Wanting What You Have

specifically, in the context of your closet.

Dear Reader,

Today, I saw an ad for an outfit. A very simple outfit. White denim, white tee. That’s it. Despite its simplicity, it’s a monochrome look that will always appeal to me. Easy, yet chic. A go-to, so to speak.

In fact, I gravitate towards this combination so often that I own several iterations of the garments—i.e., white tees and white pants.

Although I already own so many, I still desired another pair of white pants and another white tee when I saw this ad. I wanted those specific white pants, and that specific white tee.

Despite my desire, I held back. I didn’t buy.

Instead, I walked into my closet, and looked at all my white pants and white tees I already own. Then, I recreated the simple look.

I want what I have, I thought.

Wanting is Hardwired—Which Isn’t Bad.

In some sense, I think “wanting” is hardwired into our genetic code. Call it a survival tactic.

Our ancestors wanted food, so they gathered and hunted. They wanted safety, so they built shelter. They wanted connection within tribes, to procreate, to survive together.

If they didn’t want anything, they wouldn’t have lasted.

Desire keeps us moving forward. It’s what pushes us to learn, create, explore, and improve. It’s why we set goals, fall in love, chase dreams, and build lives that are bigger than mere existence.

So wanting is great. We want to want. Sometimes, at least.

Other Times, Wanting Isn’t So Great.

Desire, in dark form, looks like "more, more, more"—always chasing the next thing, never feeling satisfied.

As an “influencer” (still don’t love that word), I am gifted things daily. More, more, more is my reality. Some weeks, the amount of boxes that compile on our doorstep can be a bit overwhelming.

Put simply, it’s over-excess. In our laundry room, I have a donation pile of unopened “things” to give away. I often give things to my family and friends. Hell, sometimes, I even give things to people I barely know (ironically, I think that’s my favorite part of getting stuff: giving it away).

I crave purges. The overabundance is intolerable, at times.

Yet, I still want more. Isn’t that strange?

I still want the white tee and white pants (funny enough, I was gifted white pants and a white tee last week — that’s how ridiculous I am).

I’m sure you can relate; it’s human nature. To want, even when you have it all. Then to get rid of things you once wanted.

Being honest, this phenomena feels even more distorted as someone who receives new stuff regularly.

Unsustainable Streams of Newness.

As mentioned, I am gifted things as a content creator.

It’s part of the gig. And it’s a fun gig. I’ve had the privilege to try a lot of cool, unnecessary things over the years.

Truthfully, it still feels weird to me though—to be in a constant stream of newness and consumption.

It’s not natural to constantly consume.

However, the online world may convince you otherwise. Your favorite influencer? She was gifted (or loaned) either a portion or the entire outfit she wore today. The one she wore yesterday, too. And the one she wears tomorrow, likely.

Although it’s fun to do this work, I fear it can be somewhat deceptive as well.

Even if it’s subconscious, we portray a lifestyle in which constant consumption is easy, natural, sustainable.

Let me be real: constant consumption isn’t easy, natural, or sustainable. Nor should it be.

Take it into context. Influencers are connected to brands in order to share their “new” drops. This is important for both the brand and the creator. Links must remain hot, fresh, and ready to click. Otherwise, how would the brand earn a dollar? How would the influencer earn commission?

Last season’s jacket isn’t online; therefore, last season’s jacket isn’t commissionable.

Perhaps I’m speaking to fellow content creators—but I think it applies to everyone—that there are ways to hack this system of linking/wanting newness.

I’m finding some for myself, at least.

Personal Hacks to Not Always Need New.

As time goes on, I continue to find my own little hacks so that I don’t continue to drown in an excess of want and newness.

When I do buy, I aim to only invest in things that I know (1) have remained and (2) will remain on the market for years to come.

My Row Margaux, Toteme trenches, Khaite sandals — these labels and styles have been around for years, and likely, won’t go away.

These are good purchases. Ones I continue to wear, condone, and link. Lasting styles that hold longevity within your closet feel like healthy forms of consumption to me.

Another hack I see within my community: those who link styles on the market that feel similar to what they’re wearing, even if it’s not the exact same piece.

This is smart.

Maybe the influencer has a pair of designer pants on, so they link an inexpensive dupe.

Or maybe their pants are affordable but sold out quickly, so they link a similar alternative.

Or maybe they’re part of The Real Real club, and they link all the second-hand goodies one may have never considered but oh-my-gosh-what-a-bargain.

Although the incentive stays the same—to share links, to sell something—I think the ethos feels a bit different. It signals an idea.

An idea that goods can be held onto, worn-in, and loved. An idea that maybe, just maybe, I can replicate or recreate without buying new. An idea that just because I can buy it, that doesn’t mean I should buy it.

A Philosophical Predicament: The Can Versus Should

This all leads me to the philosophical predicament. The question of just because I can get it, does that mean I should get it?

For example, I could afford the gorgeous white pants and white tee I desired this morning. Does that mean I should buy them?

Even better, I could accept each gifting offer from every brand that contacts me. Does that mean I should accept them? It’s free, after all.

After reflecting, maybe I conclude the answer is yes. Maybe I conclude it is no. There isn’t a “wrong” answer, objectively. Only you know your tolerance for more.

Lately, though, I find myself saying “no thanks” more than ever before.

There’s a High That Comes From Less.

This morning, when I chose to not buy, I experienced a little high.

Follow me here.

Being mindful—you know, the act of pausing, reflecting, and refraining to purchase—is sometimes a better high than the dopamine hit that comes from the product purchased.

It’s like I’m “above” the desire, or something.

Like I’ve stepped outside my humanness, connected to higher awareness, and saw my desires from a bird’s eye view. It’s kind of awesome.

To my fellow influencer friends—this same principal can be practiced in the realm of gifting. Try saying “no” when a brand or product less than excites you. Feels great.

Then, go into your closets and drawers. Get rid of all the “things” you’ve accumulated in your life. You’ll feel lighter. Less attached. Above it all.

Ironically, I just talked to a friend who lost her home in the Palisades fires. She told me she’s had greater understanding of how little things actually meant to her.

That less is more, as cliche as it sounds.

Wanting What I Have

Ultimately, here’s the idea I’m trying to get across: to pause when want kicks in.

As a content creator, it’s important to me that I share and inspire in ways that feel intentional, rather than a form of gross overconsumption.

It starts with me.

I cannot communicate this ethos effectively if I don’t practice it myself.

More than ever, I actively train my mind to want what I have before I start searching for more newness. At very least, I aim to be more mindful and understand my wants.

And I urge you to do the same.

How am I training my mind to do this? A few ways:

1. Shop My Closet.

   When I see a look/item I like online, I enter my closet. Likely, I own something similar and can re-create the look I loved online.

2. Revive My Favorite Pieces.

   Recently, I took all my button-up shirts to the dry cleaner. Now, they literally look brand new. If pieces in your closet feel dingy, try to steam, dry-clean, or even tailor them. Give them new life.

3. Remove Before I Replace.

   Should I really want a new piece on the market, I make it a condition that I must sell an existing piece before I replace it with something new. If budget is a concern for you, make a rule that you must sell and earn a fraction of what you want to buy. Although this is consuming, it’s with more intention.

4. Understand the Root of My Desire.

   In other words, become more aware of your wants. Ask yourself questions.

   Is my desire serving me? Does my “want” make sense in the context of my life? Is my desire pushing me towards progress? What is the larger context of my desire? Is it part of a collection? A life story? Is it pushing me towards improvement, or is it pulling me back?

Here’s to wanting what we have, understanding our desires, and buying with more intention.

xx Megan