Need can be rubbery. Yes, I definitely needed the chunky heel pumps I bought the other day, second-hand but barely worn, in a shade a paint colourist might call cloudy eucalypt, but I probably don't need yet another pair of black trousers, even if I find a pair on sale, as I frequently do. Unless it's to go up a size! (Or maybe down? That would be nice).
But that changed tonight when I watched Bespoke. (I love that word. One must say it just so, like Kevin McCloud, on Grand Designs). But it was that other knit-wearing influencer, Marcus Westbury, Newy's original and accidental hipster, who sealed the deal. Tonight, he took us on the first part of his tour around the country to celebrate the resurgence of makers and artisans who put their love into what they produce. Our local folk featured well - how spoilt we are in the Hunter Street Mall - but Tassie's blacksmiths stole the show. Fire and fury is sexy as hell. (Blacksmiths and butchers - salt of the earth - men you'd marry.)
In any case, I declare, rather than stopping shopping altogether, I will just try to shop closer to home, and closer to homemade. I'm hardly Robinson Crusoe here - but if I say it out loud, I'm more likely to do it. So, no more shopping for things I don't *need*, and only bespoke will enter my home.
Is this an excuse to keep shopping? Probably.
Is this a bad thing? Probably not.
A tiny house is not made overnight (nor a tiny house person), particularly one that is bespoke.