All posts tagged: new years resolution

A psalm a day keeps…

We were like marbles rolling around in a bowl. All around us, 360-degrees, mountains loomed in colours rich, dark and earthy. As the sun rose above the horizon’s lip, shadows began pouring like ink into the crevasses. Hubby Phill and I were at Lees Paddocks in Tassie’s highlands, having hiked in the afternoon before and set up our squeezy two-man tent beside the rickety old hut there. Why didn’t we stay in the hut, you ask? Spiders. Rats. Enough said. The syrupy sun thawed the valley quickly and we pulled on the same clothes, the same boots, cramming unwashed hair beneath hats, ready for some exploration. And the mountains. As we trudged over tussocks, scrambling over fallen trees and lively streams, the shadows changed the mountains’ appearance. The inky black penned in new crags and cliffs; this rock more pronounced, that ledge fading, this ridge slanting at a different angle. Every time I lifted my chin to appreciate the purple-grey-blue-green of the heights, a new vista. Same mountain, new perspective. This year I am reading …

Here’s how I’m shopping in 2018

Hello twenty-eighteen in all your glorious summer splendour! I must admit, from afar you looked like that glamorous mum at the playground the other day. Her skin was the colour of almonds and she wore a fitted knee-length skirt, milk-white cami and tan sandals that wound around her long, slim ankles. Her hair was swept into a ponytail, silky and caramel to just below her shoulders. I watched her, as I watched you, out of the corner of my eye, hoping she wouldn’t judge me in my ripped denim, thongs and t-shirt. I was intimidated by you. But then something happened. We talked. And she was sweet and she looked into my eyes and commented kindly of my children and we laughed together and I walked away chiding myself for being so shallow. So as I have eyed this new year, like a tray of 12 ice-blocks ready to plonk into the cocktail that is life, I’ve shed the fears. Because I didn’t achieve everything I hoped to last year, you know? I got disappointed …

I am not just another consumer

It’s been more than nine months since I started this no-new-clothes-for-a-year New Year’s resolution. Sounds like an AA declaration and, in many ways, I think it’s a good comparison. Fashion binging is a nasty habit that I’ve kicked. And what a fitting time to be telling you what’s been born from this experiment. Nine months (closer to 10 months actually) has been the gestation time for delivering a me that no longer identifies as a consumer. I still buy stuff. Too much stuff. But not to keep up, to feel good or for something to occupy idle mind and hands. I consume out of a measured need or desire. The pangs of, “I want!” still clamour but there is a new inner voice that counters, “Do you need it?” “Will it make you feel better?” “Look at your already-bulging wardrobe!” When I have a spare Saturday afternoon (I know, as ludicrous as it sounds, it happens every so often), my mind doesn’t dart greedily to time rifling through clothes racks for that fashion item that …

My fashion faux pas

I nearly dislocated my shoulder in the fitting room at Vinnie’s. There was this top, you see. Cropped. Long-sleeved. Deep blue. BNWT (that’s Brand New With Tags for the novice used clothing shoppers among you). I plucked it off the rack and flounced into the change room, pulling that curtain fair off its plastic runners. Halfway through I realised things were going badly. Arms were in, but head was not. To push on, or to retreat? Well, I pushed on, didn’t I? Yes, I did. Until, with much grunting and jiggling, I saw light from out of that toddler-sized top, even if my arms were cantilevered from my earholes. I didn’t need to so much as glance in the mirror to know that this was not a keeper. My shoulders were screaming by now… and did I mention I had an audience? Miss Three was looking at me with a mix of bewilderment and fear. Is mummy ok? her wonky eyebrows queried. I was about to holler for scissors when the blasted top let go …

That regrettable NY resolution: update #1

You might recall that, at the beginning of the year, I pledged not to buy a single piece of new clothing for 12 long months (…excluding underwear. Definitely excluding underwear!). How’s that going? Six weeks in I can report that it’s going incredibly well. Like, amazingly well. As in, my wardrobe is bulging with oh-so-fashionable op shop finds to the point where I can count on one hand the number of times I have looked longingly at a sales rack outside a clothing shop. See for yourself… All the above jeans, tops, dresses, cuff, jumper, shoes and shorts were purchased from op shops, markets, a charity clothes swap event, Facebook sales pages – or given to me by a caring friend (black top, bottom right!). And the brands! Sass, Nike, Stussy, Country Road, Quirky Circus etc. Safe to say, I have not had to compromise on quality one iota. Possibly the best bit about this New Years challenge has been hearing from those of you who have chosen to join me. You have decided to …

Part of me wishes I’d never made this NY resolution…

My New Year’s resolution this year is going to be tough. Three days in and I’m already wondering if this was a mistake. I mean, why would any thinking girl commit to NOT buying a new dress, new jeans, a new top for that friend’s birthday party – not buying a single item of new clothing for an entire year? 2017 is the year I’ve decided to refrain from buying any brand-spanking-new clothes. Any item of clothing accumulated in the next 12 months will come from op shops, markets, Gumtree, those Facebook pages you sell your old stuff on – or the wardrobes of friends who take pity on me! Underwear excluded. Underwear definitely excluded. About 85% of textiles end up in land fill; clothing is the second-largest source of pollution, after oil. We are a throw-away society. Fashion manufacturers are churning out new outfits as if they are everyday consumables like milk, toothpaste and toilet paper to keep up with our appetites for the trendiest, most ‘it’ clothing. Most of it is poor quality and …