The simple life: choice or obligation?

Yesterday I had a chance to see some old friends at the local pub.  It’s a yearly ritual where all of the people that have left the area in which we grew up come back and brave amateur karaoke and a “B” health rating to be together, relive old times and catch up on each others’ lives.    I came prepared to be honest and open about our lifestyle back in France and my friends did not disappoint me.  Some found my lifestyle crazy or amusing while others seemed to understand completely, but no one judged me, which is all I ask.

Making my own pasta: a luxury afforded by time or an obligation created by lack of money?

However, one of my friends pointed out that we’ll only be living in voluntary simplicity in the New Year if I manage to find an income source. If my idea for a mini-business doesn’t work, and I don’t find a job, the things we do to save money and resources will be out of need and not out of choice.

An uncomfortable lull fell over the conversation after my friend’s comment, although I’m slowly learning that discomfort during conversations with friends and loved ones is not always a bad thing.  My friend made an excellent point and the nearly tangible unease that followed what she said made me wonder:  Is voluntary simplicity somehow better or more palatable than involuntary simplicity?

I suppose one could argue that DH and I never really had a choice. We started down a path towards downshifting years ago when we had more options, but the economy and a series of events beyond our control also influenced our decision to move to France. We were both employed and earning good money before we left, so our move felt like a decision we made than an obligation.  However, our jobs felt precarious, the economy looked shaky and our access to health care seemed uncertain.  In a way, we chose to jump ship while we still had a life raft.

As far as having a choice is concerned, however, I suppose I think we’re all in the same boat. Of course I can’t predict the future, but it seems to me that the consumption on credit the US economy is built on cannot continue.  The oil that fuels our lifestyle will become increasingly expensive, and the climate will change.  I’m fairly certain that most of the US population will be forced to simplify in the next few years.  DH and I will hardly be the only ones to find ourselves forced to make some choices.

Not that being ‘just like everyone else’ is somehow a prerequisite for being happy.  But choosing to deal with a changing world proactively doesn’t make me feel like I’m giving something up either. I don’t find it offensive or unbearable to consider the fact that circumstances may make a simple life the only realistic option for DH and I in the future.

Simplicity is, after all, the lifestyle towards which we’d gravitate even if we somehow found ourselves to be entirely insulated from the economic, social and environmental changes of our time. I’m neither afraid or sad regarding our future.   We may not always have the choice to live a more extravagant lifestyle, but we can always choose to be thankful for what we have and find creative solutions for whatever circumstances life throws our way.

Life without the heater–dealing with worried loved ones.

Before I took off for my visit to Southern California, my husband and I took stock of our decision to not heat our apartment this winter.  I told him that he shouldn’t feel guilty if he needs to turn it on while I’m gone.  It’s one thing when you’re there and you realize that 50 degrees indoors isn’t as cold as you might have thought.  It’s another thing when you think about a loved one sitting around without the heat on. But DH is as determined as I am, and he’s keeping the heater off.  I’ll be home in a few weeks, so I’ll feel better then knowing just how warm he is (or isn’t!)

Here I am adjusting to the difference in temperature between the Alps and Southern California on a hike this August. If you look closely, you can see the emergency heat reflecting blanket under the red windbreaker. I've never felt so close to hypothermia.

I already know that I’ll have to get used to the temperatures in France again–both indoor and outdoor.  I barbecued out turkey yesterday outside in shorts, so my body will just have to adjust to the change in climate.  I already did it a couple of times this year.  First I went from rather extreme heat in Southern California to cool mountain temperatures in the Alps this summer.  My body adjusted again when the temperature changed rather rapidly this fall during our first cold snap.

Both of our families know about our decision not to use the heater this winter.  In this case, my family doesn’t seem to care, but DH’s family is concerned.

Back in France, DH has a cold.  He’s been to the doctor and probably does not have the flu.  Since DH is a primary school teacher, he typically gets sick several times a year.  It’s a way of life for us both actually.  This year, without the heater, DH has been no more or less sick than ever, but his mother is very concerned about his health without the heat and has been on his case.  I have to admit, I was worried too when I heard he had a cold. I told him to turn on the heat if he was cold and he said he wasn’t cold, just sick.

My mother in law’s concern comes out of love for DH and I.  I’m sure she only wants what’s best for us. Like me, she probably has a harder time feeling convinced that our apartment is warm enough when she’s not there to see for herself.   Still, it’s the first time we’ve received really significant pressure from our French relatives about our lifestyle.  It did make me question our decision for a while and do some additional research.

I read that the WHO recommends indoor temperatures not fall below a certain level: 15 celsius or 59 fahrebheit–and that’s if you intend to be physically active.  More extreme temperatures, they argue, put the very young and the very old at increased risk for complications and death. DH and I, however, fall comfortably in the middle of the age spectrum and we don’t have children to consider at this time.

I’m not a doctor or an expert on cold weather living, however, I find it very hard to believe that simply being in a cold house is bad for us–especially if we keep warm with clothing, warm food and drinks and hot water bottles.  I suppose if we actually felt cold for hours on end that it would take its toll, but that’s just not the case.  Again, we know the signs and symptoms of hypothermia and have both camped in weather this cold without fearing for our health.  So why do we feel it’s unhealthy or dangerous not to turn on the heat when we’re indoors?  The important thing is to be able to control your internal body temperature, not the temperature of all the air in your apartment.

I’m keeping an open mind.  After all, my mother in law and the World Health Organization both warn against the effects of cold indoor temperatures.  Still, aside from the imediate risks we’d run if we got hypothermia, the most likely worry is that we’d get sick more often or remain sick longer if we don’t keep the indoor temperature comfortable.  So we’ll keep an eye out on our health this winter and report back.  So far, each of us has been sick once–which is fairly standard for us this time of year, especially considering that DH is bathed in germs every day as a primary school teacher.

I will say one thing:  I’m very glad that DH and I have the opportunity to try this experiment knowing that we can turn on the heater any time, that we have access to hot food, cooking fuel, sufficient clothing and warm blankets any time we need them and that the heater is just a flick of the switch away.  Many people around the world do not have the luxury of choosing between heat or no heat.  We also have the luxury of making this choice without also choosing for dependent children.

We’ll keep you posted on how it goes.

Consumerism: proof we haven’t evolved to deal with abundance.

Yesterday, out walking on a beautiful Southern California fall day, I peeked into the open garages of a few expensive, designer homes to find them full to overflowing with all manner of things.  Although I grew up here, the specter seemed foreign to me after just a few months of concerted effort at downshifting and simplifying.

I wandered towards a shopping center because I need some contact solution.  It is a place filled with giant, box-shaped stores: Target, Bed Bath and Beyond . . . banks, cell phone carriers, sporting goods stores and fast food joints.  In case your garage has not yet reached critical mass or you ‘need’ more fast food, this is your place to be. Spending this past week in Southern California, I’ve really been struck by the amount of ’stuff’ and ‘food’ surrounding us here.

It’s more than what I’ve seen in France, but it looks like the French are catching up all the time. Hypermarchés are popping up everywhere, people are carrying around increasing amounts of useless things as the population falls increasingly victim to obesity.  So much for the French not getting fat.  People show a worrying trend towards being overweight, spending on credit and hoarding clutter in the US, but given the appropriate circumstances, anyone can fall victim to this kind of lifestyle.

In the US, we’ve created an environment that seems practically designed to waylay a species that has known scarcity during its formative evolutionary years.  Other countries ‘following in our footsteps’ will not be far behind in this trend towards consumer addiction on a mass scale.

In August, I saw an interview by David Solomon on The News Hour with Ellen Shell, the author of the book Cheap.   Shell has researched our consumer culture and it’s cost in detail for her book and the interview certainly merits a quick peek.  But here’s something Shell said that I find relevant to this post:

Brain scientists have shown that a good deal triggers the pleasure centers of the brain in almost all of us to such an extent that it obliterates a more reasonable, rational side.

In the case of bargain-hunting, the anticipation of owning something for very low price is what triggers the biggest reaction, the biggest pleasure sensations in the brain. It’s not the actual owning of the object, OK?

Shell’s goes on to argue that our hunting, gathering ancestors passing up a bargain or an ‘opportunity’ in the form of a missed kill or food not immediately foraged could be a life and death issue. Apparently we come from a long tradition of ancestors who took advantage of ‘deals’ immediately out of fear that later scarcity would not forgive the decision to pass up on opportunities.

It’s easy to see how the instinct to grab at opportunities in shopping is directly related to our tendencies to amass tons of clutter, gain weight and hoard things. In her article “A Clutter too Deep for Mere Bins and Shelves,”(January 2008) Tara Parker Pope of the New York Times discusses the link between clutter and health problems (including weight gain and psychological issues).  She also notes what she sees as a trend in concern over clutter and related health issues:

The country’s collective desire to clean up is evident in the proliferation of organization-oriented businesses like the Container Store and California Closets. Reality shows like “Mission Organization” on HGTV and “How Clean is Your House?” on Lifetime feed a national obsession to declutter. The magazine Real Simple has even created a $13 special issue on cleaning house.

I’m certainly not arguing that we can’t live in a time in which ‘cheap’ things and cheap food are abundant without reacting in wasteful, unhealthy and financially unwise ways–we can always counter our instincts with rational thought and mindfulness. It strikes me as obvious, however, that many people are not doing so.  Going against instinct and evolution takes time, effort and discipline.  It takes space to think and mull things over.  That’s not going to happen if you spend your time working, shopping, driving, eating out and then rushing to the gym to try to work off some of that extra food.

Overcoming our evolutionary impulses in this current climate takes an organized and focused effort–it will require living ‘examined lives.’ Particularly as the holiday season approaches along with the influx of foods, things and ‘reasons to buy,’ it’s important to recognize the impulse to spend for what it is: a leftover instinct from times of scarcity that (at least for now) is not relevant to our current condition.

I intend to spend the holiday season avoiding commercial TV and shopping centers–both the US and French varieties.  I’m going to use this festive season to reflect on my life and spend time with the people I love.

DH on strike against his will.

I sometimes think the ability to appreciate a good strike is cultural.

I’ve lived in France a long time, have a French husband and have studied French government and history.  I love many things French, but the strike simply escapes me.

Stinky cheese, like the occasional strike, is a taste to be acquired.

Today, DH is taking an involuntary day off.  He wanted to go to work, but was faced with an impossible situation.  You see, any non-striking teachers are required to take ALL the students that show up at the school.  Had he gone to work, he could easily have found himself alone with 50-100 primary school students.  That’s not even safe in a quiet, stable neighborhood.  As it stands, DH works in the city with some tough kids.  He could not provide for their security by himself–much less provide them with an education.  So today, he’ll be taking a long bike ride with a friend who was recently laid off and catching up on his paperwork.

Working as a teacher in California in the past, I’ve had plenty of room for discontent. I’ve been harassed, yelled at, and laid off twice.  I’ve lived with contracts from which I could be ‘let go’ at any time for any reason with no cause or explanation whatsoever.  I once worked for a month in a school district before our administrators called a meeting to tell us that, in fact, we would notice our paychecks had been cut by 5%. I found it most amazing.  I’ve taught classes teeming with 41 kids packed into normal-sized classrooms as the budget wheeled further into chaos.  Who knows what will happen to the money I’ve saved in the state retirement fund.

I’ve been angry and frustrated before, sure, but I’ve never considered striking. Why? I suppose because I’ve known for a long time that the State of California is in a deep financial crisis and because I’d rather see education cut than say. . . medical services to people who can’t afford them.  Education is fundamental, but it’s not an immediate life or death decision.   I don’t like it either, but I don’t think striking is going to get my students a better education.  And I also don’t think it’s going to get me a more secure job or a higher salary.

Sometimes I think maybe I’m being a pushover.  Compared to the French, I certainly have been. These are people who know how to fight for their rights.  I probably have  a thing or two to learn from them, but still, the thought of going on strike seems completely foreign to me.

Today’s French strike in education is due to government cutbacks on the number of teachers.  No one has been laid off, but fewer retirees are being replaced and class sizes are growing.  In addition, the teachers trained to help students with learning disabilities and handicaps are being funneled into regular teaching positions so that less help is given to students with special needs.  Yes, teachers certainly have more on their plates and students are suffering.

Still, DH would rather not strike.  It will cost us 75 euros a day, and it he thinks it won’t bring about the change he’d like to see. Striking–at least in the education system–has become increasingly ineffective in France.  When the government is in trouble and the money simply isn’t there, it’s hard to quibble about class sizes.  Besides, the teachers unions have a tendency to strike without effectively communicating why they’re doing it–in my humble opinion and in DH’s too.

While the teachers have good cause to strike, the people whose children are sent home are left reeling and scrambling for a safe place for them to go without even understanding the teacher’s reasons for striking in the first palce. In fact, teachers in France have lost a lot of credibility in recent years due to prolonged strikes that parents and students simply could not understand.

When everyone is hurting financially, it seems to me that there are better ways of dealing with the problem than turning kids away from school.  But maybe I simply haven’t lived in France long enough to absorb the cultural institution of the strike.  Perhaps it is an acquired taste.

Unemployed and loving it–Am I some kind of loser?

Apparently some of my family members think so.

In the 48 hours after I arrived on US soil, I was called a ‘loser’ twice.  On both occasions, concerned family members had just asked about my progress with getting a job and my driver’s license in France.  As I’ve decided to try to be as open and honest as possible about my efforts to downshift, I replied with the whole truth.  I told them that I haven’t found work or passed my driving test in France, but that I’m enjoying the time without working and driving more than I ever imagined possible.

That’s when the looser remark slipped into the conversations–both times.

A photo I took recently of one of the cheerful government offices I've visited in my search for work.

Would I have met with such a reaction if I’d said tearfully that life was so hard, that I was miserable without work–that I couldn’t survive without it? I’ve tried to recollect the last time I ever heard of someone who expressed fear and sorrow at not finding a job called a looser–such a response to a jobless and worried individual sounds pretty callous and inappropriate to me.

I’m not a mind-reader, but I suspect that my crime in this case was maintaining a positive outlook in this situation and admitting that I’m enjoying myself. It’s not as if I’ve been living for years without working and mooching off society or am somehow unable to function in the world.  I suppose everyone is entitled to their opinion, but I don’t think my behavior qualifies me as a looser–then again, I’m hardly an expert .

I’ve been without a paycheck for just 2.5 months and without a license for a little over 3 months.  During that time, I’ve moved forward on both fronts, studying for the horrific French license test and researching degree equivalencies, how to start a business, and yes, even applying for a few jobs.  I had already socked enough of money away during my crazy working days to cover us in the event that DH and I slip into the red while I’m still looking for work.

We can afford to work towards our dream of  creating a meaningful, simple life in France for a very long time without being a burden to anyone. I wouldn’t call someone a looser for that.  In fact, I felt much more like a loser when I spent all my time and energy in jobs I didn’t quite believe in and came home so stressed and exhausted that I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.

Perhaps my behavior is threatening because it’s such a departure from my standard reactions in the past.  Again, I don’t know what makes people tick but my recent behavior may be shocking to my family.  The last time I moved to France, I went straight out and found work within weeks of settling into our apartment.  I was either working, looking for work or learning to drive most of the time– workaholic that I was . (Or am? Does one ever fully recover from being a workaholic?)  I reacted to the unknown situation of living in a ‘foreign’ country with quite a bit of stress and by amping up my activity levels to a near frantic pace! I recall living in a rather miserable state most of the time–this is the person my family knows.

Even while in the States, the last two times I received word that I possibly faced a layoff at work, I found a new job before my current employer could even make a final decision and left without waiting to see what would ultimately happen.  In the past, I’ve been quite serious about always having a job.  I don’t ever recall being called a “loser” during any of these times in which I was actively making myself sick with worry at the prospect of losing my job.   I’m beginning to think that being sick with worry is somehow viewed positively not just by a few outspoken family members, but by a number of people in our society.

This time around, I’ve decided to take it slower, to enjoy the odd moment of being unemployed while it lasts (and as long as it lasts–if the economy turns out to be a huge impediment in the New Year. Regardless of any name calling, I am going  to take my time getting my French driver’s license too– instead of living in a constant state of stress about things beyond my control.  Why not? Stressing, spinning my wheels frantically and making myself miserable won’t help me get a job.  I believe I can find a livelihood and resolve my transportation issues just as effectively without freaking out.  I’m under no moral obligation to worry myself sick.

I’m not going to bother to get upset or miserable about being called a looser either--although I certainly considered it at first.  (Hey, I’m not a zen master, ok!) Of course,  I prefer not to be called a looser–as a matter of fact, I think I could live without being called names at all.

I can’t know for sure what prompted recent name calling episodes in my family–it could be anything from a failed attempt at humor to a personal issue I know nothing about.  Although, it’s made me reflect on what threatens the people around me the most,  it’s not worth taking personally.  However, since I’m working on being open and honest about my efforts at downshifting regardless of pressure to the contrary, I  did explain why I though my attitude towards the situation before me was perfectly healthy and functional from my perspective.

Why not make the best of moments without work?

Making your own pottery: does it fit the frugal and simple lifestyle?

My reasons for learning to craft my own pottery had nothing  to do with being frugal.   I love anything that requires me to get my hands dirty and spend hours focused on shapes and structure–I actually prefer to knead my own bread.  The bread machine takes away all that gooey fun.   On the few occasions where I’d previously been able to work with clay, I found the experience to be deeply satisfying–nearly meditative.

My very first piece: an experiment with colors that comes in handy as a sugar pot.

I also love the fact that I am starting to understand more about the way in which things can be made by hand, including lamps, to pitchers, food storage jars and cookware.  I find that learning to make useful objects allows my brain to work in different ways.

And I’ve always wanted to have a ‘craft’ of my own.  My family comes from a distant religious background very similar to that of the Amish.   Clearly, since I have a computer and drink wine, I do not observe the old order practices!  I do consider the history of my family to be my heritage, however.

I remember taking a trip back east when I was young and discovering that many family members still observed one tradition: they practiced a craft or a trade.  For me, pottery is my way of reaching back to this tradition–something I never quite managed to do before we moved to France.

I currently pay to use a pottery workshop which supplies materials and supplies.  A local potter runs the studio.  She shows beginners a few techniques and then lets us work as we choose, answering any questions, giving advice and helping out with the different machinery.  Pottery is a complex task that I think is best learned through experience under the watchful eye of an expert.  So, to me, this set up is fantastic for now.

The monthly cost of my attempts to master pottery techniques?  70 euros a month, a fair price that allows the artisan to make a living.  Still, for us, 70 euros a month represents quite a bit of money.  It’s more than our electricity bill or our internet and cell phones put together.  In fact, it is higher than our ‘entertainment’ budget.  I don’t believe making pottery saves us money, even though we use what I make, we could have also found similar items used for much less.

But saving money is not the always the point, is it?  My grandfather used to work with wood.  I’m sure some of the pieces he made us as we were growing up could have been bought for far less had they been made in China.  These pieces however, like my tiny rocking chair, my brothers’ toy cars, the spinning tops, or the hope chest my grandfather built me remain priceless family possessions to this day:  they will certainly be with us for generations.

I can’t continue to pay a studio fee forever.  For now, I’m learning the ins and outs of pottery, gaining knowledge of various techniques and deciding what areas interest me the most.  Perhaps in a year or two, I’ll discover that I’ve had my fill of ceramics and move onto something new.   Or maybe, I’ll decide that ceramics has to be a part of my long term plans.

Just in case, I’m already researching ways to build your own kiln.  People have been making pots since the dawn of civilization–I’m sure that I can discover a way to keep the tradition in my own life should I decide that’s what’s on my plate.

Coming home: an experiment in honesty about our simple life.

As strongly as I believe in our choices to live with less and our movement towards sustainability, I’ve become increasingly aware of a troubling habit of mine.  I tend to avoid discussing our efforts to live on less with people I think may look down on me or disagree with me.  I have no problem at all going against the grain with my lifestyle, being different from everyone else or questioning common assumptions.  No one’s opinion can make me change a lifestyle I know to be right.

A hike in the Alps is a great place to mull things over.

But ask me to voice that to someone who disagrees with me and I choke.  For me, action is easy.  Standing up for my actions with words, especially during conversations with friends and family who don’t understand–that’s hard.

In a discussion that followed  a recent post titled How to life with less–without the embarrassment, Tracy pointed out an important fact: it’s much easier to pull off a major downshift or simplify your life if you pick up and move to a new country.  I knew she was right as soon as I read it and have been mulling over that idea since she made her comment, especially in light of my current visit home to Southern California.

Leaving familiar surroundings, friends, family, acquaintances means escaping a substantial amount of pressure–whether it is overt or more subtle.  It insulates you from pressure and pulling who expect you to act in a certain  way.

I’m not saying that communities always impede personal change knowingly and purposefully. I’m simply saying that community and, frankly, human nature seems to push for conformity whether subtly or overtly. We use all manner of spoken and unspoken rules in our relationships with others.

Breaking those habits and rules means bringing attention on yourself and sometimes it means rocking the boat for others.  It’s much easier to depart from social norms when you’ve moved to a new place and don’t have close conections–as is the case for DH and I in our new village.

These last few months, DH and I have made some major changes in our diet, spending, use of transportation and attitude towards work–all without having to explain ourselves nearly as much as if we’d tried to implement such change without a change of scenery.

By hiding my intentions, my reasons, my actions or my lifestyle from the people around me, I am refusing to stand up for some of my most profound convictions.  I would consider it immoral not to express my dissent if someone makes a racist remark or a homophobic remark.  If I didn’t expressly resist this kind of thinking every time I ran across it, I would feel  implicit in something very, very wrong.    The same has to hold true of my willingness to discuss and defend my choice to move toward living a sustainable life: one that will allow our planet and our humanity to continue intact for future generations.   To me, this is the critical issue of our times.

My plan for my current visit home has been to take the following steps to be more open about our choices:

• Tell all my friends and family members about this blog. Many know already, but there are a few I didn’t tell: basically anyone who would disagree or think I was crazy.
• Say how I think about hot button issues like not working, not driving, spending less and not accumulating clutter–to name a few examples.
• Engage in disagreements.  I tend to change the subject when a topic of profound disagreement comes up and keep the subject light and happy.  I’m not going to do this anymore.

I haven’t been home long enough to see how this experiment will ultimately work out.  I’m not sure if it will cause more arguments, honest discussions, general discomfort or an increased sense of engagement.  I do know, however, that regardless of the reactions of others to my decision to be more forthcoming about what I think, that it is the right thing to do.  Regardless of the fallout, I can’t back down from what I know is right.

Does air travel cost too much?

Ten years ago, I felt like the world was a place I could skip around with ease. I had finished my studies and no longer had to eat top ramen at the end of every week when the real food ran out. Suddenly, I had a disposable income and the luxury of travel. In fact, I plunged myself into so many travels, that they began to seem not so much a luxury, but a permanent—if not fantastic—part of the modern world.

Of course, it was not nearly as permanent as it seemed, and huge swaths of the global population will probably never have the opportunity to travel by plane. Still, it took the economic recession, the looming specter of peak oil and our current environmental uncertainties for me to realize just how ephemeral picking up and flying to another continent really is. I now limit my flights to visiting friends and family—and I’m wondering how long even these visits will be sustainable. How long will I be able to justify burning around the planet in airplanes . . . will it simply be unaffordable someday in financial or environmental terms?

Yesterday (well, at some point in the recent past, my concept of time is still completely whacked!) I boarded a plane and flew half way around the world. The carbon footprint, the cost –and let’s not forget the hassle and discomfort of air travel–fly in the face of my efforts to live frugally, simply and at less cost to the environment. Why do I do it?

Because I haven’t found another solution I can live with. Usually I’d say I just haven’t found one yet. This time, I’m not so sure I have an idea on the horizon either.

Usually, when I see a change towards living more simply or ecologically as a sacrifice, my first reaction is to wrack my brain for a clever way of avoiding the sacrifice altogether. I’ve found creative solutions to other sticking points as we’ve downshifted. A do-it-yourself solution to air travel, however, hardly seems feasible.

As for the alternatives, I know people who cover the globe slowly by boat, on bike or on foot. While I marvel at these expeditions and wouldn’t mind undertaking one myself some day for the experience of traveling slowly, none of these means seems like a practical way to visit my family each year.

When I can’t avoid sacrifice, I try to remind myself that the world is always changing and that change in circumstances we’re attached to is not always the same as catastrophic loss. Usually, this approach works very well for me. Not seeing my family at least once a year, however, still seems like a serious sacrifice to me. Maybe in time I’ll change my mind. But I’d be lying if I said I thought it would happen anytime soon.

This is exactly the kind of situation that reminds me to be patient with others (so that I can be patient with myself!). It might make me mad every time I see someone driving a Hummer (oh, and it does!), but presumably, the person in the Hummer is holding on to a comfort, a perceived need*, a remnant of a former lifestyle that is no longer sustainable for some reason. And rational or not, that reason is powerful enough to keep the person from changing.

(*Unless, of course, the person needs the Hummer for driving over unsure terrain in a war and not to a parking garage in Southern California—in which case, the Hummer is an actual need. . . In much the same way the driver of a gas-guzzler clings to what he or she knows, I’m still clinging to air travel. For anyone who has found solutions to the question of travel when living far from family, I’d love to hear any ideas you have!)

In much the same way the driver of a gas-guzzler clings to what he or she knows, I’m still clinging to air travel.
For anyone who has found solutions to the question of travel when living far from family, I’d love to hear any ideas you have!  I’m worried that I already know the solution to the problem and that I simply don’t like it.  Sometimes downshifting actually is hard!

Encore! Wearing it again in France

Imagine this:  you come home from work, carefully hang the clothes you wore yesterday over a chair and change into something more comfortable. After all, your clothes are expensive and fashionable–why wear them around the house?  The next day, the alarm wakes you, you yawn, stretch and grab the sassy outfit  you carefully laid aside yesterday (yep that same one, what? you like it!).  You put it back on, have your coffee and you’re off.   And just maybe, if you don’t work up a sweat, you do the whole simplified routine again tomorrow. . .Of course, of course–you change your underwear and undershirt!  You shower!  You’re not a slob.

Winter coats in a window.

So, what do you think?  Anyone willing to try that at home?

Having been a high school teacher in California, I can attest to the fact that I could not have envisioned the above scenario in public education.   Even less so in my former life in an office.  Anyone out there have a different experience?  Well, if you live and work in France, you probably do!

I have long noticed that the French tend to dress with a little more . . . flare than Americans.  I’m not just talking about fashion sense, per se.  The French tend to be more daring dressers.  They buy more unusual pieces of clothing.  In France,  shopkeepers have actually discouraged me from buying clothing that can go with everything.

“C’est dommage!” they say,  “C’est vraiment . . . classique.”

Window shopping.

Too bad to buy classics that go with everything and are never outdated?  Really?  Apparently so, if you are French.

In the States–at least in my experience–you need non-descript clothes that you can wear maybe more than once in a week in different outfits so as not to give the same impression of wearing the same thing over and over.  In France, it’s really no problem. So why not buy the unusual, the flamboyant?  You’re going to wear it several days a week anyway, and at that rate, it actually might give way before the next fashion trend. (At which point you may not want to be caught dead in it!  But that’s another story.)

Ok, ok, I don’t buy fashion trends here at all.  Three years ago I saw other women in their thirties strolling around town with high heels, short shorts, opaque black tights and poofy hair.  Now everyone has those long, black leggings and poofy skirts from the 80’s that look like something you could parachute with and long, straight hair–  Not for me, thanks!

But give me societal permission to wear the same outfit several days in a row–provided it’s not dirty, smelly or wrinkled.  I’ll run with that!

Before writing this post, I decided that I shouldn’t just base my information on observation alone–that’s a bit unfair to do as a cultural outsider, I think.  So I waited for an opportunity to discuss it with someone I know (someone who wouldn’t be offended at the question!)

When I spoke to my husband’s aunt–a professional woman deep in her career and well aware of fashion trends–the conversation went something like this (rough translation):

Me:  So, I’ve noticed that in France, it seems ok to wear the same outfit more than one day at work. . .

DH’s Aunt (Surprised, shocked):  Well?

Me:  Uh, well, I was just making sure, you see . . . because in the States you can’t really do that.

DH’s Aunt (stopps walking, right in her tracks, laughs!):  No!  That’s ridiculous.

She was completely taken aback by our strange ritual of wearing a different outfit each day.

I’ve heard it said that being at home in a culture means knowing that culture well enough to know which of its values you uphold and which you reject.  I think that in my case, I can accept whole-heartedly wearing the same outfit several days in a row and washing it when it’s dirty.  Although accepting some of the outrageous fashion trends–well, that’s another story!

Note:

Shoes anyone?

I’m not afraid to admit that I am far from an expert on fashion in any country–so I welcome comments and observations from those with more knowledge than I have.  I’m also curious to know if anyone has been able to discover with any certitude WHY it is taboo to wear the same clothes to work two days in a row?  The best theory I’ve heard so far is that–back in the day–wearing the same thing twice made people assume you’d slept at someone else’s place the night before. . . I’m not satisfied that’s the reason though.  Anyone?

Life without work and the incredible shrinking wardrobe.

Fashion impaired since 1976! I should have a pin that says that.

I’m not naturally fashion savvy, and I’m totally unmotivated to learn.  I went to college near Seattle during the ‘grunge’ years, did my shopping at thrift stores and raided my brothers’ closets.  During my professional phase I sought the help of others in terms of attire (after getting the hairy eyeball from colleagues and students over rumpled and mis-matched clothes).  One saleswoman once showed me an area of the store that had ‘geranimals for adults’–apparently, it would be impossible to NOT match and the clothes were ‘wrinkle resistant.’  Excellent–if not entirely foolproof.   But even better than finding help dressing professionally is not having to dress professionally at all!

Here I am wearing my baking, cleaning, hiking, running outfit--again.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized I no longer have to pretend to care about professional appearance. I have three basic outfits these days: good long underwear and fleece clothing for sleeping and seated activities like this blog, lighter sweats for housework, cooking and outdoor exercise like hiking or biking and  jeans or cords with a sweater for everything else.  It makes organizing my makeshift closet much easier.

The drawback to this wardrobe?  Sometimes when I go out to exercise, I have dirty knees from getting down on the floor and scrubbing or flour all over me from my last baking expedition.  I can live with that.

This system is perfect for anyone who hates to shop or pick out clothes each morning. I have fewer clothing options and stick to very basic items that match other things easily.  The best part about the work-at-home wardrobe is that everything I have works with comfortable shoes!  That alone feels like a revolution. Sore, deformed feet on women are one of the tragedies of the modern work world.

I hope to find a way never, never to be forced to wear something I don’t feel like wearing (or to buy something I don’t feel like buying!) ever again.  The simple freedom from spending my precious time shopping and my hard-earned money on work clothes is motivation enough to find a simpler career.

But what to do with all those professional clothes?

I still have the vestiges of my work days, and I have to say, I’m not ready to give them up just yet.  I have them carefully packed away in dust-proof bags because the only thing more annoying than having to wear professional attire again would be to have to buy professional attire again!  It’s surprising how many of my clothes were NOT something I would choose to wear on the weekend or just around the house.  I’m constantly pulling things out of the closet that I never wear now that I no longer go to work.

I‘ve decided to give myself a year to see if I can find a way to earn money that doesn’t force me to wear an impractical uniform that makes me feel not quite myself. After that year, if I find I can really do without the professional attire, I’m going to donate any items I won’t wear again.  In our village, we have clothing donation bins right next to the recycle bins, so that will be simple.  Anything that’s too ratty or worn out will go into my ’scrap pile’ as something I can use for crafts or rags or whatever comes to mind.

I look forward to the day I send the work clothes on their way!  I’ll keep you posted.

Tomorrow’s topic:  Encore!  Wearing it again in France. (I’ve been looking forward to this one.)