Pernicious

per.ni.cious [adjective]: having a harmful effect, esp. in a gradual or subtle way.

There is a pernicious foe that threatens to allure me every holiday season. Sneaking around disguised as pretty advertisements promising me free merchandise and bonus deals is the dreaded "spaver."

That's right--I said "spaver."

The spaver, my friends, looks like a sale. Offering discounts and prizes, it appears to save you money.

But it doesn't. Oh no, it doesn't.

Because what you're really doing with the spaver is not saving but Spending! Like this ad above, beckoning me to spoil myself with this wonderful deal. I only have to spend $89 for a $224 value.

Only $89! What--does money grow on trees these days? I have two words for you: Cover Girl.

Ahem...as an aside, notice how this promotion mentions gift-giving in parenthesis and tiny print while "SPOIL YOURSELF!" is in large, bold letters? THIS is why I end up spending more on myself than anyone else during the holiday season. But I digress...
Moving on, how about this familiar little trick? This time I only need to purchase a sweater at regular price and I can get the second one free! Nevermind that the regular priced sweater I'm paying full price for is probably over $100! And naturally I don't get the free shipping unless I spend $125.

Are you catching a trend here? Notice how much I've already spent so far on these "savings?" (hint: it's already over $200 and that doesn't even include J.Crew and Pottery Barn!)
And even the coupon codes, like the one above, say "SAVE NOW," but you have to spend $75 to get the savings. $75 at Walgreens? What are they selling over there these days, I wonder? Cashmere? Diamonds? Rolex watches?

Pernicious, I tell you. Pernicious.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some shopping to do...

Holiday Rx: Tuning Out

My dog, Agamemnon, (yes, that’s his real name. For the record, I had nothing to do with it.) never overspends during the holiday season. Never. So when January rolls around, he does not succumb to the stress and guilt that the rest of us feel after a full month of consuming.

Now, this is for a number of reasons. First, he is a dog and doesn’t have any money. So naturally he’s got that going for him. Second, he knows how to tune out periodically during the season. Allow me to explain...
Agamemnon is quite committed to spending hours--even days--during the season avoiding all forms of holiday advertising. He stays off the computer. He avoids television. He casts disdainful glances at catalogs. He steers clear of shops.

This behavior, I realize, is quite radical for us humans to adopt. But perhaps we could learn a thing or two from Ag. For instance, ever since Thanksgiving commenced, my inbox has been stuffed to the gills with advertisements. At least every other new message I receive is from the Loft or J.Crew or Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Even Walgreens is cyber-stalking me!

And this, of course, says nothing about the tv ads and tantalizing Pottery Barn catalogs and beautiful gift guides that the glossies are printing--all calling out to me to spend.

Now let me tell you a selfish little secret of mine: I only pay attention to the items that I want, and disregard the rest. So naturally when I head out to the store, or onto an online retailer, I catch myself picking up “just a few small things” for myself while shopping for others. Things I didn’t really think I wanted until...say...I saw them in my inbox.

This, of course, leads to much overspending and feelings of guilt following the season.


So though I could never be as committed as Agamemnon this season, I do think that I might try his technique every now and then, by turning off the tv and shutting down my email and enjoying an afternoon at home instead of at the stores. Sort of like a consumer-detox during the shopping-binge.

It certainly seems to work for Ag, anyway.

What are your tricks for staying within your budget during the holidays? Share your comments here by posting them below!

Where You WON'T Find Me on Black Friday...

Today is Black Friday. It is a day when the masses flood the retail stores to snag great deals on holiday merchandise. A day for merriment and joy. A day for glee.

But you won’t find me joyfully shopping, and here are the reasons why:

* It interferes with my dedicated plans for laziness:
I know there are plenty of families who love to round-out a weekend of eating and napping with a high-energy tour of the malls (it’s like retail exercise), but I don’t come from a family like that. Instead, I have grown up in a culture that believes that the four-day holiday break is good for one thing: doing nothing. We sleep in. We nap. We watch movies. We leisurely eat a mountain of leftovers. I just can’t break from tradition. My family needs me.



* I’m a holiday-shopping-procrastinator:
In other words, I’m not prepared for Black Friday. Yes, I’ve typed up and emailed my Christmas list to everyone, but I’m nowhere near determining my lists for others (I may have just confessed to a series character flaw here....). So though I suppose I could go out to the stores, I would just wander the jam-packed aisles with no purpose.

And with no purpose we all know what happens--I end up buying an armload of absolutely adorable gifts....for me.


* Finally, it’s absolutely crazy out there!
I’m not telling you something you don’t already know. The one and only time I’ve ever ventured out on Black Friday I reached the parking lot before dawn only to realize that there were no parking spaces left.
Who are these CRAZY PEOPLE that get up that early and camp out in front of retail stores?!!!

Please...please...if you are one of them, tell me what I’m missing. Is it the deals? The adrenaline rush? The thrill of the sale? The smell of blood in the air?

Because I’m dying to know. I just don’t get it.


So today, when the sun rises, you’ll know just where to find me: in bed, sleeping.

Merry Black Friday. Now leave me alone--I’m trying to rest.

Where Originality Lives

This is the time of year when we start to pen our holiday gift lists--the emails and sticky notes and scratch papers that catalog the things we want and the things we need. And of course the things we will give to others.

Certainly I am a fan of this process. For the record, I sent my gift list to family members two weeks ago. And I keep thinking of new things I want to add to the list: Aveda lip gloss...an amber-colored lamp...pretty new design books.... I frankly love the festivity of giving and receiving gifts.


However, I can’t very well close out a series on being original with a Christmas list. Because being an original doesn’t start with the question “what do you want?” but instead with “what do you have?”

I’ve read a lot of answers to this question lately on Facebook as my friends daily list the things they are thankful for in this month of thanksgiving. It is undoubtedly a good practice--noting the things we have in our lives that bring us joy.


But beyond the art of simple appreciation there is also the adventure of reinventing and reinvesting the resources we have into new things. You’ve heard me refer to it as the new Midas touch during posts last spring, and I’ll likely keep talking about it until next spring. Because I know with conviction that there is a world of possibility lying dormant in our closets and our under our beds and tucked into our garages.

It is where originality lives.


It might come as no surprise to you, then, to learn that this year’s annual handmade holiday series (starting in about a week) will place a heavy premium on uncovering the original creations hiding in our nooks and crannies. The revamped sweater and upgraded shoes. The patchwork pillows and sparkly surprises. All starting not with what do you want?, but what do you have?

(note: the above photo is probably Not where originality lives, but it was so pretty I couldn't resist...)

And so I suppose that originality won’t end tomorrow, but will keep going into the holiday season and beyond.

Thank goodness, because I could really get used to this theme...

Skinny Jeans, and other consumer errors

I spent twelve dollars on a pair of used skinny jeans yesterday. Yes--skinny jeans. I swore--SWORE--that I would never do such a thing. I mean--they are all fine and well on fashionable teeny boppers, but I’m a grown woman. A grown woman who did, in fact, spend several years of her life rolling up the ankles of her jeans, and then has spent the remaining years trying to atone for such a grave fashion error.

And yet I bought some. I’m wearing them even now. Even though I still think they sorta make me look like a muffin, which as you all know is not the most flattering shape on a woman. And why am I doing this to myself? Because I am a tragic and yet willing victim of perceived obsolescence.
I talked earlier this season about planned obsolescence--which is when manufacturers intentionally make products with short life spans so that we have to replace them. Like my faulty hair dryers, for instance.

Well, perceived obsolescence is similar, except that there is nothing faulty about the merchandise. We are persuaded to replace it not because it has fallen apart or quit working, but because we perceive it to be obsolete (aka outdated). Such is the case with my skinny jeans. They are, frankly, the “in” shape right now, especially with those knee-high rider boots that I’m coveting. I know you know what I’m talking about. No longer do I want to wear my knee-high heeled boots under my bootcut jeans. Oh no. I want to wear New boots Over New jeans. Is there anything wrong with my bootcut jeans (other than the new hole I just discovered in the knee) or my heeled suede boots? No, of course not. And yet still they are getting the boot (ha ha--get it? the boot...ahem...) by trendier (and admittedly less flattering) skinny jeans and flat boots.

It’s a sickness, really.
I don’t share this story with you because I’m proud of it. Frankly I’m a bit ashamed at my weakness for fashion trends. I’m sharing because I know you can relate. And because perceived obsolescence really is a sneaky consumer trick that should at least be acknowledged if not resisted.

Admittedly sometimes the resistance is futile. And someday I’ll look at the photos of me wearing these skinny jeans and think “why? what was I thinking?” Until then, I guess I need more practice at being less trendy.

A Talk on Trendy Cattle (and being an original consumer)

I wanted to follow up Friday’s introduction (in levity) of planned obsolescence with a little more chatter on the subject.

As “the Detective” mentioned, planned obsolescence is when manufacturers produce items that are intentionally designed to fall apart or break down within a relatively short window of time. This intention is orchestrated for one purpose: to get us to consume.

Now, there is A Lot we could say about consumerism these days. Depending on who you talk to, it is either the bane of our civilization or the salvation of it. And although both of those ideas are very intriguing to a closet nerd like myself, what I want to focus on...naturally...is originality.

In my opinion, planned obsolescence works best when we fit the mold. In other words, when we predictably make purchases based on price (aka the lowest price always wins), and on trend. For instance, Old Navy can afford to make shoddy shirts (and let’s face it--they are shoddy) because a) they know we love a bargain, and b) they know that the trend will expire about the same time as the shirt will.

So am I saying that being original means you have spend more money and eschew trends? No, of course not. I’m just as eager to find the cheapest ruffled apparel I can get my hands on this season as the next lady. But according to an article I recently read in Time magazine, women today make 75% of the buying decisions in American homes. In other words, collectively we are The Consumer. And as a group, I’m remiss to say that we tend to behave like cattle. Trendy, fashionable cattle...but cattle nonetheless.

Being original, then, means that we need to exercise our “consumer identities” with some foresight and intention. This includes budgeting wisely, investing in quality, and wasting less. And if that sounds about as fun as a wet blanket, don’t worry--there are lots of clever ideas and conversations ahead that will spice up the concept, I promise!

But before all of that...what do you think? Are we more cattle or ranchers? Talk amongst yourselves...

Other Be An Original Posts:
Original Sweater
A Story...
Be An Original

The Case of the Faulty Hair Dryer

The following scene is loosely based on true events from my morning....

It was a sunny Friday morning when she walked into my office.

“Detective,” she said, “I have a problem.”

I put down my pen and looked up. The woman in front of me looked normal, wearing a fashionable brown dress (of the likes I’ve never seen before) and suede boots. But something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it until she started talking.

“It happened this morning,” she continued. “I was getting ready for the day like I always do. You know--brushing my teeth, applying my make up, getting dressed. But then when I went to dry my hair, something went wrong. I started the hair dryer and instead of firing up like it usually does, it made a low, strange noise, and then just shut down completely.”


“How long have you had the dryer?” I asked politely, finally understanding what was off about her appearance. It was her hair--sadly flat and dull, she resembled a wet cat. Not flattering. Not at all.

“Oh, for less than a year I think.”

“Well, these things happen, ma’am. Perhaps you’ve just worn it out. New hair dryers aren’t that expensive, you know.”

“Well, yes, I see your point. It’s just that this is the second time in a month that this has happened.”

“Really.”

“Uh huh. The first time was more dramatic. I was using a different hair dryer--one I use for travel--and suddenly it started making strange noises. Then I heard a Pop! and a shower of sparks burst out from the outlet, turning into flame. I could have been harmed.”

“I see. And how long had you had this dryer?”

“Oh, for longer I suppose, but I didn’t use it more than a handful of times a year.”

“Well, ma’am, I think what we have here is a case of planned obsolescence.”

“Planned what?”

“Obsolescence. It’s when manufacturers create products that are designed to break down within a short period of time.”

“But why would they do that?”

“Well, to make money, of course. And to save money. They can make a product with cheaper parts, keeping the item at a lower cost, and also design them to fall apart quickly so that you keep coming back to purchase another one.”


“So you’re saying that my hair dryers are basically designed to be disposable?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“I don’t make the rules, ma’am. I just solve cases.”

“Well, thank you for your time, Detective. I guess I have to go buy a new hair dryer.”

"Good day, ma'am. And good luck with your hair."


Though this story is obviously dramatized, planned obsolescence is real indeed. And we'll talk more about it as our pursuit for originality continues.

And for the record...I am having a terrible hair day.

Have a good weekend!

Be An Original

Many of you know about my little “Target problem.” Like how I can’t resist the latest fashions in the Converse line, or their newest shoes, or Thomas O’Brien’s linens. Well, recently added to my Target problem is my ever-expanding J. Crew problem...and my rapidly budding Pottery Barn problem.

It’s a sickness really.

It’s a sickness that I was thinking about this weekend as I tried to keep myself out of the stores and away from spending money. I was standing in my living room looking out the window and trying to decide which new shade of Maybelline lipstick I liked the best when suddenly I noticed my throw pillows.

They were lined up on the window seat in an array of colors and patterns, and they looked so nice under the gray light cast from the cloudy skies. It occurred to me then that what I liked most about the pillows was that they were original--meaning that I made them myself, from my own designs.

And then this small mental sidetrack about originality began to snowball. I started to think about all of the other things I own that I appreciate for their uniqueness. Like my thrift store armoire, and my handmade coverlet, and the new sweaters and dresses I’ve been crafting lately. And I realized that as much as I love J. Crew and Target, there was just something special about an original item. As if they have “Stephanie” labels on them--fit just for me.

My thinking didn’t stop at “stuff,” either. Soon I was contemplating originality as a goal for living. Yes, I suppose that it is a bit cliche--like the earnest goal of a teenager trying desperately to be different--but I enjoy a good cliche every now and then, don't you?

So I thought that I would spend the next several weeks talking about Being An Original--about the pursuit of our originality expressed through our choices.

As you might guess, I’ll be sharing some original design projects with you all (starting tomorrow with my newest dress!), but I’ll also be talking about originality expressed in other areas too, like interests, intellect, and character. I'm excited to see what big-picture thoughts are stirred up by this series, and of course what unique projects are uncovered too.

And as always, I love to hear your thoughts and comments. What makes you An Original? What is your favorite unique item, or recent alternative decision? Share anytime by posting your comments here, or emailing me at shillberry@stephaniehillberry.com!

See you tomorrow!

Setting a Depressing Example

When I was in college, I spent one summer working at a dude ranch (yes--that’s right--a dude ranch, complete with cowboys, horses, and a bubbling brook running through the property) as a waitress for ranch guests. The family that owned and operated the ranch had lived there for multiple generations, and the oldest member--an elderly woman in her nineties named Tillie--still came down to the kitchen from time to time to visit. And to make sure that none of the food was going to waste. I would watch her collect the leftover bread and recommend to the cooks how they could reuse it for another meal. Or see her scrape the unused ranch dressing out of the serving bowls to put back into the storage container (much to the cook’s--and the FDA’s--chagrin). She couldn’t help herself. After growing up during the Depression, she was used to making every ingredient and household item stretch to the last inch.

Admiration
Although admittedly a bit sketchy when it came to operating a commercial kitchen, I had to admire her resourcefulness and ingenuity. And naturally I reflected on how far we had come since her days managing the ranch, with our disposable paper cups and plates, ketchup packets, and soda cans.

No Nostalgia Needed
No one wants to wax poetically about the Depression, or seriously propose a return to those hard times. Instead, we much rather prefer to climb out of this recession as quickly as possible before it does any permanent damage and we, ourselves, start licking the plates clean and saving the leftover salad dressing. But one thing worth noting is the example set by the generation that knew all to well what it was to have the bottom fall out of the economy. The ladies of that time were the first Recessionistas, and they were clever indeed. They remind us that:

Good Reminders
* disposable living is not something to esteem if it translates to meaningless consumerism and waste. “Waste not, want not” could stand a revival, minus possible compromises to health and safety, of course, and sluggish economies are good opportunities to practice the mantra.

* resourcefulness leads to resilience. There are few from that generation that are not revered for their persevering spirit. Their steady discipline of artfully appreciating and utilizing the resources around them helped sustain their ability to stay hopeful, productive, and even prosperous during hard times.

* and the best defense to calamity begins at home. We joke now about their quirky habits of saving things like newspapers and cardboard for “just in case,” but they know that when difficulty arises, it is good to have supplies on hand and to not trust absolutely in the back-up plans of commerce or government. We are fortunate to have a few safety nets that they did not, like FDIC insurance and credit cards. But we would do well to remember that even well meaning systems can fail to fill in the gaps that only a home can fill.

Acknowledgments
I, of course, want nothing more than to avoid walking in the shoes they walked in during the Depression. But I also want to acknowledge the important example they set, and the lessons we can learn from them as we walk through our own economic turmoil.

I might even reuse the heels of my bread to add some crisp to tonight’s chicken. Tillie would be proud.

Previous Recessionista Posts:
Thinking Outside the Box
Three Contingency Plans
Homegrown Resilience

Modern Benefits from a Vintage Chore

Since I left my 9-5 career a little over a year ago to pursue more creative and domestic pursuits, I have been struck again and again by a few reoccurring themes.  One of them is mindfulness.  You know--the practice (and I do say "practice" because it is definitely a process for me) of thinking more deeply about my relationship with my resources.  Practically speaking, of course, mindfulness is the art of shutting my wallet when the impulse to consume consumes me.

So it has not been too surprising for me to encounter lessons in mindfulness--poking into the room and out from under the sofa--while spring cleaning this month.  I've already alluded to this in recent posts--about how seeing all my Stuff has forced me to take a pause and contemplate how much a person (me) really needs.  And so I won't rehash what is simple to say, which is that cleaning and decluttering has tempered my desire to rush out to the stores and buy stuff, effectively refilling the spaces I labored so diligently to clear.

There is another quality of mindfulness, however, apart from this consumer conviction, which is a heightened appreciation for the things I have and renewed creativity.  This is the other side of the mindful coin.  While hearing daily reports of resource struggles (foreclosures and shrinking retirement accounts, etc. etc.), it has been an unexpected silver lining to find a bit of thankfulness for what I do have.  Because I have a lot!  If mindfulness is thinking more deeply about my relationship with resources, than I think that I am blessed.  And appreciation--more than conviction--will reform my habits in the stores and the attitude in my heart.

Furthermore, resources have a way of reminding me to be more resourceful.  And my definition of resourceful is the art of seeing new possibilities in old things.  The pleasure of taking a square of  old fabric and printing some Orla-Kelly-inspired motifs on them and then sewing them into tea towels is Far more enjoyable than buying her towels at Target for $5.99 (sorry, Orla).  It is practicing mindfulness at its best!

So, upon those reflections, I have basically finished with the "cleaning" part of my spring cleaning this year.  I have a few odds and ends to do, but the bulk of the work is over.  And as I prepare to tackle a few remaining projects (getting my financial records in order and stored for 2009, reviewing my budget, uncluttering my hard drive, etc.), I have to say that I have been very pleased with the process.  Not only do I have a cleaner house, but I have a renewed appreciation in our sophisticated world for the benefits of simple, old-fashioned tasks.  Tasks that, in review, save me money, improve my wellness, and transform my attitude.

So if you haven't taken up your mop and broom yet, I encourage you to do it!  Nevermind the traditionalism of it--give simple cleaning therapy a try.  I think you'll find a lot of modern benefits in this vintage chore.

Previous Related Posts:

Sprucing up my Wellness

Pinching a Pretty Penny

For all that Ails You

Resurrecting Jekyll & Hyde

There's nothing like spring cleaning to resurrect a little Jekyll and Hyde in me, meaning that it has raised a two-headed monster of consumerism to afflict my poor 'ole soul.

Allow me to explain.  While scouring and mopping, sorting and laundering, I've been slowly amassing a long list of things I want to buy from the store.  Things like storage boxes to keep my newly organized files looking pretty, and roman shades for my freshly sparkling windows.  Or a new quilt for my bed to liven it up for spring, and a few books to add to my library collection.  And because cleaning and decorating go hand in hand, I couldn't help but also envision some fabulous new bookshelves for my dining room while I was vacuuming the rug, or how great a new pendant light would look while I dusted the one that currently hangs.

So, on the one hand, cleaning and sorting everything stirs up all of these ideas I have for home improvements and new accessories.  Call it an occupational hazard of this spring-time chore.   Going inch by inch around the house reminds me of all the projects I want to do, and updates I want to make.  Great for creative expression, but not such a great thing for the pocket book...

On the other hand, loading up a mountain of magazines to recycle, and boxes of items to donate reminds me how much I already have that I don't even use.  Seeing the trash bin fill up with unwanted discards, and the closet emptied of unloved garments made me shamefully aware of how much I take for granted, and all the Stuff I manage to accumulate without even paying attention.  So much stuff, in fact, that it takes me days upon days to sort through it all and clean it up.

Furthermore, there is something so simple and gratifying about caring for the things I own.  "Caring" meaning that I don't let three years of dust and grime build up on my serving bowls, or a colony of crumbs settle into my sofas.  The unflattering truth is that I spend so much time thinking about what I can buy or decorate next that I often neglect the basic care and maintenance of what I already own.  I mean, can I justify purchasing shiny new things when I don't care properly for the things I have?

So, after wrestling with these two faces this week, I was pleased to stumble upon a print that seemed to put it all into perspective.  From Bold and Noble comes "Make Do and Mend," and it's just in time! After a week of pitching and scouring and dreaming up lists of things to buy, a simple phrase to remind me that spending some time enjoying and caring for what I have seems to be the life lesson worth learning.

Previous Related Posts:

Manifesto to Domesticity 

Faux Leather Bomber Jackets: my tale of impulse shopping

Nesting is...Economizing

the Compact and other Alternative Ideas for the Holidays

I posted a couple weeks ago about about the bigger picture behind this Handmade Holiday series, which is essentially to support mindfulness and resourcefulness during the season, and to invest in an alternative to the big-is-always-better modern economy.  

I was intrigued, then, to read about a group of people in this month's issue of Sunset magazine who approach the holidays with a little bit of a different viewpoint.  

The article, titled "The Sustainable Holiday" by Allison Arieff (I'd include the link but I can't find it anywhere!), focuses on a group of ten friends that started something called the Compact, an idea which has since spread around the world.  What is this Compact, you ask?  Well, the article explains that it is a vow taken to avoid buying anything new except for food, medicine and toiletries.  And the inspiration to embark on something so radical?  The holidays, and all the waste we go through this time of year.

Now, I had heard about the Compact prior to reading this article, mainly from an NPR segment that I caught snippets of on a family that was following it for a year.  Their reasons, I believe, were partly philosophical, and partly financial (they saved a lot of money, as you can imagine).  The reason for the group featured in the article was primarily a concern for the environment and resource-use.  Obviously it is not a mainstream practice!

The article goes on to list a few others who have caught onto the idea, and applied it to their lives, or modified it a bit (like the suggestion to cap holiday spending at $100) according to their convictions, means, etc.  

I highlight it as an example (albiet an extreme one) of an alternative approach to the holidays.  I think that I'm attracted to this Compact because there is something appealing to me about repurposing things we own, creating gifts from hand, and toning down in general the consumer madness that is the holidays!  It is refreshing to me to think about including some of these ideas this season and in those to come.

I'd love to know what you think about the Compact, and the holidays in general.  Please email me your thoughts today, or post your comments here.