By Victoria Richards

It was New Years Eve， 2016， half an hour before midnight， when I last bought myself something to wear. Like many parents of little kids， I wasnt out partying but ensconced1 in the living room at a friends house， dozy with drink， wondering how long I had to stay up before it was acceptable to go to bed. Rock and new-baby roll.

I took out my phone and opened Instagram. I saw a friend of a friend in a fantastic dress， and scrolled2 straight through to the comments. I was in luck. Shed mentioned the shop shed bought it from and linked through to the website. They had a sale on！ But... oh no. It ended on 31 December.

I felt a bolt of adrenaline， a sense of urgency flooding my fingers， quickening my breathing.3 Only 30 minutes left. I needed to act fast. I pushed myself out of my cosy chair to grab my purse from my bag， typed my card details into the tiny screen， rationalising4 the spend as “the last one of the year”. I hadnt been shopping for ages. Id been too busy caring for a newborn， spending my maternity pay on nappies.5 I didnt fit into any of my old clothes， and I deserved a dress like that... didnt I？ Purchase made， I concentrated on the countdown， ignoring a creeping sense of spenders guilt.6

不夠，是消费的动力。衣服不够时尚，手机不够新款，口红不够多，车子不够酷……新年的钟声已经敲响，新一年的买买买又将拉开帷幕。消费主义盛行的今天，在关注衣橱里还有什么衣服不够的同时，我们似乎也该想想，自己的内心有什么不够，周遭的他人又有什么不够。刚刚过去的2017年，对一些人来说是不够的、剁手的一年，对本文作者而言，却是不“购”的一年。来看看她是怎么想的。

Ten... nine... eight... seven... we clinked glasses， and I tried to remain philosophical. That money belonged to last year. It was 2017， now. The slate7 had been wiped clean. But then someone asked about new years resolutions， and I thought of the people queueing up at food banks， the rise in homelessness—one in every 200 people in the UK， according to the charity Shelter.8 I thought of how lucky I was， how privileged； the luxury of looking after a tiny baby yet still being able to spend money on a whim9. I thought of how downright distasteful it is in the West， how inured weve become to advertisers urging us to spend， the arrogant ease of it.10 One click to “buy now”.

“I just spent ￡60 on a dress I didnt need，” I blurted out.11 It felt like a confession. “Im going to stop shopping，” I continued. “Im not going to buy anything for myself for a year.”

The others laughed. It was clear they didnt believe me. Theyd seen my wardrobes， filled to bursting with dresses， wigs and scarves； theyd heard me squeal with excitement， trawling through charity shops and jumble sales.12 Theyd browsed the rail Id moved into the loft， filled entirely with vintage dresses.13 I havent， historically， spent a lot on clothes—preferring “retro” and second-hand clothing to high end or high street.14 Id much rather fritter ￡12 on a musty-smelling skirt from the 1970s than ￡50 on a pair of socks from Selfridges， but nevertheless， I was drowning in “stuff”.15 And half of it Id probably never even get around to wearing. It felt grotesque16 to have so much when all around me people had so little. And did I really need it？ Did it make me happy？ After maternity leave I was going back to life as a freelance journalist. Could I even afford it？ When I couldnt answer a firm “yes” to any of those questions， I knew what I needed to do.

Fast-forward 12 months and Ive made it through the year... almost. It was hard at times， made harder with the incessant emails from Asos， eBay and Urban Outfitters， offering me 20 per cent off here， free delivery there.17 I hit delete， relegated them to my “spam” folder.18 I avoided Westfield， Brick Lane and Oxford Street.19 Black Friday felt like a relentless assault of consumerism—I received dozens of discounts and “special offers” a day， but got through it by hitting “block” and “unsubscribe”.20

I had slips21. As bridesmaid at my brothers wedding in March， I was to wear a silver halterneck all-in-one （quite the challenge， when youre breastfeeding）.22 I needed a strapless23 nursing bra， and I could only find one online. And on a particularly tough November day， I spent ￡15 on a flamingo-print24 dress to cheer myself up， but felt so guilty when the package arrived that I sent it back， unopened. I even filled an online basket full of clothes at H&M;， then closed the browser before I could press “checkout”.

Its been tough， but its been refreshing， and it has always felt right. The decision to stop shopping helped me channel the money I would once have spent on clothes to worthier causes. Ive given more to charity and focused more seriously on my career， swapping the thrill of getting post for the excitement of pressing “send” on a ￡5 writing contest or competition entry.25 Ive written more in 2017 than ever before， and Ive even won some awards.

Im not the only one making the decision to cut down on spending—Ann Patchett26 wrote recently in The New York Times about her year of no shopping， saying， “If you stop thinking about what you might want， its a whole lot easier to see what other people dont have.”

I have plenty to wear in 2018. And now that my year of no shopping is drawing to a close， rather than being giddy with pre-spending glee， Ive made a list of the things I “need”： new jeans （my surviving pair are littered with holes）， trainers （the lining has ripped away）， underwear.27 For what 2017 has taught me， more than anything else， is that what I really want isnt dresses and shoes， but to spend time with my kids and to keep on writing. And I can do both of those for free.

1. ensconce： 安坐。

2. scroll：（在屏幕上）上下滾动。

3. 我感觉我的肾上腺素激增，紧迫感充溢着我的指尖，让我呼吸加快。a bolt of：一道，一束；adrenaline：

肾上腺素。

4. rationalise： 作辩解，找借口。

5. maternity pay： 产假津贴，后文maternity leave指休产假；nappy： 尿布。

6. 购买完成后，我专注于新年倒数，忽略掉慢慢袭来的花钱的罪恶感。

7. slate： 书写用的石板。wipe the slate clean意为把以往的错误一笔勾销。

8. 然后有人问起新年下的决心，我想到在食物银行排队的人和越来越多无家可归的人——根据慈善组织“庇护所”的数据，英国每两百人中就有一人无家可归。food bank： 食物银行，为穷人或无家可归者提供食物的慈善组织。

9. on a whim： 心血来潮。

10. 我想到了在西方，我们对于广告商极力怂恿我们花钱是多么习以为常，而这種傲慢的安逸又是多么令人反感。downright：极度地；distasteful： 令人不快的，令人厌恶的；inured： 习惯了的，适应了的。

11. blurt out： 脱口而出。

12. 他们见过我的衣柜里裙子、假发、围巾塞得装不下，听过我逛慈善商店和旧物义卖时兴奋的尖叫。wig： 假发；squeal： 尖叫；trawl： 搜罗；jumble sale： 旧物义卖，旧杂货的廉价拍卖。

13. 他们见过我搬进阁楼的挂衣杆，上面挂满了复古连衣裙。rail：（挂东西用的）横杆；loft： 阁楼；vintage： 复古的。

14. retro： 再度流行的早年流行服装款式，主要指20世纪60年代之后的服装；high street： 高街服饰，英国主要商业街的商店仿造T型台时尚，把秀上展示的时装迅速制作为成品销售。

15. 我更愿意挥霍12英镑买一条发霉的20世纪70年代的裙子，也不愿意花50英镑在塞尔弗里奇百货公司买一双袜子，但即便如此，我买的东西还是多得能把我淹没。fritter： 挥霍，浪费；mustysmelling： 发霉的，散发着霉臭味的；Selfridges：塞尔弗里奇百货，英国一家奢侈品百货公司，汇聚了数量众多的大众流行品牌及设计师专柜。

16. grotesque： 怪诞的，荒诞不经的。

17. 有时很困难，特别是当Asos、易贝、城市旅行者的邮件接踵而至，这儿给我打八折，那儿给我免邮费。incessant： 持续不断的；Asos： 创立于英国伦敦，是全球性的时尚服饰及美妆产品线上零售商；eBay： 易贝，线上拍卖及购物网站；Urban Outfitters： 城市旅行者，美国平价服饰品牌。

18. relegate： 归入；spam： 垃圾邮件。

19. Westfield： 韦斯特菲尔德伦敦购物中心，是英国乃至欧洲最大的购物中心，云集了300多个高街服饰以及时尚奢侈品牌；Brick Lane： 红砖巷，伦敦东区商业街，是英国复古店铺集中地；Oxford Street： 牛津街，伦敦西区商业街，云集了超过300家品牌店铺。

20. 黑色星期五简直就是消费主义的不懈侵扰——我每天都会收到数十封折扣和特价优惠邮件，但都按下“屏蔽”和“取消订阅”熬过来了。Black Friday： 黑色星期五，圣诞大采购开始之日，在这一天，商场都会推出大量打折和优惠活动，以在年底进行最后一次大规模的促销；unsubscribe： 取消订阅。

21. slip： 疏漏，差错。

22. halterneck： 露背的；all-in-one： （胸罩和束腰相连的）女式紧身衣；breastfeeding： 母乳喂养。

23. strapless： 无肩带的，抹胸的。

24. flamingo-print： 印着火烈鸟的。

25. 我捐献了更多善款，也更专注于我的事业。我不再因收取快递而欣喜若狂，我的兴奋点换成了花费5英镑参加写作比赛。swap：交换。

26. Ann Patchett： 安·帕契特（1963— ），美国当代小说家。

27. 我的不购之年已近尾声，为了不被购物前的兴奋冲昏头脑，我把自己真正“需要”的东西列了出来：新牛仔裤（我现在那条已经满是破洞了），运动鞋（衬里都磨穿了），以及内衣物。glee： 欢乐，欢欣；trainer： 运动鞋；lining： 衬里。