Second quarter.

I seem to have missed three months. And I acquired heaps of new things in that time. Most of it was while travelling, though, and I did tell myself all bets were off while overseas. The trip itself was, though not an object, a very resource-intensive luxury, and by far the most expensive thing I’ve bought all year, but then visiting my relatives also felt like a social necessity.

Purchases, Shanghai:

  • one pair of prescription glasses (which I don’t need just yet but my current ones are beginning to fall apart and I figured I’d need new ones before the next time I could afford to go overseas — they are about a tenth of the price in China that they are here!)
  • one pair of prescription sunglasses (this will be the first time in about ten years I have had sunglasses — I didn’t miss them but now that I have them I realise how much my eyes were straining in sunlight)
  • a shirt, two dresses, a pair of shoes, two necklaces, some underwear (no excuse at all)
  • this book
  • a postcard by a Chinese artist whose name I’ve forgotten and I’m too lazy to take it off my wall to check
  • two ShanghaiPRIDE badges
  • a pair of woollen tights because it suddenly got really cold one day

Other acquisitions

  • a new laptop (gift from my grandparents — amazing!)
  • a bag and a jewellery box from my aunt
  • a bag and scarf from my other aunt

Purchases/acquisitions, Kuala Lumpur

  • this book (I really like the first story and a couple of others, there are some terrible ones too though)
  • some comics/zines by Shieko
  • sticker for an awesome band Shh…Diam! (which I think is also designed by Shieko)
  • 5000 mosquito bites

The laptop is a pretty big deal — and it makes this project kind of redundant, given that it was probably at the top of the list of new things I was considering. It does put me and Felix on a bit of a more equal footing — not that it’s a competition but he came into this project with a new bike, laptop, PSP and other tech while I had a bike I bought five years ago that’s probably 30 years old, Felix’s old laptop, and Felix’s old iPod. For me technology is a bit harder to buy second-hand compared to things like furniture or clothes, because I don’t have the knowledge to judge its quality or the skills to fix it, so I prefer to buy something new with a warranty.

In other news, Felix and I have been struggling with not buying the newspaper, especially on Saturdays, so we keep going out for coffee just so we can do the crossword. It’s been really sweet, actually, making a proper date of it, but obviously it’s not really in the spirit of reducing consumption. I think one effect of the No New Year project is that my extravagant impulses are re-directed towards food (to the detriment of seafood sustainability, it has to be said). Felix and I have told our families not to buy us presents this year, but I think it would be easy to do gifts with No New Year in mind – second-hand goods, or food, or tickets to events.

I had planned an awesome date with Felix on the weekend, where we would go to ACMI Screen Worlds exhibit where you can film yourselves and have a flip book made of your stop-motion scene. And then we realised that the flipbook would be a NNY violation, but this was a case where the idea of the date was almost as good as doing it — which isn’t true for most things, especially not food (I’m reading Dorothy Allison’s Bastard Out of Carolina at the moment, and it has a scene where they’re really hungry and talk about all the things they could be eating – so dissatisfying). In any case, ACMI is always a great date, especially the Mediatheque where you can grab a booth and watch full feature length films for free. My friends disapprove of movie dates but I like them, though probably more when you already know someone. Maybe one day I’ll make a guide for free or cheap dates in Melbourne.

I’ve also resolved some of the issues I had in previous posts. My housemate found some earphones for me in a bin, and gave me her old mobile phone. We also managed to furnish our living room and replace the kitchenware we needed with all second-hand goods. The furniture is pretty exciting: we got a red vinyl four-seater sofa bed, two matching armchairs, a hunter green upholstered three-seater sofa and matching armchair for $60 – that’s averages out at $6 per seat which is pretty good I think. It’d definitely be possible to acquire that amount of furniture for free (from Freecycle, Gumtree or roadside hard rubbish) but given neither of us own cars, it was too hard to co-ordinate it with opportunities to borrow transport, plus we wanted something we really liked — when you live up several flights of very narrow stairs, all furniture is a commitment.

I was thinking the other day how speaking honestly and explicitly about money can be really powerful, how so much economic injustice is buried by this idea that talking about money is bad taste. I think this is mostly a (Western) middle class aesthetic — like in Mad Men (S2E7) when Sally Draper asks her mother, “Are we rich?” and Betty replies that they’re comfortable but it’s impolite to talk about money. My family are fairly open about money — I grew up hearing the bill read out at the end of a meal, and whenever I received red envelopes from relatives, my parents would count the cash so they could ensure they were giving an equivalent amount — but I’ve still been taught a lot of values about money that I’m starting to reject.

Most of them are about being (or seeming) respectable, which is really about not seeming desperately poor — for example, you don’t go through bins or squat or steal because we’re not that poor. And I think there’s something to be said for that, when it’s understood as something like, don’t take things from people who need it more, but it can also be this way to stop poor people from getting what they need out of a sense of pride. When it’s institutionalised — eg when welfare programs means-test or demand other evidence of poverty — it means poorer people suffer extra surveillance and have to trade “pride” and privacy for getting material goods they need.

The inverse is that if you pay for something, you don’t have to account for it — you don’t have to prove why you need it or deserve it — especially if you’re the one “making” the money. I think sometimes when people first start getting paid for work they often pick up this kind of thinking, even if they don’t believe in capitalism, even if deep down they know that having a paycheck in your name doesn’t translate to having “earned” anything. And really the people who are most held to account for their spending aren’t landed gentry or celebrity heiresses or lottery winners or those who did well with stocks, they’re people on welfare. But obviously if you’ve been up all day and night scrubbing dishes or sucking cock or whatever, it does feel like you have to have earned something. Whatever it is, it probably isn’t the right to more resources. I’m not saying that everyone should give away everything they earn — I don’t — but I do think we like to compare our extravagances to those who are far wealthier than us, because it’s inconvenient to think about people who are much poorer instead.

Another thing: good taste is irrelevant — as a justification for spending money, if we’re talking about capitalism and poverty. I mean, throwing a steampunk themed party in a reproduction dirigible where the invitations are in period-authentic type is just as obscene, in this regard, as any tacky wedding with a crystal-laden gown that detaches to show off the bridal g-string and a procession of Hummer limos. They might differ in terms of environmental impact, I don’t have the knowledge to offer you a comparison.


First month.

So, as far as I can remember I haven’t bought anything new except consumables (food, drink, toiletries) but I haven’t really succeeded in cutting down unnecessary consumption either.

Yesterday I bought a dress, even though I have more dresses than I have friends, just because, well, I don’t have a vintage safari dress and it was $5. And I would probably have got more if they’d fit me (heads up, if you’re size 8-10, there’s two fabulous ball gowns at Lost & Found Market on Smith Street, for $10 each — one is strapless with a black velvet bodice and magenta taffeta trim and skirt, the other is long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder black velvet). My darling friend also bought me the killerest shoes when on holiday, which are no less an extravagance for being second-hand.

I agree with what Felix said about op shops operating as a pressure valve for any guilt we feel about new purchases. Op shops don’t represent, and have never represented, a closed cycle — the majority of goods sold are second-hand only, donated by their first owner, and in terms of clothing, usually only a few years old. Even if I never buy anything new, I usually only buy things that are effectively new — no holes or stains, not too faded or worn. (A princess aesthetic is less suited to this project than a punk’s, I think.) And though I take pretty good care of my things (I am still wearing a dress I had my Confirmation in, twelve years and many ideologies ago), I have to acknowledge that the things I donate to op shops tend to be in poorer condition than the things I purchase from them, if only slightly.

Op shops actually justify fast fashion, in many ways — though op shops have much more trouble selling last season’s chain-store threads compared to anything that can be classed “vintage” — because just the motion of tossing something that’s nearly new into the garbage might be enough to make us think more about our consumption. Putting your unwanted things into a donation bag instead of the bin gives away the responsibility for waste — in many cases, simply to the op shop staff, who throw out unmarketable items. Like any recycling system, op shops depend on the uptake of post-consumer waste, but (like most recycling systems), far more people contribute to the input than purchase the outputs.

My and Felix’s relationships to clothes make for an interesting comparison. I probably have ten times more clothes than ey does. The average length of time we’ve had each item is probably similar — I acquire new things all the time, but Felix doesn’t have anything old. I can’t remember the last time I wore through something, though Felix’s clothes are always falling to pieces. This is mostly because any one piece in my wardrobe is on such low rotation, but I think I do take better care of my things too. I polish my shoes, hem my trousers, replace buttons, and have shoes resoled (only in China though because here it costs more than my shoes ever do). But once things start to look ratty, I don’t wear them so much — I am aware that my style is less suited to environmental consciousness than others. And I don’t accept that it’s simply a style, a preference; I don’t accept depoliticising aesthetics in that way. I prefer to present myself in a way that is associated with higher class, greater wealth, and which requires more resources — regardless of the direct financial cost, I like to look expensive. I think that’s a problem.

The concept of style is clumsy when applied to what one wears: Arguably, designers have style, but a consumer’s aesthetics are more appropriately called taste. And taste is never quite individual. This is especially apparent when talking about taste in people, particularly lovers — I think everyone could quite easily critique what they find sexy, for example, by reference to popular constructions of sexiness. And it’s probably quite obvious that a taste for, say, the classic quilted Chanel handbag with the chain shoulder strap is not purely aesthetic (especially this season). But alternative tastes are equally situated within an aesthetic culture. This isn’t to say that your tastes aren’t genuine. I have never believed that knowing why you love what you love diminishes it. But I don’t think it’s possible to draw a line between one’s aesthetics and the status we try to achieve through our consumer identities. Less I shop therefore I am than you are what you buy. And I think this still goes for things you don’t pay for.

I really want this project to be something other than the ultimate in rebellious consumption for counter-cultural status, but I don’t have high hopes. I think there are still some choices that aren’t consumer choices, but late capitalism is constantly compressing that space.

x Gauche

P.S. If you click on one link in this entry, that last one is the best. Or for some light entertainment, watch Katy Perry versus Karl Marx.