Opinion: Borka Shoemaker
Buying clothes and snagging something new releases dopamine in our brains—no wonder we chase that feeling again and again. But since the happiness from that quick win fades fast, we often find ourselves back in the fitting room. Our closets are full, and global temperatures keep rising—but letting go of that easy joy feels impossible. So how do we have our cake and eat it too?
I love shopping—I won’t deny it anymore; I’m just trying to make sense of it. Like many, I get joy from finding the perfect piece, a surprise “treasure,” or even just imagining how a new find will fit into my life. The difference might be that while in the 2000s we could brush it off with a few self-deprecating (and, let’s be honest, often sexist) jokes, today it’s harder to ignore what’s really going on behind the scenes.
Overconsumption, waste, and the “cheap and plenty” mindset no longer feel like harmless games.
And while I get that, I’m no ascetic. I don’t believe the only right path is to give up all (or most) of life’s pleasures. Deep down, I still believe we’re here to enjoy ourselves. And while true, lasting happiness isn’t found in the fortieth pair of shoes, I also think life already has enough challenges, compromises, and stress. Sometimes, a little quick joy feels just right.
For Me, It’s All About Balance
This didn’t happen overnight—it formed slowly, through trial and error. One of my simplest yet most powerful tools is budgeting. I set a monthly limit and stick to it. It’s firm, non-negotiable, and doesn’t care if something’s on sale or if I’ve “always wanted that exact item.” It’s surprisingly freeing not to overthink every choice: if it fits the budget, I buy it; if not, I don’t—no matter the discount.
I also try to build my wardrobe more consciously. Cutting out fast fashion completely hasn’t worked for me—and I don’t think it’s realistic for everyone. Instead, I set boundaries: I buy basics from these places only when I truly need them. For a black tee, a white tank, or a few pairs of socks, I don’t feel the need to spend extra time hunting or pay more.
But when it comes to “special” pieces, it’s different. If my budget allows, I happily choose higher-quality, timeless clothes from designers whose work I truly value. These aren’t impulse buys—they’re thoughtful—and that’s why I feel a stronger connection to them.
What’s probably made the biggest difference is discovering thrift stores. Shopping secondhand is a whole different vibe. It’s cheaper, which matters, and it’s more sustainable. But what really surprised me was the thrill. It feels more like a treasure hunt than just shopping. I might not find anything—but when I do, it feels even sweeter. And that’s exactly the dopamine I’m after.
I won’t say the guilt has disappeared completely. Maybe it never will. But it no longer paralyzes me; it guides me. It reminds me that my choices matter—while still letting me simply enjoy what I’ve found sometimes.
