll do a No New Things for a few weeks or a month to recalibrate.
I have noticed that it’s much harder to resist shopping now than it was when I first started this over ten years ago. For example, when I’m lying in bed at night, scrolling through social media and feeling very old and ugly and unaccomplished when I look at influencers, I’m like, Oh, I should buy those supplements, or Maybe I should try that skin-care routine. So I don’t have any payment information on my phone. I make sure I have to get my ass up if I want to buy anything. There has to be friction. And I try to do only non-phone things before bed; I know it’s a vulnerable moment for me, and I’m not alone in that.
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