When I lived in Chicago from 24-25, I had a few friends straight outta swanksville. One guy friend, Peter, a 24-year-old hedge fund guy who I met by the pool on the roof of my high rise, picked up the tab for lunch once because he had just gotten a cool $60,000 year-end bonus. This information was floated over the guacamole the way I might tell you I had a leftover gift card I needed to use. When we hung out with his pals, we’d run down the street to the liquor store to pick up casual-ass bottles of $120 champagne for the group. These bottles typically sat out half-consumed until morning. Guys: I stole toilet paper rolls from work on occasion and walked 2 miles each way to avoid the $1.75 bus ride; the nonchalance of these half-empty bottles was enough to give me a coronary.
I had two other lady friends who were class acts—priorities included excellent skincare regimens and bottle service—who probably could have coined “treat yoself.” On fourth of July we pitched in to rent a yacht with a crew for the evening to cruise 20 of us up the Chicago river then back into Lake Michigan to watch fireworks. There were two bars, and again—the nonchalance tryina’ kill me. I would have seen them more except that I made hardly any money and was more interested in saving for tangible things like overpriced bags and cuff bracelets than reserving cash for outings. I’d meet them out and order water and an appetizer, then wake up in the middle of the night stressing about how much I’d spent. Their manicures were gleaming. They took trips. They had facialists.
I listened in earnest at the philosophy of spending on care and upkeep and experiences, but as lonely as I was, I still stubbornly clung to the aisles of Saks where I could wander for hours alone after work, buying things that would keep me company back in the confines of my empty studio apartment.
All of which seems entirely backwards to me today.
We all know about dressing your age and acting your age, but I found a new thing when I hit 35: spending your age.
Obviously, finances have been front page news for me now that I’m on my own again. I learned a lot over the last almost 9 years—lessons I wouldn’t trade for anything. Unconditional love and selflessness aside, I learned that budgeting to eat out made me feel happy, nourished me in more ways than one, and centered me. I learned that life is too short for cheap wine. I learned that furniture is fucking expensive. And homeownership is, too. That taxes are the devil, and no one can hide from them. I also learned that, for me at least, generosity feels good. And when you’re in a relationship and you’re in it to win it, you don’t celebrate your financial success on your own. You share it, without ever keeping score. This, of course, like most things in relationships, can be tested.
Some things I’ll honor by keeping private, but I will say: after being sort of chewed up and spit back out over the last few years, I’m thrilled to be responsible for/held accountable by only myself for a change. And this time around, I’m 100% equipped to take it on by myself. It’s that confidence and self-assurance that has been one of the biggest contributors to my ability to forgive and forget and move on with zero bitterness. I know not everyone is that fortunate, so it’s encouraging and empowering at the same time.
[Tito’s and tonic when the clock hits 5 and the temperature hits 50]
I definitely began spending my age only recently, and ironically enough, only once I started making actual money. You’d think making more money would make you spend like more of an asshole, but for me it had the opposite effect. I have a few theories about this:
- When you aren’t balking at the price of quality, you tend to pick it over quantity. All things being equal, you’ll spend less in the long run if you’re conscientiously allocating funds for very few, but very important things. (And you’ll have less, which trust me, is a miracle from heaven.)
- Why? Because that one quality item—whether it’s a couch, a piece of art, or a trip—satiates you much longer. You’re done with that quick-fix approach to feeling like you have what you need all the time. Investments are what they are because they don’t happen every day, or every time you open your browser. (Frankly all spending should be thought of as an investment so as to facilitate more thoughtful buying and appreciation of even the smallest expenditures—whether they’re for more time, new experiences, preventative care, or produce.)
- Get that one quality item and there’s no turning back. Suddenly, you want to streamline and get rid of the quantity. Watch as your entire brain is recalibrated.
- When money is less of a constant source of stress, you stop overthinking how you spend every cent of it. For me this didn’t translate to reckless spending; instead, it meant I allowed myself to finally do the things that I cared about and that fed my soul: eating out, meeting friends for drinks and not ordering the cheapest thing all the time, going places, having enough in my bank account that I could sleep at night, and taking care of myself. Once I realized life was measured in more than clothes and shoes, I spent far less.
- With maturity comes responsibility—sad but true. Things like maintenance, upkeep, and repairs don’t even have price tags for me. I spend with a smile on things like tuning my bike, upgrading my hard drive, dry cleaning my clothes, repairing my only purse, and having my yard sprayed for bugs.
- Getting older means knowing who you are, and what your aesthetic is. This slightly curmudgeonly existence enables me to eschew 99% of trends, which is also helpful. You’re less likely to be keeping up and more likely to be carefully curating only the things that perfectly complement you, and that you can’t live without.
There’s a catch to spending your age, though. For me, it took a number of painful milestones to get perspective, and a pretty tedious to-do list that I’m still working my way through. Spending all of my money for over a year on home renovations was intense, but I knew there was a day that spigot would get turned off. It wasn’t infinite. I mean, the jar in which I threw spare change, tips, and cash earned from selling things on Craiglist was decorated with French flags I’d colored on paper and taped on tiny toothpicks. It was my France trip savings jar, and it was emptied over and over for 3 years for trips to Lowe’s. That leg of my financial journey is over for now, and I’m at peace with that.
I promise I’m getting somewhere with this:
When the going gets tough, the tough get going.
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
Yes, and yes.
When the going gets apocalyptically bad, the badass stop making excuses and take what they want.
For me, it was finally taking the reins with a few little things that had bothered me for too long but felt financially out of reach—in favor of, like, shoes. Little things I thought I was just supposed to live with unless I won the lottery or something. For me, one of these things was laser hair removal, and it was some of the best money I’ve ever spent. Something that had cost me time, money, and confidence since 7th grade is now just off the table—and just like that, one less thing to worry over. It’s something a friend had done after a trauma in her life, too: “There must be something about going through traumatic life events and deciding not to wait to do things any longer.”
It was an expense I would have balked at years ago, but in my own aftermath, it (and a few other things) became an absolute necessity.
I wish I could retroactively pass on some pragmatism to the me of a decade ago, and tell her to stop agonizing over things that are fixable. While there are certain things that we all just have to live with, it’s also your life. If you didn’t notice, I’m not just talking about my bikini line.
That all being said, I invite you to pop over to this Shopbop sale and test out spending your age. Ends March 5th at 11:59pm.
-C.
[Deets for the cheap seats, from top: It’s a Joie world, I’m just living in it: Joie flares + navy Joie blouse + Rag & Bone belt & Newbury booties + Chan Luu rosary // Joie plaid coat + Ajax booties.]
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