There is nothing more torturous than shopping for a pair of jeans—so much that psychologist Barry Schwartz wrote an entire book about it.

In The Paradox of Choice, he describes going to the mall to buy denim, before getting completely overwhelmed by the amount of decisions he had to make before walking into a fitting room. After the salesperson peppered him with questions about his preferred length, rise, wash, and closure (aka button or zip fly), he wondered why we are so anxious in a world where we are free to choose almost everything our heart desires.

I’ll save you the trouble of reading the book, because the gist is—shopping is a miserable experience unless we:

1. Know exactly what we want before stepping foot into a store.
2. Tame the tornado to-do list swirling in our heads while shopping (because no one makes great decisions when they’re overwhelmed with life.)

Which is why I create a capsule wardrobe every season, ask ChatGPT to predict upcoming sales, and order almost everything online. I find this practice encourages me to shop with filters, text my friends for opinions, and cultivate patience for finding items I can keep for years, provided I follow the laundering instructions ; )

Which, for Spring, included a new pair of denim. When a recent promotion at Levi's finally convinced me to order some ankle-length jeans, I remember ripping open the package in anticipation to try them on—and nearly bursting into tears at my reflection in the mirror.

The fabric felt stiff—in a good way, like a pair I would keep for years and would stretch with time as it molds to the contours of my curves.

My husband gave a hearty thumbs up, reassuring me that my backside looked good.

And after spending most of my childhood cuffing my jeans or living with frayed, dirty hems from dragging on the pavement, it felt like a godsend to purchase pants without rushing to the tailor to alter.

And even though my impulse was to go order ten more pairs, I stopped myself.

Because this is exactly what the fashion industry wants—for me to conveniently forget that for over a year, I’ve been battling with a barbell five days a week in the gym.

In other words, that confidence I’m talking about? Has everything to do with me.

Me, who preferred rainy days in the library to going outdoors for recess.

Me, who has used every excuse from "My toe hurts" to "I'm too busy" to avoid physical activity.

Me, who will never turn down a chain restaurant bread basket and definitely inhaled my daughter’s Panda Express chow mein leftovers for lunch yesterday. #worthit

In other words? The jeans are great, but I am the one who drags myself out of bed at 6 am most mornings to contort my body into positions I didn’t even know were possible.

And it's not in capitalism’s interest to tell you otherwise.

Capitalism doesn’t care whether you wear the jeans or they gather dust in your closet as long as you buy more and often.

Let me be clear that I’m not opposed to buying things, considering I just emailed my husband an email with a list of items I’m considering from the Sézane spring catalog, i.e. everything.

But I do believe in mindful purchasing behavior, giving the right credit where it’s due, and casting a critical eye to not just the fashion industry, but everything that’s trying to claim your attention and shape your values.

Like this newsletter, my antidote is still a work-in-progress—but it’s gotten me to a place where I can make peace with all the diet products my well-meaning, non-native English-speaking mother purchased for my chubby, eight-year-old self.

I'll share more next week,

Sophia :)