What I Learned From My No-Buy Year

I discovered beauty content on YouTube in 2014, when I was 20 and in my third year of undergrad. I’d watch beauty influencers’ channels for their product recommendations, then buy those items. Shopping became my hobby. When I was home from university on weekends, I’d walk down to Winners and shop for new shoes and clothes. I’d stop at the Detox Market at Toronto’s Union Station and casually drop $150 on eyeshadows. Before beauty YouTube, all the makeup I owned fit into a single makeup bag. Just a year later, I owned more than 200 lipsticks. For the next five years, I shopped recklessly, spending all my money binge-buying at drugstores, fast-fashion spots and Sephora. In that time, I also started grad school and began working as a teaching assistant. I never tracked my finances. 

I hit rock bottom in November of 2019. I shopped Black Friday deals for days. MAC had a 20 per cent off sale, so I placed an order there; I also got several new pairs of boots and placed multiple Sephora orders. Dozens of packages arrived, one after the other, and I tore through them. The next week, I received my credit card bill. I had unknowingly spent $3,000, and somehow, I still wanted more stuff. I was disgusted with myself. Would I ever be satisfied? 

I knew my shopping habits were not normal. That December, I clicked on one of the no-buy videos that popped up in my YouTube feed. In those videos, content creators shared their approach to no-buy challenges, checked in on their progress and outlined how viewers could start a no-buy challenge of their own. To me, not shopping for a whole year seemed wildly unattainable. But as I watched more videos, I wondered: if I didn’t want to stop shopping, was that a sign that I should? 

On January 1, 2020, I started a year-long no-buy challenge. My first rule was that I’d only spend money on essentials, like food and bills. The second rule was that I could replace any beauty and fashion items that I’d run out of—with some exceptions, like nail polish and face masks. My third rule was that, even when I needed to replace something essential, I had to wait five days to buy it.

The first few weeks of the no-buy felt okay, because I was super-motivated by my desire to change. But soon, I felt like I was dragging myself through the mud to stick with it. I started looking for loopholes. At one point, I needed some books for grad school, so I immediately went to Indigo and bought them because they qualified as essential. If I had been following the spirit of the no-buy, I would have explored other options first, like finding the books at the library. I also allowed myself to “buy” non-essentials with President’s Choice points, which was a slippery slope. 

Soon, it became obvious that my wants and needs were blurring together. I would run out of a skincare product and tell myself I had to buy a new one, even though I could have used any of the other skincare products I already owned. In April of 2020, stuck at home and stressed about all the unknowns caused by the pandemic, I lost control and bought a big box of clothes from Frank and Oak. As soon as it arrived, I knew I didn’t need any of it. I felt so much guilt and shame that I returned everything. During the rest of my no-buy year, I tried to justify purchases that fit in the grey area between my wants and my needs. I used PC points as a crutch, allowing myself to buy things I wanted without technically spending money.

My work wasn’t over when my no-buy year ended. I knew I had a shopping problem, but I didn’t yet know what the solution was. In 2021, I set a goal to develop a healthy relationship with money. I set a budget for the first time ever, which helped but didn’t fix things: I would spend all the money I allocated in each category, even on items I didn’t need. Then, that November, after an emotionally heavy period, I convinced myself I needed more clothes. I went on one of my most extensive shopping binges and spent thousands of dollars. By then, it was clear that I shopped to cope with stress. I ended up returning most of what I’d bought. 

I started the following year with another no-buy January, because I wanted to engage with the no-buy community online. I also began digging into the emotional component of my spending. From reading behavioural science literature, I learned that I rely on an avoidant coping style: I deal with my emotions by doing other unhealthy stuff. For me, that was shopping. I sat down and wrote out a list of healthy coping styles that didn’t involve shopping, like watching my favourite episodes of The Office, doing Sudoku, going for a walk or reading a book. Still, I had to figure out how to feel uncomfortable emotions instead of distracting myself from them. I’d lie on my bed and try to get used to thinking about them, and I journaled to understand my feelings. 

I’ve also created systems that help me shop less. I established a skincare routine with four steps maximum, which works so well that I rarely need to explore new skincare products. I’ve also found staple, specific everyday products that work for my life and my budget, so that I’m not constantly searching for new products and can focus on what I actually use. For example, I only need one eyebrow gel, but I might need two or three foundations to ensure I always have a good shade match. In 2023 I spent around $200 on new makeup, just to replace what I’d run out of. This year, I’ve spent about $150 so far, which is not bad considering I used to spend over a thousand dollars a year. 

I enjoy doing no-buy challenges now, so I’ve kept up with a no-buy month every January. During these no-buy months, I like to focus on things that aren’t shopping. One year, I spent a lot of time deep cleaning my apartment. During another, I created 10-by-10 capsule wardrobes, which meant that I’d pick a set of 10 clothing items to wear for 10 days. 

Now, I use no-buy challenges to make my consumption even healthier. I want to break up with fast fashion, so this April I started a no new clothes challenge, which will last until the end of the year. I’d seen a statistic somewhere that people buy 60 new items of clothes a year on average. I wanted to see if I could buy only 30 pieces of clothing in 2024, with a focus on buying second-hand or getting clothing items made more sustainably. Eventually, I hope my closet will go from being about 30 per cent to 70 per cent sustainably sourced. Before I started the challenge, I’d already brought in 24 new clothing items at the beginning of the year, meaning that I can only purchase six new pieces of clothing from April to December. 

Today, I have a healthy relationship with money. I’ve built up savings and set myself up for the future financially. I enjoy setting up mini challenges as focus projects for self-improvement. This month, I’ve chosen to focus on limiting my time online and spending more time doing offline activities like reading, painting and running. 

I still enjoy shopping and can have fun doing it more responsibly. Sometimes, I still go online and add items to a virtual cart, like I’m window shopping online. I don’t buy anything, though. When I catch myself doing that, I usually exit and switch to another activity—I know it’s a clear sign of stress.

—As told to Caroline Bellamy