Why doing a “no buy” year is a bad idea
This year kicked off with a wave of people committing to no-spend months, taking over my YouTube algorithm as I watched in captivated horror. While January has long since come and gone, it’s still on my mind as a trend that I regret gaining popularity.
You see, I had made quite the opposite resolution: I will buy myself one clothing item per month.
I failed that resolution, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make.
At this point you’re wondering - why would a financial blogger be against a “no buy” year? Isn’t saving money always good? How did I end up with a resolution so opposite the general public, determined to spend money on one thing per month while everyone else is attempting to spend nothing?
The answer: I accidentally did something similar to a “no-buy” for two years. It changed my life for better and for worse - but for two years after, I regretted it deeply as I fought to undo the impacts it had on my life.
A quick timeline -
Pre-2020 - I loved shopping, specifically for clothes, makeup, and a bit of skincare. I liked investing, but it was certainly second to fashion in my heart.
2020 - I spent a lot of money on skincare and slowly stopped spending on clothes. I was working remote, so I could wear pajamas during the day and do virtually anything to my face (hello, micro-needling and chemical peels). I’d just leave the camera off and call it a day - something I still fight the urge to do today!
2021 - still remote, I realized how much skincare, makeup, and clothes had cost me prior to 2020 and how little any of it mattered when I hardly left the apartment. I cut these categories out of my life almost entirely, giving my financial attention instead only to things that would grow my net worth.
Somewhere along this slippery slope, I stopped spending almost any money on myself and fell hard into the world of investing. When I came up for air in 2023, I barely recognized myself - literally.
That fashion-loving, makeup-wearing, skincare-experimenting girl was gone. In her place was someone whose shoes were worn down, clothes were faded and threading, skincare was basic, and makeup drawer was empty save the items I bought to do my own wedding makeup in February 2022. For the one self-care activity that I did participate in - going to the gym - I wore my husband’s shirts or free work T-shirts and some workout pants that I had bought sever years earlier.
I was insecure and uncomfortable in everything I wore and in my general appearance, which screamed that I didn’t take care of myself. It was screaming the truth.
I often believe that where we spend our money - the line-items in our budget - reflect what we care about most, what we prioritize. I realized that while my retirement and future self was being taken care of - my current physical and mental well-being were nowhere to be found in my own self-made list of priorities.
I felt off-trend, out-of-place, and as worn out and haggard as my clothes suggested. I didn’t know what to wear for date nights to feel pretty, let alone beautiful. I had built my net worth, but I had lost some of my spark in the process.
What was worse was looking at the things I felt I needed just to get back to basics - from skin-toned strapless bras to replace the only badly misshapen one that I had, to period undies and gym sneakers - the journey ahead felt long and the cost astronomical.
Every month for two years I shelled out all my extra cash to purchase swimsuits with enough coverage to replace skimpy, ill-fitting college swimsuits, basic undergarments, gym-wear, work pants, and more while also trying to regularly buy a small makeup item and some skincare.
I focused on sustainable brands and high-quality items, staying away from fast-fashion and the latest trends. Each clothing item was basic with neutral tones, as I didn’t feel I had the wiggle room for something that wouldn’t mix and match well or be wearable for any occasion.
The pressure was immense - every item had to be perfect. It had to work for a variety of use-cases and it needed to last.
As the months passed by and another boring “maintenance” purchase ate up my funds, I found myself regretting that I let it get this bad. I reflected on the fact that two years of no-buy had left me struggling to catch up.
Maybe worst of all was that, no matter how much I did start to catch up, I couldn’t shake the identity that I’d worn for the past few years - that worn out, frugal, investment-focused person - even though I desperately tried to revive the fun, care-free, and fashion-loving me.
It’s 2025 and I’m still searching for that version of myself. I’m still struggling to allow myself to buy “fun” clothes instead of basic, neutral clothing with more utility and - even more - I’m still battling the allure to buy nothing and throw all that money into stocks instead.
So while I’m not arguing that a no-buy could be, at least in the short-term, good for your money - I am warning that it could be bad for your mental health and for your identity. It could leave you struggling to catch up in the years to come.
While I’ve focused on my experience of clothes, a no-buy can be considered in the context of anything that requires maintenance. Just like a car or house, it’s usually cheaper to maintain your possessions than to wait for a larger problem to happen and then attempt to repair it.
Whatever you aren’t spending this year during your no-buy might just be setting you up for double the expenses next year.
Lastly I’ll say - any time the pendulum swings to any one extreme, we should be cautious. Instead of committing to a no-buy, consider doing a low-buy with rules that protect the things that bring you joy and keep you from falling too far behind.
Balance is usually the key.
Wishing you all well with whatever goals you’re setting, and I hope you enjoyed hearing my perspective on this popular trend. Thanks so much for reading!