Shopping in Grief
After a miscarriage, clearing my closet of aspirational purchases helped me grieve and make peace with my current reality
By Erin Desrochers D’Agostino
The other day, I knew that I had a Zoom presentation where I was going to have my camera turned on. After a recent wardrobe purge, I made a promise to myself to spend less time choosing an outfit. With this in mind, I selected a loose fitting, short-sleeve navy polo sweater, comfy distressed jeans, and small gold hoop earrings. But today, I took longer than I wanted to decide what I wanted to wear. I had a trip to Target planned to get cat litter and the weather was sunny and spring-like, providing the opportunity for a pleasant post-work-from-home walk. After deliberating, I selected a thrifted beige cotton button-down with distressed jeans and a necklace with a stone charm that I hadn’t worn in a very long time.
“I could go on about all the purchases I made, but they all had one thing in common; they were all aspirational purchases that were for a life I imagined in my future.”
While I’ve streamlined my closet and want to deliberate less over what to wear, I miss planning outfits for “being seen,” whether that means going to the office or perhaps spending a Saturday out with my mom. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the opportunity to work from home and I’m happy my parents are comfortably retired 2,000 miles away. But I guess I didn’t realize how much my style was part of my identity until the pandemic struck. As I sit here now, reflecting on my life since March 2020, I can see how profoundly my approach to personal style has changed. Unsurprisingly, this change reflects the considerable shift in my life that has taken place since then.
Historically, I had always had an interest in fashion. I’m soft-spoken and have often struggled in social situations. Wearing something interesting was a way for me to display that I was a creative and interesting person without having to say much. I would say around 2018, I made the shift from buying clothes at H&M, Target, and whatever clearance rack I could find to buying better quality (still fast fashion) new clothes with some second-hand pieces thrown in the mix. This more or less coincided with getting a better-paying job and going down a pant size. I felt better about my body after joining a local OrangeTheory. With these changes, I thought I would spend less time thinking about clothes and buying less. I wanted to be a more conscious consumer. At the same time though, I had a lifelong habit of shopping for clothes when I was bored, stressed, or anxious. I don’t remember exactly when in my life I picked up this habit, but I think I took for granted how difficult it was going to be to break it.
“When I found myself exhausted, bored or anxious about the future, I resorted to online shopping.”
Unfortunately, I could not shake the emotional shopping habit even if I was buying better quality stuff. I had finished graduate school and moved with my husband to a town outside the city. I got a full-time librarian gig much closer to home. Along with earning more money, I now had a ton of free time and I didn’t know what to do with myself. After years of travelling, working different jobs, getting married, and going to grad school, I felt as though my life had slammed to a standstill. Most of my friends were having children at this point, and though I didn’t admit this to anyone, I felt a pang every time I saw a pregnancy announcement.
To quiet the noise in my head and to calm my anxiety, I did two things. The first was to try to fill my free time. Along with working out at the gym, I decided to take up long-distance running. Once a month, I would travel two hours and spend the weekend with my parents. Any day spent hanging with my husband and cats on the couch felt like a day wasted. I would often pace around the living room. But I was also exhausted.
The second thing I did, when I found myself exhausted, bored or anxious about the future, was to resort to online shopping. I would find myself grabbing my phone and bringing up the Madewell or eShakti website with hardly a thought. I would see something I liked and then the daydreaming started. These daydreams might consist of me wearing this new article of clothing to work, appearing super competent while being on the receiving end of compliments. Or perhaps it was a sunny Saturday and I was going to spend the day out with friends. Maybe I would go on a date with my husband when we both had the energy. And then, I would convince myself I had to have the garment. This item of clothing was integral to making my daydreams a reality. After the purchase, I would then tell myself that this would be it for a while. Only to have the pattern repeat itself a week later.
In April 2020, a month after the pandemic began, I still found myself occasionally online shopping, but I was also relishing in the freedom I now had. Sure, it felt weird not having to pick an outfit for the day. But this was temporary, right? I reveled in not having to commute to work, knowing that my job was secure and remote for the foreseeable future. I didn’t have access to the gym, and since I wasn’t waking up at 5 a.m. to get in some exercise, I found myself with a ton more energy. I used it to take up at-home yoga and tackle some home improvement projects. My parents sold the house I grew up in in Rhode Island and prepared to move to Arizona where they were able to buy a house near my brother and his family. I found myself relieved rather than sad since the pandemic had introduced so many unknowns. My longing for a child subsided when I saw my friends struggling with balancing their careers and homeschool. Then a couple of months later, I found out I was pregnant.
After the initial shock and panic, I let myself feel joy and excitement. Maybe this was perfect timing. I tried not to get ahead of myself too early in the pregnancy, but I really believed that this was the big shift I was waiting for in my life. It would be something to fill up my time and then some. I no longer had a desire to shop for clothes, though I did sometimes peek at maternity clothing offerings and imagined how I would look when I started showing. At my first ultrasound appointment, we discovered that either the embryo didn’t develop or my cycle was off. An appointment was made for 10 days later to determine which it was, but the miscarriage started right before the follow-up appointment. I’ll spare you the details of how awful I felt. The first thing I bought afterwards was a pair of denim overalls. Something that wouldn’t cling to my midsection but still looked cute and interesting. I knew I was reverting to old habits, buying something to make me feel better, but I figured I could allow myself to make the purchase without guilt given what I had gone through.
A month later, I accompanied my mom as she drove across the country to move to Arizona. I remained there for a couple of weeks, where I indulged in some shopping. I just went through something horrific, so it was OK. Right? I bought a pair of black pleather pants that looked great on me. I daydreamed about opportunities to wear them out once it was safe to do so. I also bought a plaid blazer. Great for when I’m back in the office and want to look cute and competent at the same time. Once I returned to Massachusetts, all bets were off when it came to clothes shopping. I scoured Poshmark and ThredUp looking for interesting second-hand finds. I succumbed to a vintage green and purple print blazer. Did I own anything that matched? Did it matter? Maybe I now had an excuse to buy items that would match it.
I could go on about all the purchases I made, but they all had one thing in common: They were all aspirational purchases that were for a life I imagined in my future. Something to help me forget about my current reality in which I wasn’t going to be a parent, didn’t have my parents nearby anymore, and didn’t have many opportunities to venture out where others could see what I wore. I became increasingly frustrated when I would open my closet to decide what sweatshirt to wear for the day. My closet and bureau were becoming filled with things that I wasn’t wearing. When my anxiety flared up, I would make small purges and bring items to a local consignment store in an attempt to make my closet less chaotic.
Things came to a head a couple of months ago. I was deliberating whether or not I wanted to pursue fertility assistance and at the same time, I found myself inconsolable, mourning the life I once had with my family nearby and when my husband and I were younger with more energy. The cherry on top was when I suddenly developed gastrointestinal symptoms including but not limited to indigestion, major bloating, and persistent diarrhea. On one particular day, spurred on by both seeing a barrage of social media posts of people showing off their children and frustrated by not being able to eat anything that wasn’t beige, I opened my closet. I surveyed the results of my aspirational and emotional shopping and felt an immense wave of shame.
“I returned to my closet and asked myself point blank, ‘What can I wear and enjoy now?’”
Where was I going to wear half these things? The return to the office was going to be gradual and casual, and I knew in my heart that I wasn’t going to reach for a lot of the dressier stuff I was hoarding. I sometimes wore the bolder items in my closet out of obligation because I owned them, but I recognized that I preferred wearing more muted colors. In my agitated state, I made some hard and fast choices and quickly shoved a bunch of items in plastic bags. I didn’t want to wait to have these items sold. I wanted them out of my sight and out of my mind, so I immediately drove to the closest donation center and dropped them off. It hurts to admit this, but included in this bunch was that lovely vintage blazer, a super adorable wide-collared cotton poplin shirt that I paid full price for, and a lovely pink and orange print wrap top that was just too bright for my tastes.
This brings me to now. I knew I never wanted to get to that point again, so a few things happened. First, I went back on antidepressants. I needed to get my anxiety under control. I then learned to accept that my life was just never going to be the same. When I think about the foreseeable future, I see lots of cat cuddling, book reading, and TV watching. There will be local hikes and occasional visits to my family in Arizona. I will eventually return to the office where I will still be deliberate with my outfit choices, but I want more overlap between my work wardrobe and my everyday wardrobe. And yes, there may be the occasional opportunity to venture out, look cute, and be seen.
So I returned to my closet and asked myself point blank, “What can I wear and enjoy now? Can I see something I like and not start daydreaming about these hypothetical situations where I could wear it and succumb to buying it? Can I nail down a personal style that brings me joy, is practical, and isn’t sitting there waiting for some aspirational future?”
Well, I think I did it. I can open my closet and not feel agitated. Even if I occasionally overthink what I should wear on a particular day (like I did today, before my trip to Target), I know that everything I own is true to my life now or the predictable near future. My color palette is mostly muted, with some hints of red here and there. Oh, and lots of stripes. I ended up with button downs, T-shirts, oxfords, straight leg or wide leg jeans, and a couple of dresses that could be styled to wear to work or to a wedding. There are a lot of hints of prep which I think is hysterical given my taste in music (I’ve been on a Nine Inch Nails and Joy Division kick lately) and my general disposition (think resting bitch face and a healthy dose of cynicism). I have some fun jewelry, hats, and scarves. I still insist on wearing pants with a button and zipper most days even though most people I see out are wearing leggings and hoodies (I’m not judging them. I just think getting dressed helps me feel motivated and productive).
I found myself on the internet, window shopping, recently, but it didn’t feel the same. I’m learning to be more content with my life now. I’m reading more and seeking out new movies or TV shows to watch. The weather is getting nicer, so I’m hoping to go on some easy hikes. My GI issues are still here, but I’m learning to manage them and at least they’re not coupled with crippling anxiety. The contentment with my wardrobe and my life that I feel right now is exactly what I was seeking when I made all those emotional purchases. My hope is that next time I encounter a personal setback or deal with loss or trauma, I won’t fall into the trap of aspirational shopping, and later face a wardrobe filled with things I won’t end up wearing. At the same time, I hope I treat myself with kindness no matter what life has in store for me.
Editor: Phoebe Bates | Designer: Kelsey Wolf | Illustrations: British Library on Flickr | Copy Editor: Katie Frankowicz | Communication/Support/Outreach: Meg Chellew
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