The clothes do not make the man or the woman!

Why do we feel compelled to buy SO MUCH STUFF?

We’ve all done it. In the airport lounge, at school drop-off, or waiting for the dentist to call our name.  we spot someone across the room and instantly think, "Oooh, she looks like my kind of people." Or maybe, "She seems fun, I’d totally grab coffee with her." And then there's the opposite: "Not for me," or "She looks like she'd correct my grammar mid-sentence. We haven’t exchanged a single word. In fact, we’ve probably avoided eye contact like pros. So how are we making these snap judgments? It’s not their height or shoe size, and unless you have X-ray vision, you’re probably not admiring their personality. No, it’s the outfit. The shoes, the jacket, the bag that somehow says “I read the same magazines you do” or “I too have a complicated relationship with Anthropologie.” Like it or not, our shopping habits are how we carve out our personal identities—and how we silently signal to the world, “This is who I am… or at least who I’m trying to be.”

There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. In a chaotic world packed with billions of people and even more distractions, we need ways to signal who we are. To attract people like us.  Shopping just happens to be one of the clearest and most socially accepted ways to do it. Our purchases, intentional or impulsive, become shorthand for our values, our aspirations, our vibe. It’s less about vanity and more about connection. We’re wired to seek common ground, and when we admire someone, we instinctively look for overlaps. If we can’t share a life story with them, maybe we can share a taste in sneakers, or handbags, or home decor. Acquiring the “right” things gives us a sense of belonging—and in some cases, a shortcut to feeling like we’ve got something in common with the people we admire.

We all carry a personal vision of what life should look like, and that vision doesn’t come out of nowhere. It’s carefully shaped by ads, movies, TV shows, and now—more than ever—social media. We see the woman in the Range Rover ad, all glossy hair and perfect lighting, and we think, “Yes. That’s it. That’s the vibe.” She’s stylish, confident, effortlessly cool, and somehow rich but approachable. And suddenly we’re not just admiring her—we’re imagining ourselves as her. Buying the sunglasses or the bag or the car becomes less about the object and more about telling a story. Our story. Or at least, the version of it we’d like the world to see.

How this harms us rather than helps us seems quite obvious once we take a careful look at what is going on here.  We are exposed to thousands of ads per day, each one showing us a different story.  One minute its the skinny elegant blonde in the Range Rover ( I can be that- I just need that car, and those glasses…and that outfit!!! ) and the next minute its the beautiful mama wearing an organic knit sweater over expensive cotton lounge pants, sitting in her minimalist neutral home looking peaceful (oh wait, maybe that is who I want to be! I need that twin set!!  and that white couch and cream wool rug and delicate furniture. ( Never mind I have 4 kids and 2 dogs!! )  This goes on and on all day long on our tv’s our phones, our computers, billboards etc.

Advertisers are so damn good at what they do.  Influencers too! They don’t just show us products, they show us who we can be if we buy those products.  They appeal to our insecurities and our uncertainties and they basically suggest we will never achieve our dreams and goals and cement our identities if we do not buy their product.  So we do.  And not just women or mothers but everyone.  From a very young age.  I need the right sneakers, the right jeans, the right phone, backpack, makeup etc.  Having the right thing is perceived as having a certain lifestyle.  Its a testament to our good taste and our social standing.

And so we acquire and acquire and acquire until we are literally drowning in stuff.  Our houses are overflowing into our garages and storage spaces.  Most of us have so much stuff we don’t actually know what or where most of it is.  And instead of feeling elegant like the range rover lady or calm and peaceful like the perfect mama, we feel stressed out, overwhelmed and out of control.   

But here’s the good news: when we start paying attention to why we’re buying what we’re buying, we can usually slow our roll a bit. With a little awareness, we can trade the cycle of waste and clutter for something that feels a lot more like confidence and calm. And really—do we even want to be just like everyone else? I recently went to a party at my son’s fraternity, and of the 100 girls there, about 75 were wearing basically the same white cowboy boots and eerily similar thigh-high dresses. It was like watching a trend in human form. But as a middle-aged woman watching from the sidelines, it honestly looked…absurd and a bit pathetic.   And don’t get me wrong—I’ve absolutely fallen into the same trap. But seeing it from that angle gave me pause. What message am I really sending with my choices?

It’s that moment—standing in a closet overflowing with bags, shoes, and dresses—where we sigh and think, “I have nothing to wear.” How is that even possible? Often, it’s because of one of two things. First, we’ve bought pieces that looked amazing on someone else but never really felt like us. Maybe it was the friend, the influencer, the mannequin—we thought, “If it works for her, maybe it’ll work for me.” But deep down, we knew it didn’t quite click. And second, we’re living in a world where trends don’t shift with the seasons anymore—they shift with the scroll. In fashion what used to be four collections a year has turned into a dizzying cycle of micro-trends that change weekly, if not daily. The “must-have” item we loved two months ago? Suddenly it feels outdated, even if it still has the tags on. No wonder our closets are crowded and our minds a little foggy.  Instead of feeling like the women in the advertisements, we feel like failures.

The goal here isn’t to swear off shopping or shame ourselves for wanting to look good or feel good—it’s simply to pause.  Ask yourself, “Is this really me? How will this change or improve my life?  Am I buying this for me or am I buying this to shape shift into whom I want others to think I am? Do I even like it? ”   When we buy with intention instead of impulse or from outside influence, we not only start to feel more at home in our clothes and our homes—we feel more at home in ourselves.