Buy and Hold: "Shopping is Impossible"
"Shopping is Impossible", an August 2026 Harper's article by Rachel Sugar, discusses a situation I have noticed for at least a decade: the unsatisfying experience of shopping, especially for clothing and accessories. Too often it feels like eating a cheap chocolate bar: initially inviting, then rapidly distasteful.
Sugar notes the usual suspects: almost infinite choice leading to decision fatigue; sameness in the selections; price increases that outstrip inflation. She mints a useful term for special ring of hell, what she calls "a little bit shopping":
"Shopping is visiting a store or website on purpose, examining the wares, and either buying or not buying them. A little bit shopping is the constant thrum of consumer opportunities that lead mostly to more consumer opportunities. It is looking at a pair of shoes, which leads to looking at another pair of shoes, and another, and then you’re $15 short of the minimum for free shipping and is there anything else you need?"
Over the summer, I unsubscribed from promotional e-mails and immediately felt their sticky grip dissolve. The break led to noticing how the act of shopping has changed as I've aged.
Sixty years ago, at this time of year I'd go shopping on a Saturday afternoon with a a few other girls. We would ogle the new arrivals and assess what we could sew with minimal effort (tube skirts, popover tops), and what was worth our summer-job savings.
There were no flash sales or BOGO deals, and a markdown on a September skirt was five months away. Compared to the vast assortment now online, the selection then seems paltry, yet we were dazzled. I'm not saying this was the good old days—anyone needing special sizing had limited choices, and in my small university city, if something was sold out in your size, you were out of luck. But it was fun!
And here we are all these years later, in the sartorial equivalent of the old Springsteen song, "57 Channels and Nothin' On".
What to do about this? It's a two-step.
1. Stick to your blue-chip vendors
From our fantasy advisor, Mr. Warren Buffet, we learned to buy blue-chip stocks and hold. If you know a certain white tee shirt fits perfectly, be it James Pearse or Stanfield's, restock as needed and free yourself from squinting at other versions just because someone on Instagram touts "The Fifteen Most Unique White Tees". (Yes, 'most unique'.)
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| Photo: Stnafield's |
The corollary: Underperforming stocks get dumped. If synthetics have crept in at a company once known for only pure fibres, maybe it's time to dump your stock. Pendleton, the renowned American maker of quality woollens, makes a handsome Donegal sweater that turns out to be 20% nylon.
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| Flecks of shame |
Twenty percent nylon does add strength; however, my Oregonian family wore their pure-wool Pendletons to thirty seasons of Ducks games with hardly any sign of wear. Pendleton still produce Oregon-milled woollen fabric for blankets and soft furnishings. Now, they say the yarns for their sweaters are "produced internationally".
2. Note what you need, and because adornment should also be a pleasure, what raises your heartbeat. Ignore ads for anything else.
If you are interested in design or fabrication, look beyond your preferred sources; that will make you a cannier buyer. Example: I return periodically to worship this wool, silk and cashmere Agra jacket by Massimo Alba, which I am never going to buy (the price is $CAN 1, 700) but it reminds me of how a plaid should be handled.
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| Photo: Massimo Alba |
Even if focused, we still have the task of finding clothing that combines practicality and pleasure. Yes, it's work, but it always was work. The difference was that in the past, the stores mitigated effort: Drop by for our free fashion show and tea; we'll call Alterations and shorten that skirt in a flash.
Over the summer, I realized that over the past dozen years, I had stepped away from the last vestiges of that world, and had sacrificed contact for convenience. When Lou asked, "Would you like to come with me to shop for perfume and shoes?", I accompanied her on a Tuesday afternoon to the luxury store Holt Renfrew Ogilvy.
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| Photo: Holt Renfrew Ogilvy, Montréal |
I had almost forgotten the pleasure of polished wood, flattering lighting and the carefully-calibrated camaraderie of a knowledgeable sales associate. I realized that for years, practically the only person handing me a bag has been a Fed Ex guy.
I bought nothing, but the sales associate gave us fistfuls of samples. Lou chose a bottle of Jo Malone Wild Bluebell cologne, and we enjoyed tea and madeleines in the sleek café. It was calm and (a term I rarely apply) nice.
That effect came with a hefty price tag; buried in the price is the Ladies' Lounge the size of a studio apartment and the artful floral arrangements. In other words, Quince is here for a reason.
And yet, I felt much less like a data point, more like a human. I sensed it viscerally, a thrum of interest, a heightened perception. However, Mr. Buffett warns against emotion as an investment criterion so asks, "Are their products easily replicated elsewhere?"
Report from the trenches
At Holt Renfrew, I paused before an immaculate Burberry cropped trench, I thought, Isn't this the same style that I'm seeing everywhere?
Left: Burberry cotton-blend trench; price, $CAN 2, 450. This is a poly/cotton blend, and Burberry label it "Speciality dry clean only" because of the leather buckles and horn buttons. But hey, if you pay that much I suppose dry cleaning is not an expense you think about.
Centre: Soia & Kyo Becky short trench, made entirely of poly, and not washable! Price, $CAN 435.
Left: Zara cotton/poly short belted trench, price, $CAN 135. Surprise, this is the only washable one, and the coat with by far the highest cotton content, 66%!
And, I could have shown at least six other brands' version of this trendy piece. Here, in November's slanting rain, it may garner compliments but you'd also get sodden thighs.
I'm not sure shopping is, as Sugar says, impossible, but I now see that, in embracing the ease and infinite choice of online shopping, I may have underrated not only the aesthetic contribution but the discernment fluency: the accrued knowledge from feeling fabric and assessing the quality before buying.
What do you like, what do you miss, and do you agree that shopping is "impossible"?
Comments
I have given up on Burberry altogether now: I had several, worn frequently over a few decades, and was always a fan. But the last one I bought began to wear over the sleeve ends, pockets and front edges far too soon. The quality of the leather buckles had diminished, too, and they felt thin and dry compared to how they used to be. The price tag is now, frankly, absurd for the quality you get. I have just bought a full length Jaeger trench coat for a very reasonable price, which is a good-looking item for a very fair price and will probably look nice for a few years.
My sister and I were musing on how few clothes we had when we were young, and how many clothes and accessories young people seem to require nowadays. We concluded that this must be why standards of manufacture have gone down so much. There seems to be less inclination for people to get clothes altered or otherwise 'refreshed', too. Which reminds me that I need to take a jacket to our nearby tailoress to have the sleeves altered...
I had a quick day trip to Paris last weekend and intended to do a bit of shopping, since that is what is expected in Paris. But, by the time we had finished our gorgeous lunch, all we wanted to do was to stroll through beautiful gardens in the sunshine. We bought (ruinously expensive, but fabulous) chocolates with hand-picked centres from a traditional chocolatier, but that was it in terms of shopping. How times have changed!
So climate change sadness, but also missing the sense that something new, hopeful and exciting was going to start with the return of school friends and rituals, since I am retired from those seasons and friends.
I feel tired and though I've never believed my rose colored glasses, I seem to be missing the magic of illusions. No new outfit and a crisp afternoon are going to distract me from the sameness that is both climate change and retirement or the madness of our discourse. Although I am well, fortunate, and grateful for many things, that sad nostalgia came out of the 100
degree blue sky and catch me by surprise
After frequently having to take off the garment before I perish of discomfort, I have learnt to be satisfied with the few items that serve me well. Coincidentally they seem constructed to last.
Maybe, even as we mourn the beautiful things we'll never recover, we can use this time of instability and loss to turn our culture in a better direction. It's happened before. There are millions of us longing to use our resources and our energy to create a better future--something new, and hopeful, and exciting.