to thrift is to thrive

three things you can do today, this week, and this season

Of all the sweetness in life, a sun-warmed tomato picked from the vine and popped in your mouth is up there.

I didn’t plant any tomato seedlings this year; they just shot up from the earth, resurrected from the fruit that fell to the soil as last summer faded. They are only just ripening thanks to the weather that has only just warmed. It hasn’t cost me anything but time and care in the form of attention and daily watering to eat these red morsels that taste like the best of summer.

My garden, which is rather rambling and haphazard, is currently thriving. I don’t really like the word thrive, mostly because it’s been over-used in wellness speak. However, I do enjoy exploring etymology and when I realised that the root of thrift is thrive, I thought to myself: ‘yes, that makes a lot of sense!’ Making thrifty choices feels meaningful; it gives me energy, makes me feel alive.

There is an undeniable freedom when you decide not to frivolously consume. But this is increasingly difficult in an age of hyper-consumerism where choosing not to spend requires both clear intentions and focused attention. When your awareness falters, your spending tends to increase.

Our spending habits ebb and flow because consuming is often an emotional response. We spend when we’re bored and when we’re uncertain. When we feel uncomfortable pondering the hard questions - who am I? what do I believe in? what’s my moral code? - we distract ourselves with the ease and quick dopamine-fix of something new and shiny. It momentarily pulls us away from our niggling doubts and fears, a small relief even if regret quickly follows.

We also have a scarcity mindset that means the most primal part of our brain thinks: I’d better get this now, because it might not be there later. An intentional thrifty mindset requires a slowing down where you can take the time to find what you need and stretch the positive experience by savouring the planning, hunting and eventual acquiring.

January’s practice of resolutions is fickle but intentions feel more grounded; they inspire a more considered mindset rather than carrying the expectation of momentous, certain change. Sometimes this means just sitting with yourself (and your budget) and figuring out the next steps; a slow and considered approach.

Of course, there are times when frugality is not so much a choice but a necessity. In precarious financial seasons, you can learn lifelong lessons that alter and influence your spending habits moving forward. And when your budget isn’t as constrictive, you can covet what you choose to buy with a deeper sense of gratitude and care. Subsequently your belongings last longer, and you spend less on replacing them, and so the cycle goes.

If we have the opportunity to look at our budgets, adjust our spending habits and commit to saving a small amount every month, we’re doing so from a place of immense privilege. It’s important to remember this.

It’s also helpful to get clear on how much stuff is in the world. There’s no more pertinent reminder than the donation pile outside op-shops in the first week of January. I contributed to that pile this year, like I do every year. And I looked at it and felt deeply uncomfortable by the excess — mine and everyone else’s. This was one little op-shop in a small rural town. The reality on an international scale is ghastly.

I’m holding this thought while I’m organising the new school year by figuring out what fits and what doesn’t, what can be passed onto friends and sold, what jackets and shoes can be stored in the mudroom for the next child in line. It’s a never-ending cycle but it’s one I’m glad to exist in.

There is work involved in this frugal way of living but it’s meaningful work. It’s also tangible care. You’re considering your needs in the moment and you’re planning for what you may need next week or next year. You’re also caring for your community and the earth; taking only what you need, leaving the rest.

While my current frugal season is more constricted than previous, it’s a forced shake-up that has immediately lifted me out of complacency and encouraged a return to a more considered way of living. I’ve been here before and perhaps you have, too. Frugality is a little like exercise; you’ll go through seasons when you lose track of your intentions, usually in busy or challenging periods where you choose the easy option as a means of protecting your mental health. And then when you have more energy or a newfound resolve you return to a familiar, intentional track. And it feels good.

Once there you realise that enforced thrifty boundaries have considerable benefits; there’s less decision fatigue which creates more space for contemplation. Conscious spending begets conscious living and along the way you get to know yourself and figure out what matters to you. In what seems to be an increasingly uncertain world, this is something you can control.

Even when I’m beginning again I start small. Maybe you want to start here, too?

three things you can do today

1. unsubscribe from marketing emails, even if it’s just a few to begin with.

2. write a meal plan for the next 7 nights (plan to cook double one night so you can add a meal to the freezer) and shop accordingly.

3. start a list in your notes app of things you need so when you’re in a thrift store, you can shop with intention; wooden spoon, mixing bowl, black scarf, a copy of The Art of Frugal Hedonism, glass jars.

three things you can do this week

1. commit to a no-spend week; it’s a really practical way of observing (but not judging!) how often you mindlessly consume. Of course you can create your own rules for this but I limit myself to groceries and petrol — anything else is considered ‘spending’

2. sign up to your local library (consider it your civic duty), locate the seed libraries in your area, plant some herbs and salad greens (or plan your spring garden if you’re currently in the slow dark of winter).

3. swap a drive for a walk, a cafe lunch for a picnic in the park, takeaway for leftovers.

three things you can do this season

1. be honest about what clothes you wear and what you don’t. We’re halfway through summer/winter so take a scrupulous eye to your wardrobe; consider getting rid of the clothes that languish so you can get the most out of what remains. This process minimises the choices you make each day which lessens your mental load.

2. commit to being less impulsive and more considered with your spending. I find the best way to do this is to keep a list of what I want to buy and only purchase when I’ve thought about it for a few weeks. Where possible I buy preloved, when possible I buy new with one guide: quality outlasts trends. There’s also some purchases that will support your long-term frugal intentions: a coffee machine, gardening tools, cast-iron cookware, needle + thread.

3. in the space that opens up when you’re not spending, rest, read, walk, and upskill. When you’re not buying or working to pay for things you don’t need, you create more time. You could learn to visibly mend your clothes, make things from what you’ve already got, embark on gardening with joie de vivre (I love

   lofi life
   for the encouragement to just start!) or do what you’ve always been meaning to do: write a novel, make your own jam, take mid-week trips to the beach, read a book in the hammock while sipping tea.

three reminders to come back to when you’re feeling disenchanted

1. start where you are, with what you have (even if you have to start again and again)

2. use what you’ve got; it will most likely do the job

3. remember there is immense joy to be found in the most ordinary of simple things, like a ripened tomato picked from the vine in your garden.

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other things

• cleaning kitchen benches and buying new pens is how some writers procrastinate; writing this opinion piece on my deep love of stationery was how I procrastinated this week (I’m in the concentrated space that only exists when I’m a few weeks out from a book deadline, hence my mind is prone to wandering).

• If you want to approach this year with a realistic money perspective, it can be helpful to hear stories from all angles. Rick Morton’s On Money is a good place to start; he speaks brilliantly about growing up in poverty and how it’s influenced his spending habits on this podcast.

• if you want to be reminded of the cost of fast fashion, watch Last Train Home; a documentary on the largest annual human migration where 130 million Chinese factory workers return home for new year celebrations. We recently watched it with our kids to reiterate the message that cheap clothes mean someone, somewhere, is suffering (even if they’re grateful to be employed).

• The Book Show has a new series — My Biggest Book, where six renowned authors talk about the book they wrote that changed their lives.

• a new identity

Till next time, take care x