Freedom of Choice?

This downsizing project has led me to wonder about the value of choice.

Why do I need 5 pairs of yoga pants? Or three sets of dishes (everyday, fancy, and fun)? Or 4 sets of sheets? Or a very large quantity of socks. Each of these categories connotes quantity for the sake of choice. Only in rare instances can I use one of these categorical items at a rate of more than one at a time.

If I had a lot of space, time, and willingness to be completely transparent, I could waste your time listing all of the choice related repetition in my closet.

Here are some things I like: a) thrift store shopping and b) the opportunity to express myself through my clothing choices. I may not be crazy or overly distinct in the latter, but I like it all the same.

Here are some things I don't like: standing in front of my closet in the morning unable to make a decision about what to wear, feeling overwhelmed by the choice -- from a large quantity of items I don't really love.

Unfortunately thrift store shopping tends to lend itself directly to the habit of purchasing the less than perfect item of clothing, and often too many of them.

I remember when I spent a semester abroad in the UK in college, my American friends and I observed the European penchant for wearing the same outfit multiple days in a row -- until it's essentially dirty (or sometimes beyond). It was also quite clear to us that the Europeans had a flare for style that eluded us -- they had fewer clothing items, but the items they had were well chosen. This was 1993, so my friends and I were still walking around in our Gap flannel shirts of the Seattle grunge era. To fit into our new European surroundings, we essentially took ourselves on a group field trip to buy Doc Martins and then prided ourselves on passing as locals.

Since college, I've noticed that some of my friends not only observed, but adopted a portion of the European approach to dressing: buy only things they really, really like and being okay with the price tag. Essentially, buy fewer items and spend more on them because they look and feel great. Now every choice in their closet is a good one, even though there are fewer.

(Problem #1)

I think it would be hard to refute that getting a deal has become a near obsession in the U.S. or most likely, any capitalist culture. When sharing the news of a purchase with a friend, how often have I led with, "I got such a good deal!" It is as though the "deal" was the purchase, whereas the item acquired was secondary to the great price I got.

(Problem #2)

We equate choice with freedom. The phrase "freedom of choice" is almost an anthem in our society (and I make no reference to the contentious issue of abortion). The more choice we have, the more freedom we have. However, in a short two and a half weeks of starting this project, I have come to see some (gaping) holes in the logic.

Creating an excessive amount of choices for ourselves (because I do think there is a tipping point, not all choice is bad) leads to more internal debate, uncertainty, apathy, disconnectedness and a lack of appreciation for any one thing that we do have.

It might even be true that the more we have of one thing (let's pick something benign, like winter gloves), the less care we give them. If I only have one pair of gloves, I am much more likely to make sure I don't lose them. Though, if I know there is a basket of others to choose from, I am more careless.

When I moved back from living in Ecuador for two years, my first trip to a store was to a supermarket. I was going to a potluck and I was supposed to bring a salad. I walked down the aisle to buy dressing and as my eyes began to scan the shelves, I froze. I couldn't believe what was in front of me. Not only were there 100s of choices, there were at least 20 different choices of ranch dressing alone. So overwhelmed, I walked out without buying anything. In my supermercado in Ecuador -- the "upscale" supermarket mind you-- there were 2 types of salad dressings to choose from: 1 ranch and 1 Italian. Two bottles and that was it. And I don't remember feeling deprived. I remember eating well in Ecuador -- a diet rich in fruits and vegetables and no convenience foods (in the end, we made our own dressings). Less choice in the supermarket meant more creativity in the kitchen, more time spent connecting with the food that would nourish me.

One day Larry and I were at a friend's house who was remodeling and we were discussing various styles and design solutions. Someone asked Larry, "What is your style?" He looked at her and matter-of-factly said "old". "Old?" she echoed, and he said, "Yes, old". With such an unusual response, the conversation died, and we were back on to where the new closet would be situated.

Later I asked him what he meant, and I said, "Do you mean antiques?" and he said not necessarily. I knew that he didn't, because I knew him, but I wanted him to explain further. He said he liked things that told a story, which wore their history in their threads, which earned their right to stick around. He asked me, "What do you own that you wouldn't get rid of?" I thought about this and I said my photos, journals, and other sentimental items. "That's it? Not a favorite old jacket or that perfectly worn in pair of jeans?"

I thought about his question for a while. I don’t really have a favorite old jacket or the perfect pair of worn in jeans. To some degree, the combination of getting a deal and buying into the culture of choice has left me with a collection of easily replaceable items (disposable?)

Implementing the lessons I’m learning now will require a new set of questions when I want to make a purchase:

• Do I really, really like this item?
• Does it have staying power?
• Does its addition to my life add value or just create unnecessary choice? (aka, do I really need it?)

Do you have an guidelines or questions you use when you are deciding whether to buy or acquire something new?

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