Musings on a Military Jacket

[Jacket: Madewell // Shirt: Ann Taylor, thrifted // Skirt: "vintage" Old Navy
Boots: Civico 10 Sportster (no longer available) // Necklace: The Monica, K.O. Designs]

When I really like something unnecessary, I stalk it for months waiting for a sale. By the time I finally purchase it, my friends are so tired of hearing about it that they probably want to throw a party. A few times they've even bought it for me to bring the agonizing to an end!

Toward the end of last winter, I started to wish for a lighter jacket that wasn't a trench. I was tired of the belts and buckles and added bulk. Happily, the military jacket trend is right up my alley - I wore my dad's olive green Coast Guard coat for most of college. It was big on me then, but now I practically look like the kid from A Christmas Story in it, so I can't start wearing it again. When I saw this Madewell military jacket online, it was instant love. But it cost more than I've ever spent on one item of clothing. For the last six weeks I've searched for something comparable at a more reasonable price. I hit T.J. Maxx, Ross, and all my usual online haunts. Friends sent me links from fashion blogs. Nothing else came close to the perfection of this jacket. Every detail was exactly what I wanted.

I was off on Monday for my friends' visit. So after they left, I drove out to our only Madewell in Germantown to see the jacket in person, hoping that it wouldn't work for me and I could stop thinking about it. No such luck. When I put it on, it was like it was made for me. The salesgirl saw her easiest commission of the week in my face. I took the jacket home, and everyone rejoiced.

When I was growing up, all my clothes came from garage sales and bargain basements. On the rare occasion we bought something in a regular store, it was from the clearance rack. In high school I had a few cherished items from final markdown at the Gap. My mom did a great job within our limitations - once she found me a pristine Girbaud jean skirt, which was the height of cool in Memphis in the early 90s. But the message that clothes weren't a financial priority was deeply ingrained in me. I still get most of my clothes at thrift stores, by choice (I'm very selective and no one can tell the difference). I love a good deal as much as the next person. But I've been working for a long time now and can occasionally afford nice, new pieces. Yet I feel so guilty and irresponsible when I do. I'm trying to convince myself that it's not a sin to invest in quality sometimes, rather than going for the cheapest possible option every time. Does anyone else struggle with this?

Extreme Couponing

A couple of weeks ago, TLC aired a show called Extreme Couponing. I missed the first airing, but saw so many violent reactions to it from friends that I set aside time to watch a rerun of it the next day. It profiled several serious couponers - two young middle-class wives, an older woman, and a thirtysomething man. Each person was shown at home, talking about their couponing philosophies, and then on an actual grocery shopping trip.

While I was impressed by the hundreds of dollars saved at the register, my main reaction to the show was sadness. Most of the participants seemed completely, unhealthily consumed with couponing - it's not an exaggeration to say that they have made it their religion. One of the women was filmed passionately "witnessing" about couponing to neighbors, fellow shoppers, and random people she met on the street. One regularly took her young child dumpster diving for extra coupons. Another cheerfully admitted that she's sacrificed a healthy marriage and social life to keep up with her couponing, and her husband's resigned and frustrated reactions to it all were heartbreaking to me. Obviously, there are also serious hoarding elements; I think the man couponer said he had fifteen years' worth of food and toiletries in his stockpile room, which used to be a garage. (Maybe he's also a survivalist, but if so, he didn't mention it.) It also seemed like a few people were driven to a financial and physical hoarding mindset by past poverty or job loss, but I'm not a psychologist.

I started couponing fairly seriously about two years ago. I have a small stockpile cabinet and a well-organized coupon file. I know what these people mean when they describe the thrill of watching your total go down at the end of a shopping trip - I understand how it could be addictive. I think couponing is a great and relatively low-effort way to save money, and I'm glad it's available to us. But I don't believe in couponing just so I can haul home truckloads of free stuff I don't need and will probably never consume. (Waste is one of the things that bothers me most about extreme couponing. The man on the show said he frequently gives his extras to missions that his church supports, which is wonderful, but he was the only one.) I believe in rational couponing. No stockpiling for the apocalypse, no buying stuff I don't already use. I find coupons for my usual grocery items, via newspapers and circulars that are easily available, and I try to buy enough during a sale to last me until the next sale. That's it. It works for me.

In conclusion, I hope I never watch another show that includes the voiceover line, "Two hours into her checkout..."

Edited to add: The popular couponing site Southern Savers has a great response to the show.

Death and Taxes

Today was tax-free day at Memphis's Whole Foods, in honor of Tax Day. I usually have a Bible study (Beth Moore's Daniel) on Thursdays at lunchtime, but sometimes it gets canceled, and such was the case today. So I hopped over for a shopping spree of healthy goods that can't be found at Kroger. My most exciting find was a jar of almond butter, which I've heard is amazing. I'd expected to find more low-calorie foods (especially snack foods) at a health food store, but they were in short supply. I've been thinking about the implications of that all afternoon. Are non-vegetable 100-calorie snacks only possible with chemicals and fakeness? :P

In other tax news, I was a total cliche this year. We always have someone do our taxes, early, because we have a lot of work-related deductions and zero math skills. I mailed our forms (and depressing check that could have purchased a new oven) weeks ago. Then I realized I forgot to include the interest form for our savings account. I consulted the tax guy, who told me I would have to file an amendment even though it was a small amount. So last night, almost literally at the eleventh hour, I was *headdesk*ing in front of our home computer trying to complete an amendment form on my own. But somehow I finished it, and mailed it off today along with yet another check. If anything is incorrect, at least they know I tried.