These images were posted by a local estate sale liquidator in her email newsletter. Everything in the cottage was up for grabs. The deceased owner of the estate had a streamlined taste and left behind a collection of objects curated over her lifetime. I usually judge a home by the book collection. What have they read ? That answers a lot of question. The rest is usually stuff that conforms to the taste of the owner and the trends during their peak buying period. In this case, the photo of her shoes stood out :

Firstly, I didn’t buy anything. Secondly, I couldn’t help admire the shoes. This is a worn in collection of footwear. They look comfortable and versatile. The ratio of neutral tones and the bright colors are ‘just right’. The amount of shoes are ‘just right’. She was in her 80s. I often see shoes that fall into 2 categories in these sales. One, the classic Ferragamo’s or Chanel flats. Two, orthopedic soles on some very practical shoes. I was surprised by how much her collection deviated from the stereotype I had in mind. She had some cool looking sneakers in there ! This admiration quickly turned reflective. My shoe collection is tightly edited too. But I struggle to keep it small. I get rid of my well worn pairs too soon. There is always a pair lurking in my wish list, waiting to be bought. There is too much temptation and want in my life. Will I leave behind a pile of things ? Will the pile be small and desirable ? Or large and overwhelming ? Will it all be rejected by the thrift stores and sent to a landfill ? Will strangers judge my choices and draw conclusions about me ? Would I have recovered the monetary investment I put in considering the opportunity cost of putting the money elsewhere ? While these questions can’t be answered today, I did pull out a pair of boots that I have been “saving” for a better day and marched out of the house. I needed the prodding.

The second estate sale was different. The home was filled with handmade wooden furniture and books. I picked up a wooden chopping block, a bread board, a garden fork and a cement planter. And then, I stumbled upon the jackpot. They had this hidden narrow walk in closet. When I found it, all the repressed greed that I have subjugated for years woke up. Pendleton jackets, Brook Brothers shirts, Ralph Lauren belts, Woolrich plaids, Timberland work boots, block heeled shoes, Burberry trench coats, vintage raw denim, Hermes scarves, yarn, French fabrics, hand-knit sweaters, tailored blazers, denim jackets, … Standing in there sent me into a minimalism existential crisis. I wanted everything ! But the wake up call came a second later. I opened one of the cupboards. It had 100 sweaters in various colors. 20 of them were hand knit. Most of them were vintage and made by heritage knitwear companies. But … but 40 of them had their tags on. It filled me with sadness. What happened to this family ? What happened to her before she could take the tags off one of these 40 sweaters ? The mood quickly changed from “I want the treasure” to “I can’t be here“.

These came home with me :

The economics of minimalism can clash with conventional wisdom on frugal and thrift living. Walking away from treasures in estate sales is one of those cases. You stumble into high quality goods that you can use. But you get so much joy from owning less that you don’t want them. I started to construct these scenarios in my head : I could pick up a dozen sweaters and not buy another for a decade while I use up this stash. ( But the idea of owning a 16 sweater stack and making a decision everyday to pick one repelled the opportunity cost of the potential benefits. Is excess consumption in a second hand store different from excess consumption in fast fashion store ? Is excess consumption in a not-s0-fast-fashion store okay ? ) I could pick them up and give them as gifts to friends and family. I could sell them on Instagram and make a profit. ….. One half of my brain said ‘stock up’ and the other half screamed ‘walk away. You have enough’. Who won ?