I spent a year buying only thrifted clothing. Take a look inside my zero-balance wardrobe

While I didn’t buy anything brand new off the rack (except for a swimsuit because some things just shouldn’t be shared), I still brought plenty of new-to-me recycled items into my closet and became an expert in maintaining what I call a zero-balance wardrobe.

To bring new clothes in, old clothes had to go out first. I fell into a routine of purging my closet of items I no longer liked, trading them in for cash or store credit at resale shops and only then buying something “new.” Aside from teaching me material discipline, this process also saved me a lot of money. In most cases, I traded in more items than I bought so I walked away with new clothes and some cash. I basically created a system where I pay myself to shop for myself.

There wasn’t anything particularly challenging about the challenge but it made me much more conscious about how and why I buy. As with any industry, where we choose to spend our clothing dollars creates a ripple effect through the supply chain. If you buy cheap, mass-produced, disposable clothing (referred to as “fast fashion”), you buy into a system that perpetuates a cycle of BUY – DESTROY – DISPOSE – BUY MORE. It’s a reckless form of consumerism with devastating implications on the environment, economy, human rights and our own psyche.

I shifted my focus from buying cheap trendy stuff to buying sturdy classic items that could stand up to lots of wear and shifting trends.

Over the course of the year, I pared my wardrobe down considerably, completely emptying a 6-drawer dresser (which is now filled with my fiance’s things) and simplifying my definition of personal style. Today, all of my everyday wear fits right here in this IKEA wardrobe.

I also have one small closet for special occasion items like formal wear, seasonal stuff (like winter coats) and my beloved but completely pointless shark costume.

On January 1, I lifted my self-imposed ban on the mall and went on my first new clothes shopping spree at SouthPark. I hit Banana Republic in the midst of a major post-holiday sale and walked away with a mountain of cheap clothes that, wouldn’t you know it, I completely hate and never wear.

Maybe I got caught up in the abundant freedom of choice – in size and style and color – that I missed in my year of thrifting. Maybe I was blinded by the perceived “value” of a sale price next to a full-price tag. Or maybe I just don’t view shopping the same way anymore. Maybe for me the satisfaction lies in the hunt and the trade and the challenge of defining my own personal outward appearance by way of other people’s discarded leftovers.

Whatever it is, shopping will never be the same for me. And I like it that way.