On Holding Out For The Right One

One of the most unexpected side effects of switching careers a year and a half ago was how the new gig single handedly curbed my desire to acquire stuff. You long time readers out there know that this "stuff acquisition" issue is long-standing and rife with angst, so the curbing of it is a pretty big deal.

I'd like to be able to attribute the change to career fulfillment --  to report that finally finding deep satisfaction in my work fed a void that I had been previously been filling by buying crap I didn't really want or need (or love). That feels much more enlightened than what I'm about to admit...

But it would be only partially true. See, here's the thing, now that I know what the really, really good stuff looks like, everything else is ruined for me.

I've spent a good chunk of the past two years pursing high-end showrooms, pristine art galleries, and beautifully designed homes. I've come up close and personal with painstakingly-crafted wood credenzas, zillion thread count sheets,exquisite hand-painted wallpaper, and a lamp so well-constructed that my heart ached a bit when I turned its heavy switch and it clicked into place.

So now I'd rather save every one of my pennies for something beautiful, timeless, well-made, special. I thought that's where I stood before, but I've reached a whole new level here friends. I promise this doens't come from a snobbish place. My pennies are few, so even after saving them, the best I can buy is still often from the IKEA, and I'm cool with that. But I won't buy something just to, well, buy something anymore. Those days are over.

So instead of 10 bottles of ho hum, not quite right red nail polish, I'll save for that bottle of Tom Ford above (i.e. the best nail polish of. all. time.). Same for the perfect black heels, bag, blazer and swimsuit (you know I love me some black). I'll shoot for chandeliers and wallpaper that will look just as stunning 20 years from now, and if I can never scrape up the dough to actually swing them, I'll just ditch the entire thing and go all monastic a la Georiga O'Keeffe and Lisa Jackson.

After all, that kind of minimal, simple perfection never goes out of style.


Sarge in Charge said...

I find that every time I settle for the cheaper version, I regret it! Ugh. I can't even imagine how I'd be if I were exposed to the good-good stuff like you.

Unknown said...

Hoo-rah! My mom is a big time hoarder, the acquisition of stuff for stuff's sake. You would not believe her collection of black flats, it is epic. What I have learnt from watching her collect things is that there is a short fleeting joy that comes from accumulating quantity. So, Hoo-rah to the appreciation and celebration of fine workmanship, perfection achieved and the need for Gucci boots that are quite more than a little out of reach.