We just had half-term with all five children (Rob co-parents his three from his first marriage) and spent the week at home, choreographing our days around the twins’ lunchtime nap and everyone else’s energy levels. Somehow we managed to keep all our delicate plates spinning. Just about.
I realised that when I’m frazzled I want to buy things. Ridiculous, I know. Yet there I am imagining myself cosying up in a pair of Stars and Stripes x Rixo leopard-print pyjamas or obsessing over the latest M&S x Bella Freud collab. In a parallel universe, one where I hadn’t given up buying clothes for a year, I’d have definitely found a way to convince myself that one of these collaborations deserved a spot on my Christmas list.
Unpacking it, I can see that being exhausted or generally not myself is a trigger. That little hit of feel-good neurotransmitters from buying something new – a dopamine shot to save the day – is alluring. Shopping offers instant gratification and a tiny escape from chaos.
Then there’s the marketing genius of collaborations. You get designer pieces, often in familiar styles and prints, at a fraction of the price. They sell out fast, and suddenly it feels like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you can’t miss.
The good news is I swerved the trigger. No clothes were bought. Instead I treated myself to poetry books. I got the dopamine hit of something new yet stayed committed to my challenge. Hoorah.
Here are some pictures of me looking knackered this week, rocking outfits from my existing wardrobe.
freckle. 