I didn't buy a £300 sewing machine this month (or pastries)

Thoughts during my low-buy year.

If you’ve ever tried to track your spending, you know it can be overwhelming. You start off on January 1st as a responsible adult meticulously recording your purchases, and by the time you get to January 4th, the guilt and fear of overspending leads you to give up completely. Either that, or it triggers a premature mental breakdown. Or both.

But here’s a thought for you: instead of focusing solely on what you do spend, why not also make a note of what you don’t spend?

1. The “Bright Idea” Drawer

When I was younger, a teacher once told me to write down any bright ideas, put them in the drawer under my desk, and leave them there. If I came back a week later and still liked the idea, then I could consider it further.

In reality, the vast majority of ideas are forgotten. They’re fleeting thoughts, often a form of procrastination. Do I really want to start a whole new career as a photographer that definitely requires hundreds of hours of research into gear, editing, and marketing that has to start immediately…or am I actually just doing whatever I can to put off doing my tax return?

The same logic applies to impulse purchases. I can take up sewing, I think. I could make my own clothes, that’ll save money! (while introducing expenses for fabric, thread, accessories, and machine maintenance that I never had in the first place). I should buy this new kitchen appliance. But then you remember: the old appliance may be a bit worn, but it works fine. Besides, you probably already have a cupboard full of failed hobbies you could pick up again for free.

That shiny new gadget or hobby kit might feel like a must-have in the moment, but give it a week (or even a day), and you’ll likely realise you don’t need it after all. Part of the reason I’m relaunching this newsletter is because it’s something I used to enjoy, still enjoy, and—because it’s free and has a (albeit very modest) following—it’s an accessible hobby I can return to without spending a penny.

Also, who am I kidding? I see someone making clothes on Tik Tok or a kid doing a guitar cover and think the only thing stopping me from being exactly as talented as this person is spending some cash, it definitely doesn’t require years and years of dedication and practice.

2. The “Things I Didn’t Buy” List

On a particularly rough day, an iced coffee and an Ole & Steen Cinny Social might seem like they could solve all of life’s problems (buckle in guys you have a whole year of me talking about how much a coffee and sweet treat will save me). But instead of giving in, I’ve started resisting these impulses and writing down the things I wanted to buy but didn’t.

For the sake of transparency (and maybe a bit of public accountability), here’s a list of things I almost bought recently but didn’t need:

• A sewing machine (because obviously, this would be the hobby that sticks).

• A slushi maker (in this climate? in this economy?!)

• A folding dining table (where am I even going to put this? who am I planning to feed here?)

• New glasses (I only have one pair and constantly fear I’m going to crush them or lose them).

• A constant supply of pastries and sweet treats.

It’s surprisingly satisfying to look at this list and realise I saved myself a good chunk of cash by doing, well, nothing.

3. From Sacrifice to Reward

The real difficulty, at least for me, is resisting the urge for the little things. It’s easier to talk myself out of big purchases—like a £300 sewing machine—because the default position is, This is expensive; do I really need it? Small purchases, on the other hand, are the exact opposite for me, and need talking out of. The default position is, This is only a small thing, and it won’t happen often (lies), it won’t make a big difference (big lies).

Here’s the little trick I’ve been using: let’s say you’re eyeing up a less than necessary purchase, whatever it may be, however big or small. A new diary, for example. It’s a new year and you want a new £15 Moleskine diary (and you’re lazy and can’t be bothered to look for the unused one you bought in January last year). Before you give in, try this: imagine someone offering you £15 to not buy it, and go home and find the one you already have. Would you take the offer?

If you’re anything like me, you wouldn’t think twice about taking that imaginary money. This works with almost everything, and is particularly effective with very short term small treats. Suddenly, skipping a purchase feels like a lucrative decision. The idea of saying no feels less like sacrificing and more like earning. And if you choose to write these “saves” down and add them up, the effect compounds. Suddenly, the little decisions start to feel like big wins.

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