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  • Writer's pictureBen Pechey

Confessions of a Shopaholic

I am obsessed with things. I freely admit, and have done so regularly here, the importance that things have had in my life. Whether as a tether to a world that feels fleeting, as a way to affirm my identity, or as a coping mechanism.


There have been so many times, where I have pinned my future happiness on one item. As if a singular thing will change my life overnight. This future hope culminates in opening a parcel. This warms fuzzy feeling soon fizzles, and I am left with a lighter bank account, and another thing that I am going to have to fight to find storage for.

It will come as no surprise that I have more clothes, bags, and shoes that I know what to do with. My three (3) wardrobes were stuffed to bursting, and up until now, I never imagined I could part with any of it. A change of heart has of course happened.

Over the last few months, I have decided to let go, and have sold over 75 items & donated 20 or more items from my vast collections of stuff that has filled every inch of spare space I have had for the last decade.

It started with a Mulberry bag, that I lusted after, but actually ended up not purchasing. It was £995, blue, and beautiful. To me, that is a lot of money, that is rent, that is a holiday, that is not impulse money. I thought, that if I truly wanted that bag, then surely I had that money locked up in my possessions.

Suddenly things that I had been holding onto, things that made me who I was, that defined me, I saw them as wasted money. Wasted potential. Wasted opportunities. Instead of loads of little things, I could combine them into one significantly longer-lasting item I would use.

I suddenly saw that I could re-divert my investment, into new investments. I could turn the impulsive hoarding into real capital that could go on to have a beneficial impact on my life.

So I set about selling my wardrobe.

It wasn’t the dramatic auction of all possessions like at the end of the film version of Sophie Kinsella’s Confessions of a Shopaholic. Instead, it was measured and gradual sorting out of the things I had. I based my desire to keep things on the amount of use, and the time it had sat dormant. If it had less than five uses, or I hadn’t worn it in the last 12 months - then on Vinted it has gone.

I have loved selling things, it is actually quite addictive.

I love knowing that the things that I have loved are going on to have a new life with new owners. I feel better about my impact on the world, knowing that I have increased the life span of garments by selling them on to new homes.

In short, letting go has made me feel lighter, and has given me more happiness than any one singular item has ever given me.


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