Got Blog? Yes, Some People Still Read Blogs

It’s a weird old world we’re living in these days, especially online where traditional forms of media are falling behind in favour of social media, and the news sites that still exist care more about clicks and views than producing interesting content.

I realized recently that much of what I read on an average day is often a rehash of another story or article from a different site, likely posted a couple of days before. And even then, a lot of what I’m coming across (aside from local, breaking news) is just variations on the same theme. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of truly original content out there.

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No Talking

There’s a popular philosophy that silence can equal strength. Saying nothing often says more than any words. But what about when you’ve been silenced involuntarily?

Like many people this month, I’ve found myself flattened by a cold. This is not rare or unusual except that at the exact same time the virus hit me, I experienced an allergic reaction to the massive amounts of Christmas tree debris that some of my neighbours left strewn about the elevators and hallways of our building as they took their dead trees to the garbage. Even though building staff seemed to be vacuuming continuously, we were finding needles in the rugs in our (tree-free) apartment.

I’m allergic to evergreens but the worst I usually get is itchy ears in the spring when the conifers pollinate. So when I woke one night unable to breathe, my throat swollen near closed from inflammation and likely a bit of anaphylaxis plus the typical cold-related mucus gluing it all together, I was terrified and really shaken.

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The Girls

This took place a few years ago, but continues to plague me in an odd, unresolvable way…

The scene: I’m in the disabled washroom at a live performance space called the Theatre Centre because my herniated discs occasionally make it incredibly painful to go up and down the stairs to the regular washrooms and the elevator must be run by a staff member. The disabled washroom is accessed through a storage area off the lobby and the door has one of those open slatted sections on the lower half, either for ventilation or communication in emergencies or both.

While I’m in there I hear people enter the storage room. It sounds like they’re gathering some extra chairs. There are two female voices and what sounds like an older man. There was an older man working the door as a volunteer when I came in so I assume it’s the same guy.

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Ramalamamammogram

“So you just turned 40, I want you to go have a mammogram,” says my doctor at my annual physical just after my 40th birthday.

“That’s not necessary is it?” I scrunch up my face.

“What, it doesn’t hurt, don’t be a wimp,” she replies.

“Oh, you’ve had one?”

“Well, nooo…”

Fucking doctors. Who’s with me on the idea that every general practitioner should, during their medical training, have to experience every test they could potentially send a patient for? Not the actual mammogram with the scan, but everything up to that point, including the boob sandwich (male doctors too), as well as a colonoscopy, and a partial toenail removal.

“So how do you know it doesn’t hurt?”

She sighs. “I don’t, but you have a family history of breast cancer from your grandmother, so let’s be safe.”

I can’t honestly remember now if my grandmother had breast cancer or not. I think she did, but she had so many other cancers, along with pneumonia, diabetes, and tuberculosis at one point, that, sure, better to be safe than sorry. And it can’t be that bad, right?

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How to Go to Concerts When You’re Middle-Aged

Let’s face it, middle-aged folks don’t go to many concerts. We’re busy doing other stuff. Or we can’t afford it. Bands we like, that are still around with some semblance of the original line-up, are pretty rare. Mostly we take a pass more often than not. Bands also tend to go on stage well past our bedtime.

I am mostly fortunate to not fall into those parameters (except maybe for the late set times and early bed times, those kill me) and probably go to more concerts than the average 50-year-old. I’m lucky enough to live in a major city, and have a household income that allows for such extravagances. I spent part of my twenties and thirties as a concert promoter and ran a small record label for a few years, so those connections still come up occasionally to lure me out to see bands, in addition to checking out bands from my youth that I missed back in the day because I grew up in a city that few bands bothered to travel to.

The concert-going experience has changed a great deal, though, and it’s important to keep that in mind if your most favouritest band from when you were twenty reforms and comes to town. Especially if every concert you’ve seen in the last decade has involved children dressed as angels or shepherds. It’s not 1987 anymore, people.

Some tips for your middle-aged GenX concert experience…

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Grey Hair, Don’t Care

I got my first grey hair at seventeen. After screeching in horror and pulling it out, I found two more the following week. At that point I began surreptitiously colouring my hair with a black semi-permanent rinse. I was late to the hair colouring game in the 1980s, mostly living with mousy brown hair (and the occasional sneaky rinse because my father disapproved of hair colour) until I moved to Toronto a year or two later.

In the interim, I had a variety of silly mid-80s haircuts with long bangs that hung in my eyes, leaving greasy marks on my glasses (think Dale Martindale from Images in Vogue). These ranged from a brush cut to a diagonal shaved line across the back of my head with floppy asymmetrical bangs on one side. I worked in a hospital at the time and many of the older patients who had been flappers back in the day would chase after me to pat the teddy bear fuzz on my neck and reminisce about their own bobbed hair in the 1920s.

When I moved to Toronto, the first thing I did was dye my hair a bright cherry red. It’s been some version of that shade for thirty years with a few digressions into black, black cherry, and bleached white, which I maintained for one the summer until it started falling out in big chunks.

At one point shortly before I turned forty, I tried to let my grey hair grow out, hoping there was enough grey to have actual grey hair and not just that dishwater colour that brown-haired folks suffer through as they go grey. It was about 50/50 grey to brown at that point and I got to about two inches of growth before it was clear that the grey and mousy brown together made my hair look like it was the colour of one of those horrible beige trench coats most often worn by flashers. To quote the artist Sue Kreitzman, “Don’t wear beige, it might kill you.” When I dyed it back to red, friends remarked on how washed out the grey/beige combo had made me look. When I asked why they hadn’t said anything their reply was, “We thought you liked it and didn’t want to insult you.” I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Over time, as those sneaky grey hairs multiplied, it was harder and harder to keep the red red. I tried different brands of hair colour, I diligently slathered a toxic neon red tinted conditioner on my head twice a week (which would dribble down my neck when I got sweaty, and which I left on pillowcases at massage and physiotherapy clinics across the city), but nothing worked.

The back especially would turn a weird orange colour within a week. The hair was too lacking in melanin to actually hold the colour. The hair around my face was fine, for some reason, and immediately after an application of colour I would have hair that was two distinctly different shades of red.

I went back to black cherry and even full-on purple shades, figuring that the darker colours might take better. (That came with a bottle of freakishly bright purple tinted conditioner that left purple streaks on pillowcases.) Fuck you, I said to my head one morning, Imma fix your little red wagon, and good. And so I dyed my hair black.

Good, nice; a sleek, classic, little black bob. Because while I’ve explained my lifetime of hair colour, I’ve clearly neglected to mention that my hair is straight. Poker straight. After a childhood of painful rollers, stinking perms, and singeing curling irons to create some semblance waves and ringlets, as an adult, I figured that the best thing to do was also the easiest, and just let it be straight. With a few exceptions, such as a darling pixie cut that required way more product and effort than short hair really deserves, I’ve worn a classic 1920s-style bob for almost three decades.

After I dyed it black and was happy with it being black, the hair on the back of my head faded out to an orangey-brown colour that was everything that was sad about the 1970s.

“You know,” I said one afternoon to my husband Greg, “the front is holding the colour and I really like the black against my face. I should just shave it into a Chelsea cut. You know, to let the grey grow out.”

Without batting an eye, Greg said, “I’ll get the clippers.”

Yes, readers, I trust my husband enough to let him shave my head. He shaves his own head, and he cuts the back part of my bobbed hair each month and does a fantastic job. So I combed and pinned the front bangs and long, straight pieces and he shaved off the rest.

Dudes, chill, it grew back.

Now, despite my various experiments with asymmetrical haircuts in the 80s, the Chelsea cut, typically worn by female skinheads, was a style that I had always wanted but never had the nerve to do. If I had come home with my head almost entirely shaved, my parents would have kicked me out. Besides which, I was never really into the hardcore scene and wearing that style would have marked me as part of a specific tribe that I wasn’t actually involved in.

But at 49, well after the style no longer had political implications? It would certainly be more fun that growing out my haircolour via that awful, ever-widening skunk stripe down the centre of my head that most people go through.

So Greg shaved it off and we gasped at how much hair was piled on the floor, then we rubbed my head repeatedly to feel the fuzz.

Reasons not to shave your head into a skinhead haircut:

1. No hat ever creates the same amount of warmth on your head as hair

2. There’s a lot of stuff about Nazis in the news and you wander around terrified that someone will attack you for being one (this didn’t happen, in fact, nobody seemed to get the connection, because it was in fact, Toronto in 2017, not Leeds in 1982)

3. For the first few weeks the hair is short enough that it pokes through the weave of the fabric of a pillowcase and you literally get stuck on your pillow and cannot turn your head

3. The grow-out is… interesting

So the goal really was to grow my hair back out into a full bob, keeping the black in the front, sort of a negative version of the lucky folks with black hair who get those lovely and distinguished white flashes along their hairlines. A reverse Lily Munster, if you will. With enough hairspray, the long black bits at the front can be back-combed to look like I have a giant spider on my head. Or the stripes of a badger. Super awesome bonus points.

As the shaved hair got longer — and it really was a spectacular shade of silver now, not completely white, but probably about 75% grey — it went through various phases. First the Bay City Rollers/artichoke heart phase where it just kind of stuck up all over. Then the Paul Weller phase, which happened in part because I had trimmed my bangs too short. After that there was a shaggy Clem Burke phase. These were interspersed with some awkward lengths that made me happy it was winter and I could hide under a hat.

Shortly after the original cut, someone sent me a message on Twitter to tell me that my dream job had opened up. After not having a Toronto restaurant critic for eighteen months, the Globe and Mail were adding this column back to their paper and were interviewing qualified applicants. Having spent the last ten years writing about food, and knowing that an opportunity to interview for what is, really, the top position in the food writing field in the country was rare, I sent in my resume and some samples and got an email to come in for an interview.

Because I was a conscientious food writer, there are few pictures of me on the Internet. I made a point of not having my photo taken if I could help it. The one or two that exist show me with bright red hair. So when the Globe editor came to reception that day to collect me, she did a double-take. I knew right there that I wouldn’t be getting the gig, but soldiered on through the interview anyway. We discussed how they didn’t really want an incognito critic anymore, that they really wanted a personality along the lines of UK restaurant critic Jay Rayner, who could do appearances if necessary, and that there wouldn’t be disguises or pseudonyms. But I knew that a conservative paper wouldn’t want a stripy-haired skinhead-looking broad representing their publication. Even if the hair would eventually grow back.

The paper eventually hired someone from outside Toronto who was not known to local chefs, and who had a fairly common appearance and name (there were more than 30 people on LinkedIn in Toronto with the same name when I Googled the guy), so it seems they changed their minds about wanting a “personality” for that column. But being able to say I walked into an interview at the country’s most conservative newspaper with a full-on skinhead haircut is a bit of compensation for not getting the gig, especially considering how very, very qualified I was for it.

Since the haircut and the grow out, I have a lot of people stopping me to comment on my hair. Cool folks, plain folks, and lots of women who are probably also going grey and are wondering if they could get away with something similar in their own hair. (The black stripes on grey might be a bit daring for some. The only other person I’ve seem with something close to my style is UK personality Phillippa Perry.)

While there is a cliched idea that older women become invisible as we age, the hair seems to be an opening for strangers to approach me and ask about it. A lot of them even want to touch it, which is weird, and many people seem to think I’ve dyed it grey. (This is even more attention than I got when my hair was red and people would chase me down the street asking about brand names.)

That’s right. I choose to let my grey grow out at exactly the same time that colouring your hair grey became trendy with the young people. “Wait, that’s real?” is a refrain I hear a lot these days, along with, “Oh my God, you don’t LOOK 50!” Uh huh.

It’s disconcerting to realize that people — especially young people — are envious of my grey hair, given how we tend to treat older women in our society. I suspect that if I hadn’t kept the black Chelsea bangs and side bits, I’d not get the same amount of attention, as it wouldn’t be nearly as striking. But I’m a firm believer in working with what you’ve got and if my black and grey hair is something to be admired, by young and old alike, especially if it encourages anyone to be unique and creative with their appearance, then it’s a truly positive thing.

Recently someone referred to my ‘do as “Badass” and I don’t think there’s a higher compliment to be had.

Middle of the Night Voice, or Why You Should Never Listen to Your Inner Voice

First, let’s be clear — your inner voice is an asshole.

Regardless of the time of day it may come to you, that nagging little voice that tells you that you’re too much or not enough; too fat, too ugly, too loud, too bossy, not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough… that voice is intended to fuck with your head. It is never ever there to help you, even though it will pretend to be.

Often the inner voice will come to you sounding like the actual voice of someone who has or does criticize you. Those voices are particularly difficult to free yourself from because they’re based on a relationship, usually toxic, and which you often feel is unfair or imbalanced or in which you’re not taken seriously. The inner voice’s job is to make you feel like crap about yourself, to doubt yourself, to question yourself to the point of failure.

Again, never forget, your inner voice is an asshole.

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Find Your Style — How to Look Fabulous While Avoiding the Fast Fashion Trap

I am bad for the economy. Despite really enjoying the artistry involved in fashion, I don’t buy a lot of clothing. And when I do, that garment has to meet a long list of qualifications before I hand over payment.

Much concern is generated with some regularity about how much clothing the average Westerner buys, how little we wear that clothing once we get it home, and how difficult it is to dispose of those garments once the closet gets too full and we want to make room for more new clothes.

Second-hand shops receive so many donations that garments often only get a week or so on the racks before they’re cycled out, baled up, and sent to countries in Africa where they’re sold for pennies and where they’re often not even wanted or needed. Fast fashion has made new clothing so cheap that people in countries that previously needed clothing donations now buy new items at rates that are inching up on the Western pace of consumption.

Services that allow people to borrow or rent clothing, wear the items a few times and then return them in order to try different pieces are becoming more popular, and definitely ensure that at least some items are worn a reasonable amount, but ultimately, these fast fashion items also end up in a landfill, as they will eventually fall apart or quickly go out of style.

Buying nothing, or at least, significantly less, is better for the environment, but not so much for the economy, which relies heavily on consumer spending. If we all stopped shopping it would result in lost jobs, from retail to transport to manufacturing. And let’s face it, we all need some clothes.

Here’s how I’ve streamlined my own wardrobe to make it more stylish, more environmentally-friendly, and more useful to me so that I actually wear the few items that I buy.

Style vs Fashion: Stop Following Trends

The first hurdle is the most difficult — stop following trends, unless they really work for you. While the fashion industry is based on the premise of convincing consumers that the next big trend is the one that will make our lives better, deep down, we all know this is never really true. As trendy items go out of style, sometimes in as little as a few weeks, followers of fashion need to move on to the next hot thing to stay satisfied.

Style, however, is a different beast. True style, the ability to know what cuts, colors, fabrics and yes, trends, work for you, and then avoiding mainstream fads to put together a wardrobe that is unique makes for a much more interesting persona. Moving away from finding comfort in homogeneity, that is, feeling confident because you’re NOT dressed just like everyone else, and discovering (and expressing) who you are by what you wear is a delightful process that signals a growing maturity and sense of self.

Once you reach the point where you’d be horrified to leave the house looking like anybody else, then you’re ready to create your own unique style, based on logic, comfort and self-expression.

Analyze Your Life, Determine Your Style

The hardest part of the process is determining your personal style, for this is influenced by so many things that are unique to you including culture, religion, body shape, musical preferences, and even, or especially, your local weather.

Keeping a style diary where you track every outfit you wear, for a month or more, will help determine the foundation of your clothing needs. Log each outfit, how physically comfortable it is, and how psychologically comfortable it is (IE. are you overdressed? Dressed inappropriately?).This will allow you to pinpoint the clothes you actually need versus the clothes you buy because of a whim, or the idea of the person you could be if only you had that perfect item in your wardrobe. There’s no point in buying ball gowns if you never go to balls, or vintage silk pajamas if you prefer to wear t-shirts to bed.

The style diary should show you where to concentrate your wardrobe updates. For instance, if you work from home and are happy in yoga pants and t-shirts, then you probably don’t need a large collection of office-appropriate suits and blouses. Note that your style will morph as you get older and experience life changes. Job shifts may require wardrobe updates. Having kids might mean that you can significantly pare down your collection of club wear. Buying a house may require that you have clothes appropriate for gardening, painting, or renovating, and no longer need quite so many dresses for a cute weekend brunch.

At the same time, start collecting images of clothing that you like (Pinterest is great for this) and sort into boards or folders that relate to your lifestyle activities. This will help you to pinpoint what styles you like, as well as what style will genuinely work for you, in order to know what to buy in the future when adding to your wardrobe.

Marie Kondon’t

Once you have an idea of the clothes you need, it’s time to get rid of the clothes that you don’t need. Despite the popularity of Marie Kondo’s “Spark Joy” philosophy, that doesn’t really work here. The key is to be ruthless. Get rid of anything that is permanently stained, torn and not repairable, or that doesn’t fit (in a favorable way) right now. Don’t keep a pile of “fat” clothes or “thin” clothes to accommodate future weight gain or loss unless you are literally pregnant.

Of the clothes that go back into you closet, each item must meet all of the following qualifications:

— fits you, right now

— does not need mending or altering (you can make a pile of things to be fixed, but do not return them to the closet until the items have been updated)

— works in at least one category of your style diary (IE. work clothes, around the house clothes, out for dinner)

— can be paired with at LEAST two other items in your wardrobe, ideally to make distinct outfits, unless this is gear specific for sports or similar activities

The clothes left in your closet, combined with your various Pinterest boards, should give you an idea of what you are drawn to in terms of style, color, and fit. In many cases we need clothing that we don’t necessarily love but which may be required for certain jobs or tasks. Look at each piece again and determine whether it’s a need or a love, and if the main part of your wardrobe is based on need (for instance, you are required to wear a conservative suit to work), think about ways you can love it more, perhaps with accessories or different colors or cuts.

The Capsule Wardrobe

Of the clothes that you’ve kept, you should have the foundation for a capsule wardrobe. This should be made up of items that will work together, ideally in a maximum of three colors, generally at least one neutral and one color that compliments your hair and complexion. Whether this is mostly pants or skirts, sweaters, jackets, shirts, or dresses will depend on your own preferences and needs.

From this point onward, buy nothing that doesn’t work with your existing capsule wardrobe. Everything you purchase must work with at least two existing items in your current wardrobe to make a complete outfit. For instance, when buying pants, can you pair them with two or more tops from your existing collection?

If you live somewhere with extreme annual weather changes, where summers are steaming hot and winters are well below freezing, then you will likely need two distinct seasonal wardrobes. Consider including items that can work across more than one season to extend your options, such as a lightweight cardigan than can be a layer in winter, but worn as outerwear in the warmer months.

Uniformity Not Homogeneity

Beyond the capsule wardrobe, many people find that a daily uniform makes their life simpler and less stressful. If you work in a job that requires an actual uniform or some semblance of specific items worn regularly, you already know that starting your day without having to figure out what to wear can be pretty awesome. The key here is to buy good quality items in bulk so that you can put on a clean version of your uniform each day. This makes for easy shopping, easy laundering, and allows you to concentrate your clothing budget on capsule wardrobe items for special occasions.

Don’t think that you can’t be stylish with a daily uniform, either. A friend who is a professor of fashion history at a university wears a uniform of black pants (she owns four pairs of the same style), a black turtleneck (shorter sleeves/necklines for summer) and some variation of a black and grey plaid jacket in different weights/fabrics for varying weather. She changes scarves, hats, and other accessories each day and her colleagues consider her the epitome of style.

Buy the Best You Can Afford

For many of us, money is a constraint, and we get more emotional reward from buying many cheaper items than we might in buying one piece of fantastic quality. However, well-made garments from quality fabrics last longer, saving money in the long run when you can make a winter coat last a decade (or two!) instead of replacing your coat every couple of years to stay on trend.

For this to work, you have to accept the idea of dedicating yourself to wearing garments in classic styles that are beyond fast fashion trends.

Sew, No Go

Many people suggest that sewing is the key to the problems caused by Westerners buying too much clothing, but sewing new clothes can be just as wasteful as buying fast fashion due to the large amount of textile scrap that comes from one person buying the quantity of fabric necessary to make a single garment. While labor conditions in most sweat shops are indeed horrible, there is considerably less textile waste per garment than in home sewing. This is not to say people should not create their own clothes if they enjoy it, but let’s not kid ourselves with the idea that this is any kind of solution to the problem, especially if the home-sewn garments are on current trend and will also be discarded once they are out of fashion.

Having said that, sewing is an skilled and creative hobby, especially if you use those skills for repairs or altering garments to fit better in order to keep wearing them for a longer period of time.

Vintage Vibes

Vintage items are definitely a fun way to stay stylish while not contributing to the waste and poor worker treatment of fast fashion. Vintage items can create a truly unique and individual look, but before you buy, check out these tips:

— vintage items, particularly pre-1980s, tend to run small, and there is not usually a great selection of plus-size options.

— body shapes have changed over the generations, and garments fit much differently; we are not only heavier than our grandparents, we’re also taller, so many vintage items might be shorter in the torso, or narrow through the shoulders. Make sure it fits well before you buy.

— check the garment carefully for stains, tears, and (sorry) odor. By this I mean, examine every seam, check the fabric inside and out, and sniff those pits. Reject it if you cannot reasonably fix these problems.

— be prepared to mend, alter, and clean your vintage items. Most vintage stores cannot afford to dry clean every item they sell, so a good wash (especially if it smells musty or like mothballs) is important before you wear it.

Get Over Instagram

One of the biggest excuses I’ve seen for people buying (or making) lots of new clothing is that they constantly need new outfits for Instagram. The idea of posting a selfie while wearing something that has already been photographed is shocking for many fashionistas. If this is the only reason you’re constantly buying new clothes, you might need to re-examine your priorities. This is also where style versus fashion comes back into play. Some people might be impressed by a regular parade of new clothing, but images that demonstrate true style — how you put items together, as opposed to quantity, and constantly new — is far more impressive.

When You’ve Just Gotta Trend

If you can’t totally get past the desire to be on-trend, then set yourself a (low) seasonal budget and buy one piece that you will wear to death. I’d still go with accessories here, or something that can be worked into another part of your wardrobe. For instance, current runway shows for Fall 2019 show a lot of garments in bright orange. If you’ve gotta have something in that color, just to show that you’re in fashion, then go with a scarf, or a t-shirt where you can extend its life by wearing it as a layer under other garments, or even by wearing it around the house or to sleep in once it’s no longer on trend.

Paring down to a daily uniform or capsule wardrobe that suits your own unique style and personality can be far more creative and rewarding than buying gobs of cheap clothing that is in fashion for twenty minutes and then made redundant. Finding beautiful pieces that will last for years and that emphasis your own unique style means that you significantly cut down on the amount of clothing that ends up in landfills. Mending or dying existing pieces lets you enjoy them longer. Altering new or vintage pieces to fit you better ensures they won’t get lost at the back of the closet.

You can still contribute to the economy without contributing to the destruction of the environment, but it does take a genuine effort that includes embracing individual style over mainstream homogeneity.

(This post was originally published on Medium.)

Does Retail Therapy Equate a Visit to a Sex Worker?

Hear me out.

Like half the Western world, I spent New Year’s Day glued to Netflix watching the Marie Kondo series. Not because I have any kind of New Year’s resolution to get organized — seriously, Marie Kondo wishes her house was as organized as mine — but out of sheer curiosity.

Known for her books and YouTube tutorials, the organizing expert has a new series on NetFlix that isn’t that far off from those old episodes of Hoarders. She drops by, gasps at people’s mountains of stuff, tells them to throw away anything that doesn’t “spark joy”, and then returns a few days later to see how they’re getting along.

We only watched one episode, one called “Empty Nesters”, a couple in late middle-age who live in a house that had belonged to one of their families and in which more than three generations worth of belongings had been amassed. But it was clear that most of the clutter actually belonged to the couple in question. Dad had walls full of boxes of baseball cards, and Mom was a collector of Christmas decorations and, like many people with shopping/hoarding habits, a good three or four closets full of clothing.

In one of the interview segments, she revealed that she indulged in “retail therapy” on occasions when she was angry at her husband; that going to the mall and spending money was her way of getting back at him for whatever transgression had occurred.

As she cleaned out her closet and piled everything together — Kondo’s system requires participants to amass everything of one type of item (clothes, books, etc.) in one place before beginning to sort — it was clear that the client had piles of clothing still bearing the original tags. As she went through the mountain of garments, she tried on recently purchased clothes that didn’t even fit her properly. Why would someone buy something that wasn’t the correct size?

She claimed to like all the clothes she had amassed, but this caused her to have a hard time organizing and disposing of items, as everything that we saw her sort through seemed to “spark joy” for her. (Psst… “spark joy” is not the same as “I like this, it’s nice.”)

But let’s go back to her comment about her shopping being some kind of revenge on her husband. Now, to be clear, there was no allusion or insinuation of her husband hiring sex workers. It wasn’t that kind of revenge. But she obviously wanted something pretty and cheap to fill some kind of void or assuage her hurt or anger. For roughly the same amount of money a man would spend on a sexual encounter, she could do a haul at the mall. She came home with clothing that didn’t fit and didn’t suit her personal style (which is mostly the case when hiring a sex worker; it’s about fantasy, not reality) and that mostly appeared to be throw-away fast fashion items — there was no evidence of some hardcore spending on Birkin bags or Dior gowns — and I suspect that once she got the things home, she felt guilty and didn’t want to face having to return them, so they got jammed into her over-packed closets and ignored or forgotten about.

The whole process was more about the actual shopping and buying than any intention of keeping and wearing. The joy, the high, the mental and emotional orgasm, as it were, occurred in the store as she was handing over the cash or credit card.

It made me joke that every mall entrance should have one of those clothing charity bins, so that people making “retail therapy”-style purchases of things that they knew they didn’t actually want or need could just shove the stuff into the donation bin on the way to their car, and never have to take the guilt-inducing garments home at all.

Note that I’m not knocking sex workers; they provide an important service. And while there are obviously sex workers with clients who visit them regularly, a lot of the encounters are fairly anonymous. There’s no commitment involved after the fact, just as with shopping addicts/clothes hoarders, there is no level of commitment to the purchases after they are bagged and taken home, especially if they carry the stigma of a purchasing high the person would rather forget.

The whole episode, although especially the clothing segments, made me wonder how we, as a society, had gotten to this point. Because this lady with her clothing hoard is not alone. The show didn’t get into any deep aspect of the why of the client’s clutter, and unlike Hoarders or similar shows where there is a therapist on site, that’s not really Kondo’s schtick, but it makes you wonder why or how it ever got that bad. Does the client have personal issues that need to be addressed by a professional, or is she just typical of a society that buys way too much stuff?

We all make the occasional bad purchase; something didn’t fit the way we thought it would, or it didn’t become as much of a go-to item as we anticipated, but I suggest that three massive closets full of cheap clothing, much of it still with the tags, is indicative that the high and release of handing over cash for a jacket might be similar to the high and release of handing over cash for sex.

Finally, with regards to Kondo’s trademark “spark joy” mantra; while it’s a fantastic catchphrase, I find it somewhat disingenuous when it comes to actual sorting and organizing. Just because you like something, or find it attractive, or even if derive joy from it, doesn’t mean that you have to keep it, or even own it in the first place. I think too many people following Kondo’s system use the sparking of joy as an excuse to keep lots of crap they’d likely be better off without.