In Which The Mayoress Considers What Really Matters

I was so happy to stumble on this article in yesterday's Times, ironically, as I was having a stoop sale getting rid of my surplus stuff:

On the bright side, the practices that consumers have adopted in response to the economic crisis ultimately could — as a raft of new research suggests — make them happier. New studies of consumption and happiness show, for instance, that people are happier when they spend money on experiences instead of material objects, when they relish what they plan to buy long before they buy it, and when they stop trying to outdo the Joneses.


This has certainly been hitting me lately, during my year of figuring out what matters to me versus what everyone else is doing with their lives.  




On Friday at the gym I happen to pay too much for, I caught the hoarder home makeover episode of Oprah and the organizational expert guest put it into just the right words to hit me, hard: "Do you own your stuff or does your stuff own you?"  Queue weekend of selling off all those books just gathering dust, clothes I haven't worn in years or just don't feel great wearing, and kitchen items that just take up shelf space.  I felt spiritually lighter just pulling stuff out of closets, had a fantastic time simply sitting outside all day Saturday (thanks Pam & Alicia!), and made some money to boot.  Funny how when you sell items for a dollar each, each dollar you spend carries more weight.  I needed to remember that.


A friend was recently asking my advice on leaving her lucrative job to consult, because she could make more money.  Note that this is the friend who makes the most money in my entire social group, and with a relatively low cost of living.  I outlined all the less-fun stuff about being a consultant versus a full-time employee, and pointed out, "How much money do you actually need?"  Just as it came out of my mouth, I realized I hadn't actually asked myself the same question.


Is making more money in itself a worthy pursuit?  What is it affording that is actually, tangibly important to your quality of life?  When I imagine someone saying to a group of peers that they want or need more in other material areas, it sounds ridiculous to the point of nauseating.  What if we applied this need to increase what's already probably fine in other areas? "I really think I can make it to 80 pairs of shoes by the time I'm 35," or "We only have sex four times a week, I'm really worth seven," or [insert any statement about being thinner than average].


Take my endless apartment hunt.  Popular advice is to shell out a few more dollars to live in a nicer area.  And I get that.  But knowing myself, I'll feel a certain icky-ness if I'm living outside my means, and locked into a lease perpetuating it.  I'd rather have the freedom than a couple less subway stops to get home.


In a city like New York, which Eliz Gilbert shrewdly labeled "Ambition" in her describe-the-city-in-one-word game in That Book Whose Movie Is Already Overadvertised and It's Not Even Out Yet, where one encounters the very rich and the very poor on a daily basis, you'd think it would be easier to have perspective.  And it should be.  But it's also too easy to find new Joneses to keep up with.  Your sense of self has to be that much stronger to stay focused and grounded - not always easy, but the worthiest of pursuits.