2017，我的不“購(gòu)”之年

By Victoria Richards

It was New Years Eve， 2016， half an hour before midnight， when I last bought myself something to wear. Like many parents of little kids， I wasnt out partying but ensconced1 in the living room at a friends house， dozy with drink， wondering how long I had to stay up before it was acceptable to go to bed. Rock and new-baby roll.

I took out my phone and opened Instagram. I saw a friend of a friend in a fantastic dress， and scrolled2 straight through to the comments. I was in luck. Shed mentioned the shop shed bought it from and linked through to the website. They had a sale on！ But... oh no. It ended on 31 December.

I felt a bolt of adrenaline， a sense of urgency flooding my fingers， quickening my breathing.3 Only 30 minutes left. I needed to act fast. I pushed myself out of my cosy chair to grab my purse from my bag， typed my card details into the tiny screen， rationalising4 the spend as “the last one of the year”. I hadnt been shopping for ages. Id been too busy caring for a newborn， spending my maternity pay on nappies.5 I didnt fit into any of my old clothes， and I deserved a dress like that... didnt I？ Purchase made， I concentrated on the countdown， ignoring a creeping sense of spenders guilt.6

不夠，是消費(fèi)的動(dòng)力。衣服不夠時(shí)尚，手機(jī)不夠新款，口紅不夠多，車子不夠酷……新年的鐘聲已經(jīng)敲響，新一年的買買買又將拉開帷幕。消費(fèi)主義盛行的今天，在關(guān)注衣櫥里還有什么衣服不夠的同時(shí)，我們似乎也該想想，自己的內(nèi)心有什么不夠，周遭的他人又有什么不夠。剛剛過去的2017年，對(duì)一些人來說是不夠的、剁手的一年，對(duì)本文作者而言，卻是不“購(gòu)”的一年。來看看她是怎么想的。

Ten... nine... eight... seven... we clinked glasses， and I tried to remain philosophical. That money belonged to last year. It was 2017， now. The slate7 had been wiped clean. But then someone asked about new years resolutions， and I thought of the people queueing up at food banks， the rise in homelessness—one in every 200 people in the UK， according to the charity Shelter.8 I thought of how lucky I was， how privileged； the luxury of looking after a tiny baby yet still being able to spend money on a whim9. I thought of how downright distasteful it is in the West， how inured weve become to advertisers urging us to spend， the arrogant ease of it.10 One click to “buy now”.

“I just spent ￡60 on a dress I didnt need，” I blurted out.11 It felt like a confession. “Im going to stop shopping，” I continued. “Im not going to buy anything for myself for a year.”

The others laughed. It was clear they didnt believe me. Theyd seen my wardrobes， filled to bursting with dresses， wigs and scarves； theyd heard me squeal with excitement， trawling through charity shops and jumble sales.12 Theyd browsed the rail Id moved into the loft， filled entirely with vintage dresses.13 I havent， historically， spent a lot on clothes—preferring “retro” and second-hand clothing to high end or high street.14 Id much rather fritter ￡12 on a musty-smelling skirt from the 1970s than ￡50 on a pair of socks from Selfridges， but nevertheless， I was drowning in “stuff”.15 And half of it Id probably never even get around to wearing. It felt grotesque16 to have so much when all around me people had so little. And did I really need it？ Did it make me happy？ After maternity leave I was going back to life as a freelance journalist. Could I even afford it？ When I couldnt answer a firm “yes” to any of those questions， I knew what I needed to do.

Fast-forward 12 months and Ive made it through the year... almost. It was hard at times， made harder with the incessant emails from Asos， eBay and Urban Outfitters， offering me 20 per cent off here， free delivery there.17 I hit delete， relegated them to my “spam” folder.18 I avoided Westfield， Brick Lane and Oxford Street.19 Black Friday felt like a relentless assault of consumerism—I received dozens of discounts and “special offers” a day， but got through it by hitting “block” and “unsubscribe”.20

I had slips21. As bridesmaid at my brothers wedding in March， I was to wear a silver halterneck all-in-one （quite the challenge， when youre breastfeeding）.22 I needed a strapless23 nursing bra， and I could only find one online. And on a particularly tough November day， I spent ￡15 on a flamingo-print24 dress to cheer myself up， but felt so guilty when the package arrived that I sent it back， unopened. I even filled an online basket full of clothes at H&M;， then closed the browser before I could press “checkout”.

Its been tough， but its been refreshing， and it has always felt right. The decision to stop shopping helped me channel the money I would once have spent on clothes to worthier causes. Ive given more to charity and focused more seriously on my career， swapping the thrill of getting post for the excitement of pressing “send” on a ￡5 writing contest or competition entry.25 Ive written more in 2017 than ever before， and Ive even won some awards.

Im not the only one making the decision to cut down on spending—Ann Patchett26 wrote recently in The New York Times about her year of no shopping， saying， “If you stop thinking about what you might want， its a whole lot easier to see what other people dont have.”

I have plenty to wear in 2018. And now that my year of no shopping is drawing to a close， rather than being giddy with pre-spending glee， Ive made a list of the things I “need”： new jeans （my surviving pair are littered with holes）， trainers （the lining has ripped away）， underwear.27 For what 2017 has taught me， more than anything else， is that what I really want isnt dresses and shoes， but to spend time with my kids and to keep on writing. And I can do both of those for free.

1. ensconce： 安坐。

2. scroll：（在屏幕上）上下滾動(dòng)。

3. 我感覺我的腎上腺素激增，緊迫感充溢著我的指尖，讓我呼吸加快。a bolt of：一道，一束；adrenaline：

腎上腺素。

4. rationalise： 作辯解，找借口。

5. maternity pay： 產(chǎn)假津貼，后文maternity leave指休產(chǎn)假；nappy： 尿布。

6. 購(gòu)買完成后，我專注于新年倒數(shù)，忽略掉慢慢襲來的花錢的罪惡感。

7. slate： 書寫用的石板。wipe the slate clean意為把以往的錯(cuò)誤一筆勾銷。

8. 然后有人問起新年下的決心，我想到在食物銀行排隊(duì)的人和越來越多無家可歸的人——根據(jù)慈善組織“庇護(hù)所”的數(shù)據(jù)，英國(guó)每?jī)砂偃酥芯陀幸蝗藷o家可歸。food bank： 食物銀行，為窮人或無家可歸者提供食物的慈善組織。

9. on a whim： 心血來潮。

10. 我想到了在西方，我們對(duì)于廣告商極力慫恿我們花錢是多么習(xí)以為常，而這種傲慢的安逸又是多么令人反感。downright：極度地；distasteful： 令人不快的，令人厭惡的；inured： 習(xí)慣了的，適應(yīng)了的。

11. blurt out： 脫口而出。

12. 他們見過我的衣柜里裙子、假發(fā)、圍巾塞得裝不下，聽過我逛慈善商店和舊物義賣時(shí)興奮的尖叫。wig： 假發(fā)；squeal： 尖叫；trawl： 搜羅；jumble sale： 舊物義賣，舊雜貨的廉價(jià)拍賣。

13. 他們見過我搬進(jìn)閣樓的掛衣桿，上面掛滿了復(fù)古連衣裙。rail：（掛東西用的）橫桿；loft： 閣樓；vintage： 復(fù)古的。

14. retro： 再度流行的早年流行服裝款式，主要指20世紀(jì)60年代之后的服裝；high street： 高街服飾，英國(guó)主要商業(yè)街的商店仿造T型臺(tái)時(shí)尚，把秀上展示的時(shí)裝迅速制作為成品銷售。

15. 我更愿意揮霍12英鎊買一條發(fā)霉的20世紀(jì)70年代的裙子，也不愿意花50英鎊在塞爾弗里奇百貨公司買一雙襪子，但即便如此，我買的東西還是多得能把我淹沒。fritter： 揮霍，浪費(fèi)；mustysmelling： 發(fā)霉的，散發(fā)著霉臭味的；Selfridges：塞爾弗里奇百貨，英國(guó)一家奢侈品百貨公司，匯聚了數(shù)量眾多的大眾流行品牌及設(shè)計(jì)師專柜。

16. grotesque： 怪誕的，荒誕不經(jīng)的。

17. 有時(shí)很困難，特別是當(dāng)Asos、易貝、城市旅行者的郵件接踵而至，這兒給我打八折，那兒給我免郵費(fèi)。incessant： 持續(xù)不斷的；Asos： 創(chuàng)立于英國(guó)倫敦，是全球性的時(shí)尚服飾及美妝產(chǎn)品線上零售商；eBay： 易貝，線上拍賣及購(gòu)物網(wǎng)站；Urban Outfitters： 城市旅行者，美國(guó)平價(jià)服飾品牌。

18. relegate： 歸入；spam： 垃圾郵件。

19. Westfield： 韋斯特菲爾德倫敦購(gòu)物中心，是英國(guó)乃至歐洲最大的購(gòu)物中心，云集了300多個(gè)高街服飾以及時(shí)尚奢侈品牌；Brick Lane： 紅磚巷，倫敦東區(qū)商業(yè)街，是英國(guó)復(fù)古店鋪集中地；Oxford Street： 牛津街，倫敦西區(qū)商業(yè)街，云集了超過300家品牌店鋪。

20. 黑色星期五簡(jiǎn)直就是消費(fèi)主義的不懈侵?jǐn)_——我每天都會(huì)收到數(shù)十封折扣和特價(jià)優(yōu)惠郵件，但都按下“屏蔽”和“取消訂閱”熬過來了。Black Friday： 黑色星期五，圣誕大采購(gòu)開始之日，在這一天，商場(chǎng)都會(huì)推出大量打折和優(yōu)惠活動(dòng)，以在年底進(jìn)行最后一次大規(guī)模的促銷；unsubscribe： 取消訂閱。

21. slip： 疏漏，差錯(cuò)。

22. halterneck： 露背的；all-in-one： （胸罩和束腰相連的）女式緊身衣；breastfeeding： 母乳喂養(yǎng)。

23. strapless： 無肩帶的，抹胸的。

24. flamingo-print： 印著火烈鳥的。

25. 我捐獻(xiàn)了更多善款，也更專注于我的事業(yè)。我不再因收取快遞而欣喜若狂，我的興奮點(diǎn)換成了花費(fèi)5英鎊參加寫作比賽。swap：交換。

26. Ann Patchett： 安·帕契特（1963— ），美國(guó)當(dāng)代小說家。

27. 我的不購(gòu)之年已近尾聲，為了不被購(gòu)物前的興奮沖昏頭腦，我把自己真正“需要”的東西列了出來：新牛仔褲（我現(xiàn)在那條已經(jīng)滿是破洞了），運(yùn)動(dòng)鞋（襯里都磨穿了），以及內(nèi)衣物。glee： 歡樂，歡欣；trainer： 運(yùn)動(dòng)鞋；lining： 襯里。