80/20 Frugality?: Spend more on...What?

Mr FS and I have a combined age of 124. We are close to retirement if we really want it. In fact, we are too old for early retirement. Not that we wanted it. What could be more rewarding than yapping about literature?

Every now and then, I make a vow in this space. Generally, I do not keep my vows. Everyone knows about the Pareto Principle, right? That's the idea that everything is 80/20. You get 80% of the results with 20% of your effort. Then, to get the other 20%, you need to put out 80%. This works with stuff also: we wear 20% of our clothing 80% of the time; we use 20% of our cookbooks 80% of the time, and so on.

This would mean that--in my frugal path-- I've gotten 80% of the benefits from 20% of the effort. For a long time, we put in the extra 20%: we wanted, for instance, to make sure our kids graduated college without debt. DONE. We wanted to pay off our house: DONE. 

Thanks to the recent swoon in the stock market, I have reverted to my 2008 behavior: I no longer look at retirement balances. Time is no longer on our side: whatever we save now will have a relatively small impact in the long run. 

That is disappointing, but freeing. It's hard to change habits. But I herewith vow to try to do only the 20% that will garner the 80% of results. 

So I'm trying to figure out what add-ons we should indulge in. Frugal Son wants us to treat him (and ourselves!) to more of the pricy restaurants in New Orleans. So we're doing a bit more of that.

I can't think of anything else. Any ideas?

Have you ever deliberately INCREASED your spending? On what?

Why Keep Working?

The Great Recession knocked down the stock portion of my retirement accounts by almost 50% and led to the firing of the three tenured French teachers. In a panic, I discovered the Firecalc site (Financial Independence/Retire Early??) and learned from their easy to use calculator that even with my much-diminished accounts and even if both Mr FS and I  were let go because our program was eliminated, we WOULD NOT END UP DEAD in the STREETS. We would have a very, very, very  humble retirement, to be sure, but we would NOT DIE in some Dickensian institution for the impoverished.

That comforted me. Fast forward, and--though no raises in all that time--we are still working and our equity portions have, as they say, recovered. Also we now have a combined age of 124, rather than a combined age of 110. Our life expectancy has--perforce--gone down. So a fairly humble retirement probably looms, but not as humble as it looked in 2008-09.

The people who post on Firecalc are either eager to retire ASAP or ecstatic to have done so. Many seem to be or have been highly paid folks in IT, engineering, and so on. Some even had a stock option windfall. WORK is a dirty word on the site and is humorously typed as w*rk.

Then, while goofing around recently, I read some blogs that I don't usually visit. A common theme was  the lack of structure and meaning in retirement. And that is precisely why I keep working: not just because of the structure and meaning (teaching is meaningful work however you slice it), but because of the goofing around.

I should mention that because of serious budget issues (Great Recession again), there are no classes on Friday--to save on energy. Hence our schedule. We teach two VERY LONG DAYS a week, and can then do the rest of our work at home. And, since we don't teach in the summer (we are FRUGAL), we have a lot of flexibility there too. I think if we were working 50 weeks a year, 5 days a week, I would be longing to retire.

Another thing: teaching is like a mortgage. When I began, I was always in a panic. I would read twenty articles to figure out how to teach a little sonnet. Now I know how to teach many, many things. And teaching new things is not an occasion for so much anxiety. The time I spent in preparation a long time ago has "paid off" after all these years.

So why keep working? If I retired, I would have to find meaningful pastimes. Every day. I would goof around too much. I would feel guilty.

As it is, the meaning and purpose are taken care of by my job. In between tasks, I can goof around without (too much) guilt. I can even write a blog post. 

Ends of Frugality

Now that Mr FS and I are in our 60s, we are having lots of "what" and "when" discussions. When should we retire? What if...we retire? What if...we have to retire? And, of course, the biggies: What is it I/we really want? What's it all about?

And that brings us to "ends." Ends in the sense of "purposes." Ends in the sense of "the end." I've been thinking about endings, well, ever since I became a serious reader.  

Right now I'm thinking about the purposes of my lifelong habits of frugality. I am thankful for the example my frugal parents provided. Frugality got me through many years of panic in graduate school, more panic during a difficult job market. More panic though worries about tenure. More worries about ...well many things. I am a worrier. It must be genetic.

It occurs to me (us) that I (we) don't really need to be particularly frugal any more. We've done what we've done. What we do now won't make that much difference. This would not be the case if we hadn't saved over the years. Then it would be great to adopt frugal practices, which WOULD make a big difference in retirement. So maybe we are--or could be--at the end of frugality in that sense.

So we can keep chugging along in our frugal fashion. Or not so much.

To that end (haha, pretty obvious), we have a plan that is sort of frugal, sort of not frugal. If we do it, I'll write about it. (OK--we want to build a little guest room behind Frugal Son's New Orleans house. Where we can stay).

To that end, Mr FS does NOT want to retire any time soon. We both love teaching, in spite of living in a state that has not valued us for many years (If interested, do a google search. Too dispiriting for me to rehearse all the indignities).

To that end, I had my eyebrows tinted at the nearby beauty college.

To that end, I've redone my wardrobe via various online sites that do NOT involve auctions (more another time).

Treats are really fun when they are occasional. Ditto for vacations. Looking forward to spring break...

I was going to close with the "last words" of some piece of literature, but instead I'll end with something from the END of the FIRST ACT of Shakespeare's Henry 4, Part 1. 

If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come.

Good Price for Longchamp Bags: FYI

Last year, I had the goal of buying a little iconic something for my 60th birthday. After all, there's not much benefit at this point in practicing super-frugality. So my second goal for now and the rest of my life is to loosen up on the frugality. Unfortunately, I never got around to picking out my iconic something. Another birthday has passed.

Miss Em--still in Belgrade--emailed us recently and told me to buy a Longchamp bag given the recent drop in the Euro. Good idea Miss Em! A Longchamp bag is a good starter iconic piece: it IS iconic and it is NOT SUPER EXPENSIVE. That was my planned for treat in June, when we will be heading to Paris.

Today, I got a sale announcement from a place called "What She Buys," with notice of a 40% off sale on selected Longchamp. Readers, I got a Le Pliage. Not only was it already on sale, but was an additional 40% off. The 40% off alone brings the price down to only a teeny bit higher than the Paris price.

After I checked out, I was given a "referral code." If you buy using the code, I will get 500 points and you will get 100 points. The points don't seem tremendously valuable, but hey, better than nothing I guess.

There are lots of bags available. You may have to call to get the 40% off link/selection.  I linked through the email. I think this is a very short special.

Free shipping too.

I think I'm going to keep a list of my "be less frugal" accomplishments. It's hard to break ingrained habits.

Class Consciousness at the Thrift Store: Was I Out of Line with the Chevron Peeps?

Between end of the semester stress (still have much grading to do) and the constant temptations of holiday shopping, I needed---surprise--a trip to the thrift store. As is my new wont, I went to the Food Bank Thrift because it is only about a 3 minute drive from my house. It is also the thrift store that attracts the poorest demographic and, indeed, many customers have vouchers from the Food Bank across the street.

The overworked and harried workers! They are understaffed and the donations are piling up inside, outside, everywhere.

Today the workload was--presumably--eased by the presence of three youngish volunteers. They were in the back. As far as I could tell (the door was open), they were engaged in a gab fest and not doing anything else. The subject of the gabfest was how much money they made working for Chevron, how great their retirement  and other benefits were, how it was good to look for romance within the company because women who learned you worked for Chevron would be after your money, and on and on.  Their entitled voices carried through the small store.

How nice of Chevron to let them volunteer at the thrift store during their paid work hours! What wonderful community relations!

Two of the fellows emerged from the back and entered the store. And--I JUST HAD TO SAY SOMETHING. So I put on my teacher voice and said "I think it's really nice that Chevron is sending you here to do volunteer work for the community. But it is insensitive and hurtful to discuss your fabulous salaries and benefits in loud voices that are heard by the customers, many of whom do not shop here by choice."

The two Mr Chevrons looked chastened. I said I wasn't trying to be mean, but to alert them to the fact that they may have been inadvertently insensitive. (Perhaps I was trying to be a LITTLE MEAN.)

Then I left. I wonder what they said after I was out the door.

Was I out of line? What would you do?

Venturing Outside Your Demographic: In CDG Airport

I have to confess that I sometimes feel ill at ease when I am out of my demographic. 

As my readers no doubt know, I have been pining for an Hermes scarf for a few years. Since I intend to buy only one, and the choices--both new and used- are immense, I have had a hard time choosing. When I was in Paris and Brussels last summer, I did not venture into any stores. I was mostly content with window shopping. I did wander into a perfume store and when the salesperson, in a totally normal French way, asked me if she could help, my French, which I had upgraded via Duolingo practice, instantly evaporated and I fled to Mr FS, waiting on the sidewalk (he hates stores).

Mr FS and I had a 5 hour wait in CDG Airport in Paris. The international section has a spate of luxe stores which are so crowded with shoppers that one really doesn't feel uncomfortable as a browser. I wandered into the Hermes shop to look at the scarves. There was another browser peering into the case with me. The single employee was busy with a chic couple who were--I think--speaking Japanese. The woman was wearing a black and white tweed Chanel jacket, a gorgeous coordinating scarf; she carried an alligator Hermes bag. The effect was totally elegant. Still, she was wearing stuff that cost more than I make in a year. She and her husband, who also wore understated and very elegant clothing, though none identifiable by me, left with several giant bags of new purchases.

This time I didn't flee, but all I could think was: this is not my demographic. Why am I here? Having had a glimpse of beauty, I wandered out and sprayed on some perfume at another shop. I returned to the waiting area and let Mr FS have his turn at a walk. 

Just wondering: do you enjoy venturing outside your demographic? Are you attracted by such shops or uncomfortable? (Image from Retail Design Blog)

Who's the Picker, Anyway? with a Foray into Film and Literature

These posts on my impoverished past have led to a good deal of reflection. And, even though I can't remember anything that happened five minutes ago, I am remembering some details of my past.

First question: who IS a picker? I suppose it could be anyone who sells to someone else. The picking ends when an item reaches a final customer. Mr FS and I bought some antique quilts when we lived in Indiana, when quilts were all the rage. We met a lovely woman, Lois, who was a picker for other dealers. She was a small town woman with very little money, but an incredible feel for objects and a true sense of beauty.

She really liked us, so she would often give us first dibs on items she bought from someone's home in her small town of Spencer, Indiana. Once she offered us a quilt for $200. It had trapunto work, but was not particularly beautiful. Plus we had no money. So we declined.

A few weeks later, we visited some well-known quilt dealers at their home in Indianapolis.  Rod Lich and Susan Parrott. Amazingly, they are still in business. I don't know why they put up with us, since we really had almost no money. While we were looking at their quilts, another dealer--from Texas--arrived. Rod and Susan showed her the trapunto quilt we had turned down. The Texas dealer bought it for $750! Rod and Susan assured her she could get $1200 for it in Texas.

Items, particularly antiques and collectibles, have no "value" other than what someone is willing to pay. And dealers sell things to other dealers. Up and up. And sometimes down.

This all made me remember a rather wonderful book I read when I lived in Indiana: The Rembrandt Panel. It was passed to me by my art-loving friend Charlotte. It concerned a picker who found a painting in a junk shop. He thought it was a Rembrandt and so brought it to an art dealer, who figured out that it indeed WAS a Rembrandt. Unfortunately (and I'm really not ruining anything since this happens early on), both these characters are killed by the bad guy. Charlotte wondered how the author could kill off such a great set of characters, especially the art dealer. After that, the plot devolved into silliness. The author--an art historian--wrote another book (not as good), and died shortly thereafter.

Now, a foray into film. I really liked the movie Please Give. The main character, played by Catherine Keener, owns a shop that wells mid-century modern furniture that she buys from estates. She feels guilty about how little she pays for things. One funny moment comes when she passes a high-end shop and sees a table the owner bought from HER shop--only he is selling it for much more than he paid, just as she did.

Issues of value, issues of knowledge, so many issues!

I am kind of relieved that I'm not interested in "collecting" things anymore.

Am I Still Frugal?

I have been aroused from my blogging slumber by a comment on my last post wherein I hawked Paula's Choice products.

This is supposed to be a frugal blog.........?
Pleeeeeeeeease !

Nothing like a little derision to put me on the defensive. Lizzie raises a good question, of course. On the defensive side: I buy perhaps 3 items per year from Paula. always on sale. They work well and last a long time. 

Further, I use many cheapo products recommended on her site: Cerave, Cetaphil, various sunscreens. In a sense, I feel that I'm paying her back for her excellent advice, which is, at times, better than the advice that dermatologists are dispensing (along with pricy items they sell in their offices). For instance, a colleague who had skin cancer was told by her doctor to wear sunscreen, but the doctor did not inform her of the importance of broad spectrum ingredients as Paula did, way before this info was in mainstream media. My colleague's sunscreen lacked a crucial ingredient, so I gave her some Paula sunscreen from my stash. Now most sunscreens have broad spectrum protection, but at the time, they did not. 

I first heard about Paula from a friend who lent me her book. My frugal heart was thrilled to discover advice on skincare, hair products, and make up that got around the always tempting advertisements we are bombarded with. Paula recommends many, many drugstore brands. Paula herself noted that she was skirting an ethical issue by starting her own line of products. I think she handles it pretty well. I've never used much make up, but the friend who lent me the book so many years ago saved a TON of money when she switched from department store to drugstore brands. 


Besides, I am 60 years old and have been uber-frugal for many, many years, at first by necessity and now (thank heavens) more by choice. I think my Paula purchases fit into my frugal ethos, but most of us make spending choices that appall both friends and family. I, for one, reserve the right to be appalled by disposable diapers!

Snippets from Serbia

Some musings from Miss Em on stuff and money, here and in Serbia. And, in the doting Mama department, here are more charming snippets from her life there.



Second musing has to do with the ways in which money and cultural value systems collide. I was thinking about the things that are expensive in the States versus what is expensive here: in the States, services and experiences are expensive while objects are cheap. Here, many objects are expensive, but services and experiences are cheap. In Serbia, clothes, makeup, furniture: all expensive. But transportation, food, beauty salons, barber shops: all cheap. That is basically an inverse situation from the States, where (good) food is expensive, a visit to the hair salon costs $50, but you can buy clothes and objects in abundance. Here: cafes on every corner. In the States: Dollar Stores and Targets. The monetary differences indicate deeper ideological cultural differences: here, the cultural norm elevates enjoying life, the dailyness of it, the coffees and getting a good shave and eating food and the like. In the States, luxury experiences are exorbitantly expensive: the salon, Disney World, coffee. But the things are cheap, and people base experiences around accumulation of things. And then, what do you do? You sit amidst your things and develop desires for more things. You know I’m a great lover of things—and people here are too; just look at the care they take getting dressed!—but I’m talking here on a broad cultural scale. Our economy and culture and absorbed value system promotes the one-dollar section at Target, so much “fast fashion,” but meanwhile $5 Starbucks lattes are grabbed to-go, not meant to be lingered over. Here, a $1 espresso gets you five hours in a café, or more, if you want it. I don’t know, I probably didn’t express that well. But looking at the things the economy encourages its citizens to buy—in the States, lots of trinkets and material things; here, services and experiences—must inform values on a deep level. Right? Or did the value systems inform the economy? I’m a bit more pessimistic than that, and tend to think the economy/money controls us and not vice versa.

I think this is also linked to an American cultural fear of death and transience. An unwillingness to engage with it. Things last, at least in concept. Experiences, like life, are transient. We hate to consider our own transience. Funeral culture: in the States, it’s all about buying the expensive coffin and having the right things at the funeral, but cemeteries are largely unvisited. Here, the gravestone is important, sure, but people also spend lots of time visiting cemeteries, honoring the dead with time rather than materials. It would take a bit longer to focus this theory that our cultural fixation with material goods is linked to our cultural fear of engaging with mortality, but honestly, I think there’s something to it!

Second-Hand Shopping, Eileen Fisher: Thoughts on Virtue

I'm still in a daze from the end-of-semester stress. Usually I emerge into a period of lesser stress, but this year we are emerging into closing on Frugal Son's house, a major stress-event unto itself. One de-stressing event: the return home of recent grad Miss Em. Miss Em and I celebrated her arrival with a visit to the TWO Goodwills in our area. What a treat! Also, having Miss Em comb the racks with me is like having a clone.

And the frugal gods were with us. As we walked in, I said to Miss Em, "Find me something from Eileen Fisher." We didn't, but we got a few nice things. This was the seldom-visited-because-farther-away outpost that is opposite the entrance to an upscale gated community.

We were sated, but decided to stop at the lower-level shop on the way home. Miss Em came charging up after a few minutes: she had found THREE Eileen Fisher pieces. They were all together on the rack (same donor--thanks!). I investigated and found TWO more. Now we are even more sated. We divvied up the EF and decided to swap after a year. And now we have to donate even more excess to make some space. Miss Em--unlike me--is good at that.

We were feeling pretty good. I've been reading (can't remember sources--sorry) that second-hand shopping is the most virtuous--in terms of environmental impact and--post-Bengladash building collapse--in exploitation. So we were not only frugal but virtuous: can't beat that!

But how virtuous are we? After all, the fact that there were FIVE Eileen Fisher pieces donated at once--all very nice, in good shape--meant that the donor has even more. Also, we noted that many of the EF pieces were made in China of Italian yarn. Does EF supervise the factories? Are the savings in labor reflected in the prices? EF has a section on her website outlining various virtuous categories: made in USA, eco, Fair Trade, and so on. Does any item fall into all the categories? I'm not criticizing--just wondering. After all, the clothing is expensive for me, even on sale. And I wonder if my purchases make a difference or if it would better to buy something cheaper and donate the difference in cash to Doctors Without Borders.

And as for second-hand shopping: is it all that virtuous or am I just trying to justify my cheeepitude? If the item was made in China in bad conditions, does its virtue component go up as it cycles through the secondhand market? I keep thinking of an interesting moment in Paradise Lost. When Adam is thinking about falling in Book 9, he wonders if his act will be less guilty (it won't--spoiler) because the the fruit is "foretasted." He's wondering if--and hoping that--the sin will be diluted by the fact that it was already tasted. Second-hand sin, anyone?

"The Shirt" by Robert Pinsky

Many thanks to Janice, of viviennefiles, for reminding us of the true costs of what we wear.

I am remembering fondly the little ILGWU tags in clothing from my vintage days.


The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams,
The nearly invisible stitches along the collar
Turned in a sweatshop by Koreans or Malaysians

Gossiping over tea and noodles on their break
Or talking money or politics while one fitted
This armpiece with its overseam to the band

Of cuff I button at my wrist. The presser, the cutter,
The wringer, the mangle. The needle, the union,
The treadle, the bobbin. The code. The infamous blaze

At the Triangle Factory in nineteen-eleven.
One hundred and forty-six died in the flames
On the ninth floor, no hydrants, no fire escapes--

The witness in a building across the street
Who watched how a young man helped a girl to step
Up to the windowsill, then held her out

Away from the masonry wall and let her drop.
And then another. As if he were helping them up
To enter a streetcar, and not eternity.

A third before he dropped her put her arms
Around his neck and kissed him. Then he held
Her into space, and dropped her. Almost at once

He stepped to the sill himself, his jacket flared
And fluttered up from his shirt as he came down,
Air filling up the legs of his gray trousers--

Like Hart Crane's Bedlamite, "shrill shirt ballooning."
Wonderful how the pattern matches perfectly
Across the placket and over the twin bar-tacked

Corners of both pockets, like a strict rhyme
Or a major chord. Prints, plaids, checks,
Houndstooth, Tattersall, Madras. The clan tartans

Invented by mill-owners inspired by the hoax of Ossian,
To control their savage Scottish workers, tamed
By a fabricated heraldry: MacGregor,

Bailey, MacMartin. The kilt, devised for workers
To wear among the dusty clattering looms.
Weavers, carders, spinners. The loader,

The docker, the navvy. The planter, the picker, the sorter
Sweating at her machine in a litter of cotton
As slaves in calico headrags sweated in fields:

George Herbert, your descendant is a Black
Lady in South Carolina, her name is Irma
And she inspected my shirt. Its color and fit

And feel and its clean smell have satisfied
Both her and me. We have culled its cost and quality
Down to the buttons of simulated bone,

The buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters
Printed in black on neckband and tail. The shape,
The label, the labor, the color, the shade. The shirt.

My Broken Door Handle Saves me $8 a Day!

In our graduate student years of poverty, Mr FS and I would look longingly at some of our friends who were married to people gainfully employed: we would sigh, "I can't wait till we're in the middle class." And even many years later, we still can't believe our good fortune: here we are, in the middle class.

At the moment, we have a sub-middle-class car situation. Frugal Son--who is trying urban life sans car--borrowed our "new" (10 year old) car for a trip. We were left with our older car: a sturdy Toyota Camry circa 1998. We love it!

A few months ago, Mr FS opened the door on the driver's side and the plastic handle broke. With some duct tape, he managed to fix it. A few weeks ago, I opened the door on the passenger side and broke that handle. Sadly, Mr FS cannot fix it. We will probably get a new handle, but we have been busy.

We did wonder: was this a sign from the universe that we should get another car? I told Mr FS that many frugal types (our role models) believe in saving $250 per month in a car fund. That way, when you need a car, you have the money. We have managed to save for our next car. But--as in “O God, make me good, but not yet” (is that really from Evelyn Waugh?)--we are thinking "We are grateful that we have saved for another car, but we don't want to buy one yet."

I figured that each day we hold on to the old Camry, we are saving about $8.00. And how often does anyone sit on the passenger side? At most, twice a day, during our commute, which is only two days a week. Therefore, we are saving about $8.00, every day we hold on to this car. Think of how much money one would need to generate that kind of interest payment--especially in this day of ridiculously low interest rates!

Every time Mr FS and I go somewhere together--which necessitates opening the door with a screw driver--we say "Yes! We are in the middle class." We said it today in the parking lot at Whole Foods (Miss Em wanted to try the $2.99 wine), where we had by far the worst car, not even counting the door handle.

Do you ever put off a major purchase even when you've saved enough?

Beauty Bargains: Sunscreen and Philosophy

Still trying to recover from the end of the semester: it is always thus. Two bargain opps in the skincare category. My beloved Paula Begoun has FREE SHIPPING ON ANY SIZE ORDER! This is good, especially if you want to try ONE THING. She also has 50% off on some of her stellar SUNSCREEN. Also--and this has been all over the internet--my other beloved store--Big Lots--has (or had) lots of Philosophy make up for $3.00! It's amazing how unprepossessing pricy make-up looks when it is hanging on a rack by the checkout lane at Big Lots. A lesson there. My Big Lots is suppose to get another shipment tomorrow, btw.

Luxury Goods: Real or Not Real?

One of my students was yapping with me after her final. I asked her what she planned to do after graduation. She didn't know. She mentioned that her father works at Saks in the shoe department. I asked her if she had thought about working there. Hmmmm, she said. I asked her if her father had gotten her the GIANT Damier LV bag she was sporting. No, said she. It's a fake. She said her father recognized it as fake right away. She also said everyone assumed it was real even though it cost only $40. Everyone thinks it's real because I drive a BMW, she said. What's real? What's not? Always a question.

Rescue Missions: Frugal or Insane?

Everyone I know seems to have a rescue dog. My sister-in-law cares for (rescue) feral cats. These are worthy endeavors.

I have rescue stuff. Thrift store shopping is by definition a rescue mission. I am drawn to the imperfect rejects: the cashmere sweater with a tiny hole, the cookbook with stained pages. How could someone cast off something with such a minor defect? I suppose I am thinking of my own defects and imperfections: minor and not so minor.

A recent rescue: At the New Orleans Airport, we were sitting neat a few business travelers, all male, with that aura of success. The one with the most obvious aura got up, said loudly "After 25 years, it's time to say good-bye." Walked over to the trash and dramatically threw out a small travel bag. It looked nice to me.

I figured his performance was public, so I said Why are you throwing it out? He said The bottom split. Do you want it?

I said I have a tendency to rescue things, so OK. He went back to the trash, fished it out, and presented it to me.

It was a Ghurka bag, a bit stained, but still nice. Kinda like this, only without the outside pocket. I told him we would try to fix it. He seemed happy. He told me he had carried the bag on trips for 25 years, many to Europe.

As the concept person (see my post on harder-than-they-look window treatments!), I rely on people with know-how to get things done. Enter Mr FS. He glued the bag from the inside. He used PL Loctite Sealant.

Honestly, the bag is so neat that I would duct tape it from the outside if necessary.

Are rescues an inherently virtuous activity? I don't know. They can lead to clutter. What do you think?

Hovering? or Helping? and the Frugal Family

So much has been written on the helicopter parents who oversee every aspect of their children's lives: from sports, to college applications, to the college experience. Being lazy and rebellious, I was pretty nonchalant in my parenting and so assumed I was not a helicopter, hovering over my children.

Every now and then, though, I wonder. For instance, I read a blog post (could not find it again, so if you know what the source is, let me know, so I can link) a little while ago by a mom who works at Drew university. Her daughter, a student at the same school, emailed or texted something along the lines of "I need tampax and shampoo!" To which Mom replied "I do too!" This exchange was lauded as a NON-HELICOPTER moment, since Mom did not rush out and buy daughter said items.

Am I a helicopter mom? I wonder this as a prepare to visit Miss Em this weekend. Last time, I brought her some toothpaste and oat groats. I did not make a special trip. I pick up items as I see them on sale. I got the toothpaste for under a dollar. If Miss Em had to rush out to get the stuff, it would take her a good bit of time, not to mention at least a few dollars. I'd rather she save her money where she can so she can use it where she wants.

On this visit, we will probably bring things back, as she approaches the end of the semester. Still, we plan to bring her a treat in freezer bags: some red beans and rice. Is that hovering?

Sometimes I think I am out of step with American culture because I subscribe to a more Asian (so says Frugal Son) idea of family. As I write I am wearing a new-to-me Eileen Fisher linen and cotton sweater. This was picked up by Miss Em on a thrifting jaunt. It was a sacrifice because Miss Em likes the sweater. She gave it to me because she knows I love Eileen Fisher and only buy a piece or two a year: even on sale, the prices are high.

Thanks Miss Em, my helicopter daughter. In the same spirit, instead of mom and daughter going off to buy their own toiletries--requiring two trips to the drugstore--I would like to see one say, "I'll pick up some for you." Maybe next time, the other one will do the same.

So, am I fooling myself? How much do you do for your kids. And how much do they do for you?

Do You Get What You Pay For? AND Alligator Belt Karma

Sort of a double post. Really, one post with two topics.

FIRST: The hackneyed sentence You get what you pay for! Many--even in the frugality corner of the blogosphere--believe in the truth of the statement. Sadly, I generally do not. If it were as simple as that, it would be easy to make purchasing decisions.

Recent Case in Point: a Colehaan Alligator belt. The night before Frugal Son went off for his year in France, he announced that he didn't have a belt. Ergh. He is so disorganized (inherited from me). Luckily, I have a small assortment of belts for such emergencies, so we didn't have to run to Walmart or worse in the middle of the night. There to buy a low quality belt.

No, I had not one but two Colehaan alligator belts that I had acquired for very cheap, as is my wont. They were in Mr FS's closet. Of course, they had never been worn (either by the first owner, or by Mr FS, who likes to age his clothing).

Naturally, Frugal Son picked an alligator over some plainer belts. He does have an eye for luxury. His favorite sweaters are cashmere.

A few weeks ago, he emailed and mentioned that the belt was falling apart! I don't know if CH makes these anymore, but alligator belts cost upwards of $200. Was the belt worth $200--no.

Second part of the tale: how I got the belts at Goodwill. A LONG time ago, Funny About Money pined for a Brighton belt in her blog. I spied one from afar at GW and rushed over. I thought it would be so neat if I could send a fave blogger a present. Alas, though it was a Brighton belt, it was in very poor shape.

But picking it up to inspect its condition uncovered the two unused alligator belts. Mr FS and Frugal Son are always having belt emergencies, so I acquire extras where I can.

Thanks, Funny for the beautiful belts!

So, have you experienced any karma lately?

The Diderot Effect et moi: Decluttering. Spending, Consuming and all the rest

Oh Denis Diderot: where have you been in my life? The last time I thought about you was in Humanities 210, when I read Rameau's Nephew. About which I remember nothing. The next year, a friend wrote his senior thesis on Diderot, entitled Le Philosophe Dans les Ruelles (why do I remember that? must have had a crush on the guy).


While procrastinating on my own decluttering, I chanced upon a blog post by Philip Brewer. Here is an excerpt from his post:

The Diderot Effect is named after the French writer Denis Diderot, who wrote a famous essay on how the gift of one very nice item had made his other things look shabby. In an amusing fashion, the essay traces out the series of steps by which he ended up having to upgrade everything he owned.

A whole lot of marketing is aimed at getting you to buy one nice thing — because the marketers know that having one nice thing will put you on the path to replacing many other items as well — things that are perfectly good, but that aren't as nice as your new thing.

It's an easy trap to fall into, and a terrible one.

Fortunately, the Diderot Effect is its own cure. While one nice thing makes your other stuff look shabby, when your stuff is all about the same, it produces a pleasant inertia that makes it easy to resist upgrades.

I wonder if the writer read and remembered Diderot? The term was coined by an academic/guru of culture and commerce, Grant McCracken. The Wikipedia entry describes McCracken's thesis thus:

In McCracken's usage the Diderot Effect is the result of the interaction between objects within "product complements", or "Diderot unities", and consumers. A Diderot unity is a group of objects that are considered to be culturally complementary in relation to one another. For example, items of clothing, furniture, vehicles, etc. McCracken describes that a consumer is less likely to veer from a preferred Diderot unity in order to strive towards unity in appearance and representation of one's social role. However, it can also mean that if an object that is somehow deviant from the preferred Diderot unity is acquired, it may have the effect of causing the consumer to start subscribing to a completely different Diderot unity.

The term was popularized (again, thank you Wikipedia) in Judith Schor's The Overspent American.

If you want to read Diderot's essay, here is a translation (on a Marxist site! how appropriate!)

Anyway, for me, this has been food for thought. Should I subscribe to Brewer's idea: keep everything at the same level? Is it possible to upgrade one thing without having to upgrade everything?

Have you ever succumbed to the Diderot Effect?

Buy Local?

As we all know, it is good to support local businesses, even if, at times, they are a bit more expensive. So I began my quest for a new piece of furniture in my little downtown, which has a number of specialty shops.

Store 1: Run by a nice, but crazy lady who used to live down the street from me. I would be afraid to give her my credit card number!
Store 2: I didn't really like the quality of the piece, even though the store is rather high end. The owner was very nice to me, however.
Store 3: A definite possibilty! But the owner was rather short with me. He seemed so bored by my questions. That's how he was a few months ago when I went on a different mission.

Just to check, I looked up the prices on-line. The piece carried by Store 3 is also carried by a fancy on-line company, at several hundred dollars higher.

It's also carried by another on-line retailer and would come to about 10-15% less than the local store.

This isn't a pressing issue. I start my shopping AT LEAST a year in advance. By the time the year is up, I often decide that I don't really want whatever it was I thought I wanted.

But my question is this. Would you buy local even though the owner was curt and indifferent?

Frugality and Poetry: Shakespeare Sonnet 29

Today I was teaching Shakespeare's Sonnet 29. Even now, I can hardly believe that a big chunk of my job consists of helping students learn to read poetry. It was slow-going. The class is at 8 in the morning, plus my dear students had an assignment due today.

We got to line 10 and--unaided by the poor notes in the venerable Norton Anthology of English Literature--I tried to explain why the word Haply is important. What do you think it means, said I. Eventually, someone ventured Happily??? YESSSS. Then I said, The word has another meaning.

This possibility was outside the knowledge of my sleepy non-majors taking a required course. So, dear Readers, I told them: It's like happenstance; it means by chance. We talked about why that was important.

Then I said, Do you know why a writer might use a word with two meanings? No idea. I pointed out that a sonnet has only 14 lines, each with 10 syllables: the writer doesn't get a lot of words! So, it makes sense to use a word with two meanings. Kind of like a buy-one-get-one-free at the grocery, said I.

This perked some of the students right up: Oh, I LOVE when you buy-one-get-one-free, one exclaimed. At least they were paying attention.

And now I know why I like all those double meanings in poetry: frugality.


When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.