No new clothes in 2025

Ambitious? Maybe. Possible? Entirely!

Yesterday, I shared an ambitious goal with my friends: in 2025, I will not buy any new clothes.

A couple of months ago, I cleaned out my closet. These were my criteria for getting rid of things:

• Haven’t worn it in the past year

• Doesn’t fit me

• Won’t miss it

After several hours of cleaning and sorting, I had four giant bags of clothes in great condition to give away. Seeing my impulsive shopping habits laid out in front of me like that made me feel ashamed, especially because I was left with a still-full closet of things I wanted to keep. A lot of the clothes in the donation bags had been worn once, and a few things still had tags on them.

What I texted my friends after I finished cleaning my closet

I posted the clothes in a Facebook group for free things in Toronto and got dozens of messages from people who wanted them. The next day, I met a woman in my apartment building’s lobby. I wheeled a luggage cart, hulking with the bags of clothes, out to her car and watched as she stuffed them all into the trunk of her sedan. They barely fit. (She sent me a message a few days later to tell me she’d shared the clothes among her friends and coworkers. She also asked me what detergent I used because the clothes smelled so good, which really gassed me up.)

I’m still wrestling with the guilt I felt when I saw how many clothes I’d accumulated over the past several years. Clothes I didn’t wear or even think about. What’s worse is that almost all of it was purchased through fast fashion outlets — namely H&M and Old Navy. I had many excuses for why I mainly shopped at those stores: my sizes were available there, they were generally consistent in quality, and most of all, they were affordable. I also don’t have the patience to thrift shop, especially because it’s hard to find cute clothes above a size 10 at thrift stores.

This might be a controversial opinion, but I think these are all valid reasons for people to shop at fast fashion outlets. Few people have the money to invest in higher quality, longer-lasting pieces — this is the first year I started making enough money to feel comfortable doing that myself. I also feel the pain of finding ethical fashion brands that make clothes in inclusive size ranges.

However, as I’ve been reflecting on my shopping habits, I’ve been trying to understand where the impulse to shop comes from. I appreciate fashion and love red carpet roasts as much as any other person, but I’m not personally that excited by the creative opportunities that come with dressing myself. Some of my friends have a keen eye for colours, patterns, and materials and put together gorgeous and interesting outfits as a form of self-expression. But for me, shopping is almost always accompanied by unhealthy feelings of… escapism? I’m not sure what else to call it, but a lot of the time, shopping fills a void. Buying new clothes helps me feel closer to the unrealistic, idealized version of myself in my head. This pair of Mary Janes will turn me into her! This sweater-over-an-itchy-satin-skirt combo is exactly the look I should wear to be her!

Through indulging in shopping to feel better about life, I’d fallen for every tactic used in the fast fashion industry: fake scarcity, flash online sales, drop shipping, you name it. Moreover, I’d convinced myself it was fine that I regularly shopped at H&M and Old Navy because I never shopped at Shein. Shein is a nightmare for workers’ rights and fast fashion’s biggest polluter, putting out up to 10,000 new items daily — but let’s be honest, H&M and Old Navy are not good options just because they’re not Shein. And their recycling programs are greenwashing schemes. Speaking of, I also thought regularly buying new clothes was okay because I donated my old ones — but, unless I was directly handing the clothes over to someone like I did with my recent haul, I was never sure where those clothes actually ended up.

Being very online, I’ve seen trend cycles moving at a breakneck pace and always wanted to remain at least somewhat in-the-know. Mary Janes are in. No, ballet flats. No, Ugg slippers. No, cowboy boots. Tomato-girl core, barbie-core, fairy-core, coquette, mob-wife aesthetic. Wired headphones. Ribbons in your hair. Demure claw clips. It’s brat summer, dress like a party girl. Ankle socks are out, you’re a cringe millennial if you’re not wearing crew socks. Put charms on your purse and make sure it’s a shoulder bag, not a crossbody. Flared leggings only. Rectangular sunglasses, not cat-eye. Wait, Y2K is back? The girlies are wearing low-rise jeans and grommet belts unironically? Shit.

But now, I’m fucking tired. As I approach thirty, I’ve slowly stopped caring about keeping up appearances. I care a lot less about being “current” and what other people think about how I look. I care a lot more about finding a sense of neutrality with my body image and figuring out what actually drives me. Recently, this self-reflection made me think about what would happen if I just stopped buying new things. The trend cycle moves so quickly that by the time you buy something new, it’s already on its way out. So why bother? I have everything I could ever need to dress myself for any occasion.

One person changing their shopping habits will not make a dent in the systemic problem of fast fashion, but I don’t think that’s an excuse to shop as though my actions don’t have consequences. Two things can be true: big corporations polluting our air and oceans due to unimaginable amounts of waste are responsible for climate change, and it’s empowering to opt out and be smarter about how I spend my money. I can reign in my impulse to shop and redirect that energy to something more fulfilling for me and better for the planet.

So, yes! No new clothes in 2025. This also means no thrifting, no new accessories or shoes. The only exceptions I set are for new underwear and sneakers, if needed (I wear the same pair of running shoes every day, and they will fall apart eventually).

I think this will force me to be more creative with what I already own. If I really need to, I can rent formalwear or borrow from my friends and family on the unlikely occasion that I need something I don’t already have.

I want to end this by saying that I understand that even the goal of not shopping is a privilege for many reasons. I own so much of something that I don’t need any more of it at all. I’m also not a caretaker for a child (my 8-year-old niece is growing so quickly that needs new clothes almost every month). My body doesn’t undergo any significant changes or fluctuations in weight that require me to have multiple sizes of things on hand. I’m sharing this goal with you not to get up on a soapbox about fast fashion but merely as an accountability exercise for myself. I could care less if you keep shopping at H&M, Old Navy, or even Shein after you read this — but if you’ve made it this far, consider if you even want that new thing in your cart.