I (kind of sort of) didn’t shop for 75 days and found my fashion Feng-Shui
Chapter 1: The Plan
2025 is almost over and it’s nearly that time again, January: The icy and quiet beginning of the year, when our feeds are filled with posts of New Year’s resolutions, and warnings to make the year count so you don’t find yourself bathing in regret.
Terms like ‘Dry January’, ‘Winter Arc’ and ‘75 Hard Challenge’ come to mind when I recall the posts I scrolled past quickly, determined to avoid these barbaric challenges that I knew in my heart were not for me. I don’t see a point in making the winter months tougher, that is I didn’t, until I stumbled across a challenge that I found much more palatable.
It was your typical quiet winter night – I was scrolling in the 5 pm darkness with my eyes glazed over – when I saw a post that sparked my attention. It read in large letters “75 Hard Style Challenge”and was a 75-day challenge that required discipline, motivation, yet zero daily workouts. Instead, it involved shopping your closet, documenting your outfits, and most importantly, not purchasing any clothing for 75 days.
I remember reading the description and thinking to myself, “If I can do this, I can do anything.”
Insatiable consumption is what keeps this economy going, and influencer marketing only fans the flames of our desire. I was living proof: I couldn’t remember the last time I had gone over two months without purchasing clothing, and I felt powerless against temptations like targeted ads and alluring vintage storefronts.
I had just ordered a chic maroon off the shoulder top from Massimo Dutti (Instagram ad), and a no-shopping challenge felt like the perfect antidote to my impulsive (yet worthwhile) purchase. At this point it was early January, so 75 days would take me to mid-March. I rolled up my sleeves, marked the end date in my calendar, and set about completing the challenge with gusto.
At first no shopping was nothing but fun. In addition to not shopping, the challenge also involved tracking your outfits, so it became a daily habit of mine to document my OOTDs. I found myself more motivated to put together outfits despite the sub-zero temperatures, and tracking each day as I crept closer to my goal was a helpful distraction from the fact that it was the dead of winter.
I was ruthlessly dedicated to tracking my outfits; no hang-up could stop me. Even when I fainted on the NYC subway (cause: locked knees and heat exhaustion from an Aritzia SuperPuff) I still managed to document my outfit and update my tracker.
Spurred by the desire for something new, I started pulling items in my closet that i typically never wore. I experimented with color coordinated pairings and versatile, goes-with-anything basics (early 2000’s Tommy Hilfiger and Free People hand-me-downs from my Mom and Aunt).
It felt satisfying to make use of all my clothes and materialistically de-bloat; I was pleased by my thriftiness and found the wardrobe styling really fun. Despite not having purchased anything new, I felt like I was cultivating newness in my style. Each piece in my closet was like a variable in a statistical equation; the fitted-dark-denim Tommy Hilfiger jacket could go with a skirt, cargo pants, my go-to track pants or a matching jean… so many combinations and I wanted to try them all! These so called style experimentation sessions (me trying on clothes and making a mess of my room) leave me feeling inspired, excited and grounded in my sense of self. For me, a good outfit feels like Feng-Shui for the body.
Chapter 2: The grind
To nobody’s surprise, after a week or so the fun of no shopping wore off. I had hardly made it ten days, and was already feeling so sick of my clothes. By day 20 I was dying to make a purchase, and genuinely felt like I’d cease to exist if I didn’t buy something soon. The off the shoulder Massimo Dutti top I had just ordered arrived, and it was alarming how much it felt like a breath of fresh air. Was it that dire, how much I needed shopping?
Certain pieces were starting to emerge as my go-to’s, like my Paco Rabanne / H&M track pants, a Zara red cardigan, and turtlenecks from Gap. I wore these pieces on repeat, putting them to use until they lost all their novelty and just became plain old clothes. But while these pieces were starting to lose their sparkly newness, with each additional wear they transformed into the reliable and core essentials of my wardrobe.
In an effort to distract myself from the never-ending urge to shop, I tried focusing on other activities, like writing and collaging. I made mood boards consisting of tempting clothing ads, emerging trends, and old runway shows. I day dreamed about the day in the semi-distant future when the weather would be warm, the challenge would be over, and I could buy myself jean capris – a wishlist item inspired by one of Joan Baez’s costumes in A Great Unknown.
A week or so later something miraculous happened. I woke up one morning, got out of bed, and felt a shift in me.
Could it be?
The urge to shop was pretty much gone. I still loved fashion and thought about clothes, but the desire to buy something had slowly taken up less and less space in my brain. It was as if I was suddenly free to go about my day without feeling like I was missing something. It was a liberating feeling.
Fighting the urge to buy something when I felt like ‘I needed it’ had proved to me that I didn’t actually need the ‘it’ in question. It may sound obvious, but I think it’s easy to get trapped in the consumerist mindset that we need certain things in order to feel a certain way – which is what makes advertising so effective – and through my abstention I learned that this is not actually the case.
“But what is happiness? It’s the moment before you need more happiness.” - Donald Draper
And better yet, not only was not shopping good for my mind and my wallet, it was also stimulating my creativity. Beneath my desire to shop was the desire for what it gave me – excitement, color, novelty. Without the ability to buy new, colorful, and exciting clothes, I was forced to cultivate those same feelings through other means.
Since I couldn’t purchase something new, I created things that were new. I wrote a 2024 Fashion Audit because it was the only way I could interact with fashion while still not shopping. When I liked an influencer’s outfit, instead of clicking on the affiliated links, I did my best to emulate the vibe with what I had in my closet. I realized that I liked the outcome even better, because it was organic and unique.
A limited palette can sometimes lead to the best results. I was pairing items that I had never worn together before out of pure boredom, and the result was some of my favorite outfits yet.
“Buy less. Choose well. Make it last. Quality, not quantity. Everybody’s buying far too many clothes.” - Vivienne Westwood
Getting to know my wardrobe intimately over those 75 days also helped me take stock of what my closet had and what it really needed. Since I wasn’t actively shopping, I had time to really think about the purchases I’d make when the challenge was done:
I had plenty of white tops, but could use a simple white collared button down.
I loved wearing my red cardigan, so maybe a red tee would be a nice addition.
I was set on sweaters but wouldn’t mind some new pants in the mix.
Instead of bouncing from purchase to purchase, I was planning my shopping intentionally. I had a better gauge of what I was wearing regularly, and what potential purchases would be most worthwhile.
In addition to documenting each outfit, my tracker became somewhat of a diary as well. Below each photo was a short description, from “Made homemade gnocchi hungover with my Aunt,” to “Fainted on the NYC subway” to “Bakery run.” Not only does it show all my outfits, both the pajama days in bed and the party nights out, but it’s also a ruthlessly realistic description of the days that make up my life.
Chapter 3: The Fall
Everything was going great until Day 49, when I got to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.
We kicked off the week in Nola with a brunch at Superior Seafood, complete with charred grilled oysters and frozen cocktails. Taking the remainder of our second (or maybe third) frozen French 75s in to-go cups, we gallivanted down Saint Charles in the February light, soaking up the sun for what felt like the first time in years. Beads hung from every iron fence and tree branch, glittering like gold. In the dead of winter, New Orleans will remind you how to be happy again.
Of course, we had to pop into one of our most beloved New Orleans establishments, The Chloe.
And of course, they were hosting a pop-up Mardi Gras market. “Should we just pop our heads in and look?” It wasn’t even a question, of course.
And of course, I found a wacky, tuxedo style patterned button down top that felt like a personalized gift from the very spirit of Mardi Gras and New Orleans herself.
Those who know New Orleans know that it’s an eclectic, free-spirited, freak flag kind of place, and Mardi Gras is the epitome of that essence on steroids. Carnival is all about indulgence, rule breaking, and all around debauchery. It’s the ultimate binge of worldly pleasures before Ash Wednesday – always the day after Mardi Gras – when lent and a season of asceticism begin. New Orleanians take the holiday seriously - Thanksgiving and Christmas hardly mean much in comparison to carnival season, which they know to be the real holiday season.
Businesses shut down for the week, the roads close, and people stock up on food and water as if preparing for a storm. Everyone surrenders to the five days of partying ahead of them, that essentially require all in your power to not forget your own name. It’s insane, ridiculous and beautiful all at once.
So of course, breaking my 49 days of no-shopping discipline to buy this all too Mardi Gras-esque top felt like the perfect act of defiance to kick off the festivities. I have to admit, breaking the rules felt amazing, and I had a feeling it was exactly what I was supposed to be doing. After making the purchase, I stood outside the hotel with my new top on and smoked a cigarette under an Oak tree while we waited for our uber to Pat O’s.
The point of Mardi Gras in a spiritual sense is to experience catharsis. The beads, hand painted parade floats, and non-stop parties in the streets are the true incarnation of release. If an artist offers to paint my face at a party, I’m obviously going to say of course. My Staud Yin/Yang dress is a Mardi Gras classic – my mind immediately jumps to Libby wearing the dress at Krewe de Vieux in 2020, jumping in the parade for a moment to dance with the marching band.
Mardi Gras is bad for the body and good for the soul. I left the city after our week of festivities yearning for sleep, health, and the physical comforts of living in a structured society, but my spiritual cup had runneth over.
Once I got back to New York, I ate chicken noodle soup for three days, avoided alcohol like the plague and got back on the good old no-shopping horse.
Epilogue
By the time my 75-day challenge was nearing a close, the ice was thawing, the days were lengthening, and the horizon of a new season of warm possibilities was coming into view. I may not have completed the challenge perfectly, but I gave it my best shot. I learned plenty along the way, one of the most important lessons being that while buying stuff is fun, I don’t need to do so in order to feel happy and excited about my life. I surprised myself with my creations when I couldn’t lean on consumerism and ended up feeling more inspired. And of course, I delighted a little in breaking the rules, but only for a moment before retreating back into the stability and comfort of my routine. Resisting temptation is a skill, yet restriction and indulgence are two sides of the same coin, and perhaps I need a little bit of both in my life.
The day my challenge was over, I ordered denim capris and a red top, but not without resisting the temptation to add more things to my cart.
