'Enoughness' in practice

How a week of No New Things can be both extraordinary and very ordinary.

A few weeks ago, I randomly spit out a post on here. And awesomely and oddly enough, my unplanned ramblings seemed to have struck a chord, especially the part about my low-key beef with the use and proliferation of the term ‘underconsumption,’ and how I’m replacing it with ‘enoughness.’

Maybe it’s my years working on government programs or at non-profits, but when I hear ‘underconsumption,’ I think that someone is not getting enough of something vital - not enough nourishment, no adequate housing, no medical attention, etc. And of course, sadly, shamefully, there are way too many people experiencing the real definition of underconsumption globally, and in the United States. But most folks IRL and on social media using #underconsumption are not those people. I’ve always said (and data supports this) that overconsumption is a byproduct of plenty, a hobgoblin of those with means. Thus, it’s not ‘cosplaying poor’ to do something like No New Things or live below your means - rather, I believe it’s incumbent upon those of us with the privilege of plenty to balance the scales of overconsumption by shifting our consumerist habits and leaning into enoughness.

Okay, end rant on the use of underconsumption. I’m sure most folks are just using it because it’s trending or seems to fit the bill. I’m not assigning malice to it, just a different perspective.

My new dining room, made much more enjoyable once I got up off my duff and hung my art. Feeling of freshness achieved!

What does No New Things really look like in practice?

A lot of tiny decisions that roll up to be a lifestyle. That said, you might be wondering what a week of No New Things habits looks like in practice. Like, is my life really cheap and droll and sad? LOL. No. Now, if you ask some of the jokers on Goodreads (who hate swearing and the occasional use of ‘babe’ in a book, and thus, dedicate an entire night to branding me a shopaholic who wears secondhand underwear), you might believe that enoughness will have you eating from the dumpster, wearing tattered clothes, smearing on crusty, used cosmetics, and wearing a perma-frown like some messed up, modern-day Oliver Twist. But that’s just not true. Instead, in the enoughness, I find creativity. In the enoughness, I find appreciation, freedom, joy. You cannot even begin to describe the relief, the shoulder-dropping relief of not being steered by society’s desire to constantly consume. So here are a few snapshots (all pretty ordinary, I think) of a week lived and enjoyed doing No New Things.

My completely unremarkable deck on a dreary day after I found said table in the trash for free. Just wait until the plants will be blooming and the booze will be flowing on here come summer.

Free Finds:

I recently moved into a new-to-me apartment. And it has a little private back deck. I opted to only use what I have/got for free to outfit it. So, just in time for the sun to appear, I have planted seeds that are already sprouting in terracotta pots that I got for free from Next Door, sat in Article chairs I also got free from Next Door, and just a few evenings ago, on my walk home from work, I found a weather-resistant table by the dumpster. Easy enough to carry home, perfectly suited to the space and my chairs. Is my back deck gonna be entered into a House Beautiful photo contest? Nah. But am I going to enjoy some really lovely al fresco meals, leisurely cups of coffee, and friend hangs out there thanks to this free stuff? You betcha.

Using What I’ve Got:

I’m pretty good about using up what I have before buying replacements. I’ve been really leaning into this by hitting the beauty and grooming trial sizes I have in my stockpile. Everything I use up, I wash and take to be recycled at the receptacle at my local Sephora (you can do this, too - so easy!), so finishing something feels doubly satisfying. This also means I stick with the makeup/shampoo/lotion/whathaveyou I’ve already got before I restock. And that’s made getting ready so much easier, as well as made for some fun self-care nights. You haven’t lived until you’ve combined three almost-finished conditioners together to make a mega hair masque. Trust. If this is your vibe, or you want to get better at this, I love that #ProjectPan content is so accessible. Check it out for solidarity and inspo.

We’re in to the samples stash now and that’s when you know your project pan/using what you’ve got is going well.

I didn’t have time to go grocery shopping this week, but I still packed my lunch every day. And it made for some cute and unexpected lunch combos that I ain’t mad about. Baby carrots and loose olives in the same Stasher bag? An actual salty delight. The last of the coco yogurt with some bits of pralines (from the bag in the recesses of my pantry) stirred in along with the last of the pineapple? DAMN GOOD. That last piece of pizza chopped up and air fried into croutons for a salad? Do it. Just do it.

It’s been raining here, which is great for the plants, and not as fun for a morning commute. For a minute, I thought ‘I should buy a rain coat’ for commuting, ya know, a cute, stylish one. And instead, I went to the closet, fished out the sickeningly expensive ultralight one I use for thru hikes, and wore that. It looked fine. It worked great. And I realized I really didn’t need another rain coat because nobody on the train cares what anybody looks like anyway.

Experiences Over Things:

My friend had a birthday many months ago, and to celebrate her, I booked us a BYOB mosaics class at the Chicago Mosaics Center (which I didn’t know existed, but is the largest mosaics school in the country). We had a blast, and each left with our own mosaic piece. We had a long overdue catch up, let our brains shift into creative mode, and had a lot of fun. I love how sustainable the activity was, too, since all of the glass and tile are reclaimed. 10/10 recommend.

Am I a famous mosaicist yet? Duh.

Connecting with Community:

As one does when one moves, I’ve been realizing despite my more minimalist-leaning ways, I still have quite a bit of stuff I don’t need or use. So, I’ve been posting on my local Buy Nothing group to ethically offload some stuff. In the rare times I post about needing something on said group, whenever someone offers me that item, I always ask them if they’re in need of something. I find this builds further rapport and reciprocal trust, and is just a nice-human thing to do. Well the other day, I finally experienced someone doing that for me when they were making plans to come get a saucepan I was offloading. “Do you need anything right now?” And, though it is a very niche thing, I told her, “My sliding glass door has no screen. You wouldn’t happen to have an 80 x 20 metal screen for that would ya? Har har.” And by the miracles of all things reuse, SHE DID. One of my personal mantras is “Don’t Ask; Don’t Get” and boy, am I glad she asked! Now, I can enjoy the breeze off the aforementioned back deck without worrying that my obese cat will barrel through to the wild word outside his sacred confines.

Proof of First Gen AirPods, and I’m still very much alive, very much still listening to music and podcasts and phone calls.

Appreciation Over Consuming:

I’ve always experienced a surge of gratitude when I abstain from buying new stuff for awhile, mostly because many of us already have SO MUCH STUFF. Like, could I buy the latest Airbuds? Sure. But my first-gen ones still work great. So, I clean them and remove the horrifying gunk that gets into the case over time, and they still work well. Is my head sometimes turned by a new lipstick or perfume? Obviously. But then I clean up my makeup bag and take stock of all the body mists and fragrances and lip products I have and I’m like oh wow, babe, you’re stocked! Even my new apartment, which, like all apartments has pros and cons to it, was starting to feel a little meh to me. So instead of buying a bunch of stuff to freshen the space, I put on some classic R&B (if you’re not listening to the first album by the Stylistics, YOU MUST), set a timer for 2 hours, and put up a majority of my old gallery wall in my new space. And now? My place feels exciting to walk into, more fun to take Zoom calls and podcast interviews in, and makes me smile. I didn’t need new stuff, I just needed newness. And I can get that from taking stock of and appreciating (and sometimes repairing, cleaning, etc) what I already have.

Behold: The bathmat in question. It lives to fight another day. Probably another decade.

A completely unextraordinary example of this is my bathmat. Yes, we’re talking about a bathmat. I’ve had it for a minute. It gets washed every week and does a great job at its intended purpose. I’m not looking to enter my bathmat (which spends most of its life hanging behind the bathroom door) in a towel beauty pageant, but being able to hang it up was a feature I liked. The other day, the loop on it broke off. What did I do? I fetched a piece of ribbon (from the inside of a shirt, you know, the hanger loops that I usually snip off), threaded it thru, and boom: a hanging bathmat again. I told you that was very unextraordinary. But in all these ordinary things, choices were made. There’s always the choice to buy something new as a means of supposedly solving supposed problems. Or there are myriad other choices that can be made that involve creativity, ingenuity, reuse, appreciating, relying on each other, or just the plain old wonder of finding a table on the street that fits perfectly on your back deck.