From the Introduction

My grandmother’s tights used to last forever. They were so strong, people could tow cars with them, and did! Granny got two pairs—­one to wash and one to wear. But then, the manufacturers decided to change the way their stockings were made, and not for the better. So today, when I reach for a pair of tights, it’s like playing panty hose roulette. Which pair will tear this morning?
It may not seem like a crisis to have a drawer stuffed with compromised hosiery, but I see it as a very small glimpse into a much larger problem. Our houses, our whole lives, have become stuffed full of things that let us down, causing our stress levels to skyrocket and our bank accounts to empty. But it’s precisely because these things are poorly made, or just a fad, that we are perversely compelled to buy more of them.

But couldn’t life be different? What if we decided to surround ourselves with beautiful, well-­made objects that lasted forever, instead of “for now” things that soon need replacing?

That was the seed of an idea that came to me in 2013. Before then, I was a dues-­paying, card-­carrying member of the impulse-­shopper club who never questioned the things I bought. I’d always been a spendthrift; my mother says that as a child it never much mattered how much pocket money I was given, I was always broke. And this behavior carried on into adulthood. Once I’d decided I wanted something, I “needed” it right away, and so my life and home became filled with stuff that was “almost but not quite right.” Longevity wasn’t one of my criteria, so I owned temporary things, poorly thought-­through and soon-­regretted clothes or hobby and fitness equipment bought in fits of short-­lived enthusiasm.

My habitual impulse-buying eventually led to excessive credit-­card debt, leaving me feeling out of control, childish, and angry with myself. I would come home to a chronically cluttered house, which was exhausting to tidy or clean, and stare blankly at my piles of fast-­fashion clothes, wondering why I felt I had nothing to wear.

Like many people, I was stumbling through life believing that “when this happens or when I have that, then I’ll be happy.” Without a clear sense of self, I’d unconsciously mold my character into whatever I thought my partners wanted me to be. When my last relationship failed, therefore, I felt so lost, I had to spend some time on antidepressants. With my thirties looming, I felt as though I’d screwed up my life and chucked it away like a used tissue.

At the same time, I’d managed to fall into the moral wasteland that is the advertising world. My job was now to write ads for some of the world’s biggest brands, trying to persuade people like me to buy more stuff, whether they needed it or not. A few years ago, while on vacation, I had a full-­on breakdown in front of my friends; and in the plane restroom on the way home, I looked in the mirror and vowed to make a change. I just wasn’t sure what that change would be.

The change came in the form of a pot—­a baby-­blue Le Creuset Dutch oven given to me for my thirtieth birthday. It came with a reputation for lasting for generations, and when I held it, it just felt like an heirloom. It was startlingly beautiful, and I reflected that owning it meant I potentially never had to buy another one again. “If only everything in my life were like this,” I thought.

Enthused, I set out to find more objects that I would never have to replace—­objects that would work with me and grow old with me; beautiful, classic objects worth committing to and taking care of.

I assumed there’d be a website that sold a collection of lifetime products, but when I went looking for one, it didn’t exist. “Maybe I could be the one to build it,” I dared to think.

I had zero web-­design skills, but the more I thought about it, the more powerful the idea seemed. If this website could release people from the constant pressure to renew and replace, it might solve some of the biggest problems the world was facing. It would ease the clutter, unhappiness, and debt that came with overconsumption; lessen the environmental impact of our throwaway society; and save us all money in the long term.

I started to make changes in my own life and uncovered the surprising practical and emotional benefits that come with choosing to bring only those objects into your life that reflect your values and will be with you for decades to come.

I knew that if I didn’t at least try to build the website, I’d always regret it. So in 2015, I started BuyMeOnce.com, and began hunting for lifetime items in my spare time. I cut my salary in half and lived on minimum wage so I could split my time between my day job and building my business.

Painfully slowly, and after several false starts, the site started to come together. It was very basic and had no means of making money, and I had no idea if anyone would ever visit it. Most likely, I thought, it would remain a lonely result on the sixth page of a Google search.

Then, in 2016, miraculously and quite unexpectedly, the world found it. The site went viral, thousands of e-­mails flooded in, BuyMeOnce was featured in almost every major newspaper in the United Kingdom and I was suddenly being asked to be on TV in America. I hadn’t realized it, but I had tapped into something that people all around the world were feeling. They were tired of our throwaway culture.

By this stage, my life had completely turned around. My spending was under control because I was living by my newfound philosophy. Sadly, I hadn’t morphed into a “naturally” tidy person, but after giving away more than half my wardrobe and countless boxes of clutter, any mess I made was easily dealt with in a couple of minutes. Owning items I loved for the long term also meant I naturally started caring for them better and lost things less frequently. I’d also stopped worrying about keeping up with the Joneses, and reconnected with the person I really was. This, together with doing something I truly believed in, had raised my self-­worth and allowed me to enter into a relationship based on a joyful connection rather than neediness. I had found my best friend, and now husband—­a kind, funny, bespectacled man who makes me happier than I had imagined possible.

I now have the opportunity to share with you what I believe is a life-­enhancing way of thinking and behaving. My hope is that this book can be helpful on a personal level and, if it falls into the hands of enough people, helpful to the planet.