A summer of avoidance
Undoubtedly, the trollbots who read this blog have noticed a lack of posts about my consumption. Why? A breather of sorts. Lucky grad student that I am, I find myself employed in a summer job that pays almost as much in three months as an entire year of graduate stipendship. The financial pressure of daily measuring where my money goes no longer seems to crush onto my lungs every day, however, I’ve found in the last two months that the habits of the last year are well ingrained.
A new job, after two years outside of corporate America, requires new clothes. Of course I want to spend my days exploring my wanna-be just like the Uniform Project creativity, or slavishly copying the likkle girl who wurves pwetty things, but reality dictates that I just fantasise about such lovely money-requiring amusements (more below). Both examples draw heavily on an extensive amount of time and effort collecting unique pieces, and an even more extensive amount of creative flair taking unique and not-unique and refashioning them into something new. I’m not certain whether they are just the fore-front of a trend, or recreating snippets of trends left and right. Afterall, the amazing power of marketing to make and remake reality leaves one wondering, upon sighting of something new and refreshing, how long until new shows up in a slightly different shade, or a hint, winking and nodding to something unattainable, as it stares out at you from a big box retailer shelf.
I digress. I find myself, in my attempted reintroductions to the shopping world, absolutely unwilling to pay the prices attached to the clothes in my hands. A $10 shirt at H&M still feels like a pile of gold, especially when I finger the cloth and think of the hands that sewed it for pennies, this throw-away bit of clothing that cannot help but last a season or two. Even worse, my desire for a comfortable pair of ballet flats, so I can skirt wear with ease intead of tottering about, toes squished into smooshed up sausages of misery, weekly collides full force with the reality that this $20 or $30 will have soles worn through by December. But the additional $50 or $60 (on top of that earlier bit of money) required to step up in quality to a shoe made to last a bit longer still appears an inscaleable mountain in the face of the looming storm that the return to graduate student life entails.
A bit grump-inducing, yes?
To deal with this funk, I carefully plot and plan trips to consignment shops unreachable on foot, and imagine the treasures awaiting within. Perhaps next week my powers of teleportation will kick in.