My Secondhand Year

It’s almost the dreaded Black Friday, and all I can say is, HELP!

This is just a sampling of what I’ve been bombarded with for the past few days. Admittedly, I’m more “extremely online” than usual because I have Covid and so am isolating from my family (including my kids who are home for Thanksgiving). But even a casual glance at your inbox or a social media site will remind you, ceaselessly and loudly, that Black Friday is coming. In most cases, it’s already here.

I’m sure it comes as no surprise to anyone who’s reading this that:

1) I generally despise Black Friday (mostly for its encroachment into Thanksgiving—a holiday all about giving thanks for what we have—and, actually, the entire month of November), and that:

2) Black Friday sales are kinda a problem for me (as in, they tempt me).

It’s just too easy to rationalize buying that jacket, that bag, or that super cozy sweater when it’s 50 percent (or more!) off.

One of the oh-so-clever “hacks” (don’t you hate the word hack? And yet sometimes it is unfortunately the only word I can think of that works, specially when I still have a little twinge of Covid brain fog going on) I came up with to keep myself from purchasing things online this year was to create a “Wish List for 2024” list in my Notes app. And whenever I came across something I thought I wanted, instead of adding to cart (because you guys didn’t actually think I would completely stop looking at online shopping sites, did you?), I would take a screenshot and put it in my wish list.

Genius, right? Except now the chickens are coming home to roost. All those gorgeous saved items—which I probably would have forgotten about—are still gorgeous and now they’re on sale. Oh my.

It used to be that you could easily avoid Black Friday—you just didn’t go shopping that day. I remember feeling so happy to be outside skiing, even in marginal snow conditions, while hoardes of people were fighting for places in line (and even camping out!) to get into Walmart. But now, of course, there’s no escaping—at least if you are at all online.

So, what’s an earnestly committed—but let’s face it, weak—nonshopper to do?

Well, I’ve got a plan.

First, get off the internet as much as possible. Delete (and yes, keep trying to unsubscribe, although in my experience it doesn’t really work) retailers’ emails before even looking at them. Thankfully, I think I’ve turned a corner on this bout of Covid, so I can shut the laptop and distract myself with walks, Thanksgiving prep, and maybe even a little shopping for my daughter’s birthday (don’t worry I’ll wear a mask, even though I doubt I’m still contagious). I might (might!) buy myself one thing. But my rule is it has to be something from my wish list, and it has to be significantly marked down (half off or more), and I have to be able to legitimately establish that I have a need for it (and of course, get rid of something in the same genre).

And of course, unless you need a new big-screen TV or foosball table, maybe avoid Walmart on Friday. Maybe go skiing if you can. Like REI, which has been closed on Black Friday since 2015, says: #OptOutside.

Update: I went through my wish list and very few of the things are on sale. Whew! I’m saved from myself.

And I have a ready-made awesome Christmas list.

Update #2: I just returned from a shopping trip to the mall for my daughter’s birthday and and did not buy a single thing for myself. (Pats self on back—although it really wasn’t that hard since we were mostly in Aerie, Urban Outfitters, and Garage.)