Admire It, Don’t Buy It

Learning to appreciate style without having to owning every gorgeous thing I see

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how easy it is to turn admiration into acquisition. You see someone wearing something beautiful, click on that link they so thoughtfully provided, add it to cart and hit “check out”. Social media makes it effortless. One swipe, one tap, and suddenly, it’s on its way to your doorstep. Modern-day magic—could you imagine explaining this to someone from 1924? "Oh, you like this dress? Just touch the screen, and it’ll arrive next week." It’s wild.

Social media every time I open my feed

It gets even trickier when it’s a friend’s brand. I mean, how can I not support them? They’ve poured their heart into a new jewelry line or a killer clothing collection, and I want to show up for them! That’s what good friends do—right?!

But then, my closet starts to resemble a clown car—overstuffed and chaotic. I’m over here squeezing new pieces into an already packed wardrobe, and I’m not even wearing 63% of it. (Thanks, Indyx.) Sometimes, my clothes are so tightly packed they’re practically holding each other up, as if they’ve formed some kind of hanger-less support system.

A while back, I started tracking what I actually wear (more on that here), and that’s when it hit me—I wasn’t even looking at most of these beautiful things I’d bought. They were buried, suffocating in the chaos of my wardrobe. It made me question: Why am I buying more when I’m not even enjoying what I already have? What’s the point of owning something if it just sits there, unused, unseen and unappreciated?

How do you even find anything?! (I’m dating myself with this image: IYKYK)

That’s when I started questioning that knee-jerk need to own everything I admire. Yes, a lot of the time, the item itself is stunning. But if I’m honest? It’s more than that. What I’m often craving is to look like them. That effortless chic, cool self-confidence, the way they seem to glide through life like it’s their runway. For a split second, my brain convinces me that if I just get the same jacket or dress, I’ll unlock that magic too.

But then it arrives. I pull it out of the box, filled with excitement like this is going to be the thing that transforms me, and... I still look like me. The dress fits like a glove, the top is just as sculptural as it was online, but the glamour doesn’t transfer past the screen. The magic didn’t arrive with the package. I’m still me, standing in my room, wondering why I don’t look like that person I admired.

It’s funny how we (subconsciously) think buying what someone else is wearing will somehow make us feel like them. But the truth is, they look amazing because it fits their style, their energy, their life. That’s their magic, and it’s not something you can buy.

As

Erika Veurink

eloquently captured: “buying clothes won’t make you fashionable.”

Fashion in our intimate lives manifests as personal style. This is what you put on to walk to a coffee meeting or change into for a fancy dinner. Shopping is consumption. Personal style is consistent—every day, at least once per day, you’re faced with what you’ve collected or inherited or held onto in your closet. All you have is what’s in front of you.

So now, I’m trying to practice a sacred pause. When I see something stunning that someone else is wearing or creating, I’m practicing the art of just appreciating it. Letting it be enough to say, “Wow, that’s gorgeous,” without needing to possess it. A sacred pause, where I breathe in the beauty and breathe out the impulse to buy.

And more importantly, I’m learning to ask, why do I want this? Am I chasing the item itself or the way it makes someone else look?

The funny thing is, even when the answer is “I want to look like them,” that doesn’t mean I have to buy it. I can admire how great it looks on them, appreciate their whole vibe, and then—let it go. I don’t need to add it to my cart in some attempt to capture their coolness. My version of style is going to look different. And that’s okay.

The same thing happens with so many hobbies—photography, painting, knitting. (Been there, done that.) It’s easy to get caught up in collecting gear or materials, thinking that the next purchase will make you better at the craft. But when that happens, the hobby becomes shopping instead of actually creating.

And that’s what I’m trying to avoid (or let’s be real—stop doing!) with style, too. I don’t want to just keep collecting clothes in the hope that one more purchase will finally make me feel stylish. I want to actually have fun getting dressed! I already have plenty to work with—if I actually take the time to see it. So now, before I hit “check out,” I’m trying to ask myself: Will I really use this? How often?

It’s easy to get caught up in chasing the ‘perfect’ wardrobe. But let’s be honest: no new purchase is going to magically upgrade my life. The real upgrade is getting comfortable with what I already own. Style isn’t about shopping. True style comes from knowing who you are—and no purchase can teach you that.

P.S. Imposter syndrome is a sneaky little thing, isn’t it? It definitely popped in while I was writing this, making me wonder—am I just repeating what’s already been said? Is any of this even new? Maybe. Probably?! But I hit “publish” anyway, because I’ve realized that even if it’s not groundbreaking, it’s still worth saying. At least, for me. Writing helps me untangle my thoughts, even the ones that feel familiar. It’s about finding clarity for myself first. And if it happens to resonate with someone else along the way? Well, that’s just a nice bonus.