What I learnt from a no-buy year

You can change your habits if you really want to and stick at it long enough

Image in the public domain downloaded from Cosmos

Don’t set yourself up to fail

Close the loopholes, or at the very least ringfence them: the first time I attempted this (five ot six years ago) I didn’t include underwear or hosiery, and as a result have an excellent pyjama collection (that I wear as clothes) and enough fancy knickers and tights to take me into my dotage. This time I allowed presents (but didn’t encourage people to buy me clothes) and replacements were considered (I didn’t replace the big purchase black cardigan (currently wearing it as a dressing-gown) but did buy more knickers when I was briefly without a washing machine, and I let myself replace socks, some of which are very elderly).

Make sure you have clothes and accessories to cover all eventualities (cold, wet, hot weather, casual and formal occasions) before you start so that you aren’t tempted to buy something. A waterproof coat and waterproof boots were game-changers for me because not only did they protect me from the rain, they made me feel confident that I had the right clothes for whatever I needed.

Go into it with a positive mindset. I wanted to enjoy the clothes I already had. I didn’t want to feel I was punishing myself. My aim was to feel appreciation, not deprivation.

This was a great experience for me because I already had a wardrobe I loved. I never felt deprived or as though I was lacking anything.

Learn stuff

I leant into outfit-repeating even though I had plenty of choice. It was as though my subconscious was reminding me that I didn’t need to think about buying more clothes because I still had so many options at home.

I didn’t consciously try to do different things with my existing wardrobe, but I guess my brain was casting around for ways of switching things up, because I found myself suddenly embracing navy, a colour I’ve never known quite what to do with (although apparently that didn’t stop past me buying it).

I didn’t fret about what I didn’t have. I anticipated that autumn and spring would be iffy as I struggle with what to wear when the weather is unsettled, but by anticipating it I took quite a lot of the sting out of it. I had decided my reward would be to plan a future transitional weather wardrobe, and I thought I’d obsess over doing that for months, but I actually pinpointed the things I wanted pretty early on, and haven’t deviated from that initial list (although I only plan on buying a couple of pieces) because I am convinced I know what an asset they would be.

If you don’t need anything new, buy your values. Even though I know I will wear a cotton sweater (because I have had many days when it would have made getting dressed simpler), I know I can live without it. So when I do buy it, I will get it from a brand that aligns with my values, however cute and cheap the high street offerings are.

The things that kept recurring in my wishlist were practical solutions, but that doesn’t mean they were boring. Among the knit jackets and cotton sweaters, the piece(s) of clothing I most found myself wishing I had was another pair of cotton Liberty pyjamas.

Listen to yourself

The longer this no-buy went on, the more I realised that I was happy with what I had. I lost the urge for newness and novelty, but recognised that sometimes it’s OK to want a change. Whenever I saw something desirable, I found myself questioning where I would put it, what it would replace, and if I really liked it more than anything else I had.

Because I wasn’t buying clothes, I had time to hear myself repeating the same things over and over, and also to hear other things peter out. Whenever I see something and think, “that would be useful!” I am beginning to recognise that this is something I like to say to myself to make myself feel that I am making sensible rather than impulsive purchases. If it’s not a transitional season top-layer, it probably won’t be useful, even if it’s nice to have.

Don’t listen to other (marketing) people

It’s easy to sell shopping - especially for clothes - to yourself as a self-care exercise: it feels like taking care of yourself, it’s the little treat we’re all told we deserve, it’s something you look at, and buy, and get to wear: the full sensory experience! But you can get the thrill from wearing something you already have and love.

Someone else doesn’t need to decide what your “basics” and “essentials” are. I’ve never read one of those lists of what every woman needs and found much on it that I need, at any stage of my life (and to be honest, the lists don’t change much across the decades). The idea of a quick-fix all-encompassing list is very appealing, but the reality is that there is no quick fix. You need to live in your clothes, and pay attention to how they feel, to work out what YOU rely on. However much people extol the delights of white t shirts, blazers, loafers or trench-coats, these items are never going to work for me, and however much I praise pyjamas as outerwear, tartan trousers, patterned everything and lug-soled boots, they are absolutely not going to appeal to someone else.

Choose your time period carefully.

12 months was a good period of time for me, and starting in the summer worked well for me too. I already knew I was happy with my summer clothes, I knew autumn would bring challenges, but I was looking forward to wearing my winter wardrobe. I wasn’t starting in the middle of a sales period, and because I buy in the sales out of season, I had new winter clothes I was feeling guilty about. By the time the new year rolled around, I was already immune to clothes sales, and punch drunk from Christmas spending. However, I started off just planning to do it month by month, and a few months in realised I could sustain it for the long haul. I think I’d have found the idea overwhelming if I’d decided to go for a year straight off the bat. Doing it gradually worked for me because it reminded me it was my choice, and I didn’t feel it was something imposed on me.

Appreciate

I appreciated shutting off the noise related to clothes I didn’t have but could have. I sat with the clothes I had. I wore them, I enjoyed them, I congratulated past me for her choices. Because I didn’t have to wonder if another sweater would work better with anything, I just enjoyed the things I had.

I also really appreciated that I had enough in my wardrobe to give me choice, and to cover any likely scenarios. If a family member had suddenly decided to get married, I might have had to buy something to wear (a family member’s being the only wedding I would go to), but otherwise I knew I had appropriate clothes for anything I would do, whether that was going to the opera or walking in the woods.

And I appreciated my clothes for covering the emotional scenarios as well. They were there for the tired days, the overwhelmed days, the energetic days, the dress-up days. The unexpected bonus of the no-buy here was that I just wore my clothes, and didn0t think about how they would look with a different top of bottom.

Reframe, refocus, rethink

I have a lot of clothes I like, and there was never any danger of me running out - even when the washing machine broke - but I don’t have an extensive amount of jewelry or accessories, and I realised how much I enjoyed that lack of choice: the more I wore the same bag and the same necklace, the less I wanted more of them.

I became more and more disillusioned by content designed to pressure people to think they need something, and also by content ignoring the provenance of all this stuff everyone apparently needs. How is it that we are in 2025 and still not asking new brands to be more accountable? I feel as though we’re moving into a third phase, where first of all we depended on brand-curated content to make us want things, then we moved into the influencer sphere which started off with good intentions and ended up with everyone looking the same, to this looser collection of people writing publicly with authentic recommendations that are framed slightly differently.

It’s about what you have, not what you are missing, what you need, what you can’t afford to miss in this incredible sale before the object of your adoration disappears for ever. A no-buy takes away the possibility of acquiring, so your action is to properly look at what you have. If you are like me, chances are that many of the pieces you now turn your appreciative gaze on were in fact extraordinary sales bargains snapped up at unbeatable prices. That’s great: well done, past you! But you bought those pieces to wear them, and to congratulate yourself on your foresight, and now is the time to lean right into that smugness and enjoy your coup. Or maybe you are pulling out old favourites, and realising that you mainly wear the same things on repeat, so there isn’t much point in always getting new stuff.

You may have started your no-buy because, like me, you felt you had more than enough clothes. You may have started because you felt you had lots of clothes and nothing to wear, and had lost your sense of what you really liked. You may have started because you were accumulating too much by chasing trends, or playing it too safe. In any case, by not shopping, and really thinking about what you are wearing as part of a whole that you have already chosen, you are giving yourself time.

Conclusion

For me, this no-buy did what it said on the tin. I started out with a full wardrobe of clothes I loved, and I wanted to take away the noise of wanting new things for the sake of it, I wanted to feel I was properly wearing and appreciating the clothes I had, and I wanted to lose the habit of automatically buying stuff. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy the process, but I truly did. It made me appreciate my clothes. It made me feel contentment. It stopped me feeling I needed/deserved little treats all the time.

I have a little list of things I’d like, but I recognise that none of them are needs.I doubt I’ll buy anything in August, which is when the year is over. I think I would rather feel that if something I already knew I wanted came up in the perfect iteration from one of my favourite brands, I’d be able to go for it. I do feel as though it has re-set my shopping habits, and not just for clothes. I’m tempted to see if I can extend it longer than the (self-)prescribed 12 months, and I’ll document anything I do eventually buy, to see if I keep to my current wishlist or stray off it.

I’m very glad I did a year-long no-buy, and I think it worked for me. But I have tried them in the past and not made it past a couple of months, which is why I think it’s crucial to feel both prepared and positive about the whole experience.