On July 7, I came back to Busan after a week in the States, glad to see Ric again and ready to kick off our last year here in Korea.

If there’s one thing our first year here has taught us, it’s that our home in the States has too much stuff.  This might sound unusual coming from two people who currently have all their belongings divided between less than 100 square feet here in Korea and a small storage shed in the States, but it’s completely accurate.  Like most Americans, we have too much stuff.  

I am certainly more guilty than Ric, whose wandering spirit has imbued in him the natural urge to travel light.  I, on the other hand, put down roots.  I collect stuff–photos, books, programs, ticket stubs, keepsakes.  I stockpile things that I never actually get around to using–bath salts, fabric, craft supplies, things I swear I’ll find a use for one day.  

But my greatest sin involves my wardrobe.  I’m a complete girl in this respect.  New clothes excite me.  They perk up an otherwise blah week or an interminably long winter away from home.  Shopping has always been bonding time, particularly with my sisters, daughters, and my mom–the most important women in my life.  New clothes are a shot of instant confidence; they provide a little rush of happiness and glamour.  And I spent a lot of my twenties in a junkie-esque pursuit of said rush.  I bought with reckless abandon, particularly if something was on sale.  Instead of curating my closet and shopping methodically, I searched the aisles and racks for some magic bullet outfit that would make me into someone more amazing, not realizing that my awesomeness never really hinged on what was in my closet.

In Lenoir, I took up half our dresser space, 3/4 of our closet space, and still needed an extra small dresser for lingerie and shoes.  When I prepared to move to Korea, I donated or consigned box after box of clothes, shoes, and jewelry and STILL managed to fill my allotted two suitcases and an obscene about of space in our storage shed.  My attachment to fashion is a little ridiculous.

So I arrived back to Busan determined to free myself of this ridiculous penchant for amassing stuff.  Curbing my sartorial gusto is a key step in obtaining the kind of clutter-free existence I’ve always desired–not to mention the money it will save us in shopping trips. To check this impulse to fix everything with a trip to the mall,  I have decided that, for the remainder of my time in Korea, I WILL NOT BUY ANY CLOTHING.

I confess that this resolution is much more easily achieved here,where lots of clothing styles are made for smaller women and it can be tricky for me to find things that fit.  Shoes, for example, do not exist at all in my size and therefore will provide no temptation whatsoever.  However, I feel like starting small is better than no start at all.  

I am allowing myself two exceptions to this total shopping ban:

1)  I am allowed to buy something really stunning if the opportunity arises, if that something stunning is an item of clothing I can only find in Korea and could serve as a memory of our time here. 

2)  I am allowed to replace items that break or wear out if those items are essential things like jeans, socks, or underwear.  

I’m hoping this exercise will make me less acquisitive, teach me to better appreciate the things I have, and quite sensibly, make packing to go home a much easier task, since most of my clothes will be fit for Goodwill by this time next year.  

So far, I’m doing all right, but I’m only two weeks in and still wearing the new off the handful of things I brought back from the States.  We’ll see how I do when deprived of the ability to seek out retail therapy after a stressful day at work.