Fashion Detox: Why I Gave Up Buying New

The end of impulse shopping

Last September, I set a challenge for myself: no new clothes, shoes, or bags until the end of the year. By "new," I mean anything freshly made, never owned, straight from the factory floor. Vintage and secondhand were fair game.

Two favorite 70s-inspired looks: Left vintage Gucci blazer and top. Right Vintage Issey Miyake IS Sport blazer with a Nili Lotan button down and Zoe Mohm broch. Both are styled with Nili Lotan jeans and this and this Aureum belt

It started with a familiar dilemma: a feeling that there's just too much stuff—too much in the world and in my closet— and a simultaneous love of fashion and beautiful things. I found myself stuck in a vicious cycle of constant acquisition. I'd check Net-A-Porter's new arrivals daily (and a few other favorites), follow a parade of fashion content creators, and scroll endless links to the latest it-piece. There was always something I had to have (and nothing I actually needed). Scrolling became automatic—a way to numb and disconnect. A chase of the dopamine rush associated with hitting "checkout."

But what comes after that dopamine spike? The inevitable crash, an anxious voice saying, "You didn't need that, you have too much stuff, that’s not good for the world," a feeling of being too full but not of anything worthwhile. I felt it deep in my stomach, similar to when I overeat (soemthing I am known to do).

This past September, I got swept up in the suede trend (along with everyone else). I found so many good vintage options. This one doesn't have a label. Styled with old Tibi pants.

Today, shopping is often fast and mindless, driven by convenience and instant gratification. There is little room for intention in the process. The ubiquitous impulse buy has become the norm. How often does a new purchase bring a deep sense of joy? More often than not, it's just another item to add to an already crowded closet. The excitement quickly fades, leaving a hollow feeling. I realized what I needed wasn't something new but a different way of operating, a reset.

So, the challenge began—not as some grand, disciplined scheme, but because I was simply tired of how I felt, sick of my behavior. I embarked with excitment and a bit of trepidation. I didn't know what to expect or if I'd even stick to it. Whether in January, I would abandon the practice and return to my old ways.

My favorite vintage Ralph Lauren leather skirt styled three ways. (left) With a Leset cardigan (middle) a Blaze Milano blazer and (middle) and a Loewe jacket (right)

Here's what actually happened: the cycle broke. That alone was the most significant shift. My scrolling habit? Just that—a habit. At first, I swapped Net-A-Porter for eBay and The RealReal, scrolling through the new arrivals, but the practice of mindless consumption slowly faded. I didn't overhaul my life in one day, but gradually, scrolling became less of a reflex. Now, I shop when I'm looking for something specific. It's no longer a daily activity. I am more thoughtful about each purchase.

The shift forced me to be more intentional. When shopping vintage online, you have to read descriptions closely, inspect photos, vet vendors, and sometimes measure yourself (as sizing standards have changed throughout the years). The items are usually non-returnable, so you have to get it right. It's a process that demands attention—and makes impulse purchases much harder. I have thought twice before shopping online, sometimes opting to wait and shop in person where I can try on the clothes, inspect the quality, and talk to the people in the shop about the piece's history (which is such a joy).

Vintage Christian Lacroix blazer that I wear repeatedly for dressier dinners and cocktail parties with Highsport pants

When I do buy something new (which I still do from time to time), it feels different. I weigh it carefully, sometimes for weeks. It's no longer an instant decision. I buy from brands I care about that align with my values, feel special, or have a personal connection. And it's rare. When it happens, it's intentional, not an impulse.

Unexpectedly, the challenge also helped me refine my personal style. I'm a uniform dresser, primarily out of necessity—busy life, small kids, no time. I need to get dressed and feel good quickly. My "uniform" is simple: jeans or trousers, a blazer, maybe an ankle-length skirt. I gravitated toward a "quiet luxury" aesthetic for ease, but something was missing. I crave individuality. I love fashion's playful, extravagant side: the details, the whimsy. Just sticking to basics doesn't make me feel my most creative. Vintage became the perfect solution.

My closet is full of 1970s Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gaushe. One of my go-to’s. Styled with old jeans, and Agmes earrings and ring, and a vintage Tiffany bone cuff

Now, I experiment while staying true to my core style. I can take a trend I want to try—a sheer skirt or polka dots—and find a vintage or secondhand version. The result feels fresh and modern but not like a carbon copy of what everyone else is wearing. Since embracing vintage, I've felt more creative when I get dressed.

What started as a challenge has become a lifestyle. I don't plan on going back. I've realized it's not really about whether something is new or vintage; it's about consuming with intention, slowing down, paying attention, and asking, Do I really want this? Does it add something meaningful to my life?

This vintage Donna Karen suit might just be my favorite thing in my closet.

The beauty of vintage isn't just in its uniqueness—it's in the patience it requires, the story it carries, and the hunt itself. Vintage is about process over impulse, embracing imperfection, and finding joy in things that feel rare and personal. It is about discovery, being open, curious, and willing to wait. It is also just cooler and more interesting. So cheers to slowing down, taking your time, and shopping with intention– Part II, some of my favorite fashion vintage sources and finds, is coming next week!

And in the meantime— check out the LES selection of vintage art and objects

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