No New Stuff | Members aim to avoid buying new things for a year

Right in front of our eyes, Kristin Hyde's furniture is disappearing.

Where she used to have a sofa, all we see is a mountain of jeans. Her two chairs by the window? They've vanished under layers of skirts.

A coffee table has been buried under blazers and dress slacks, and rumor has it an ottoman lurks under that pile of "sporty" stuff — the puffy yellow vest; the shimmering teal cross-country ski suit; and the Victoria's Secret negligee, black with red rosebuds.

"I've never done this before," said Hyde, 39, wondering if her small house can contain the stream of used clothing still coming through the front door. "So I didn't know quite what to expect."

For Hyde, 2007 has been a year of not knowing what to expect, so having two dozen women — most of them strangers — strip to their underwear in her living room at a "clothing swap" to try on pants, skirts and blouses is just one more part of the adventure.

Hyde is the instigator of a loosely formed group trying to go a year buying as few new possessions as possible, and sharing insights on ways to reduce consumption for economic, social and environmental reasons.

"Most American consumers act as if we can have anything we want, anytime, cheaply," she said. "Without thinking about where it came from, how it was made or where it may end up when we are done with it."

Her efforts were inspired by news stories last December about "The Compact," a group of friends in San Francisco completing a year in which they agreed to buy nothing (or hardly anything) new, except for food and necessities for health and safety.

Although a few conservative commentators decried the exercise as a danger to the American economy, the idea struck a chord with people across the country. Hyde began circulating e-mails to friends and acquaintances, setting up a Yahoo group ( groups.yahoo.com/group/nonewstuffseattle) and encouraging an effort she called "No New Stuff Seattle."

New to you, but not "brand new"


Care to cut back on your own consumption? Members of "No New Stuff Seattle" share some ideas:

For clothing, dishes, furniture or toys: Goodwill, Value Village, consignment shops, antique stores, garage sales.

For building materials: RE Store (www.re-store.org), Second Use (www.seconduse.com).

For books, music, videos: Secondhand bookstores or used online through Amazon or Powell's.

For gifts: Locally grown or produced food or wines; tickets to concerts or plays; clothing, jewelry or art by local craftspeople; trading something you can make or do with a friend to obtain a gift.

For food: Shop at farmers markets, buy meat and poultry at area farms, buy seafood off the boats at Fishermen's Terminal, grow your own veggies and herbs, join a community-supported agriculture farm (www.localharvest.org/csa).

For the kids: Connect with friends who have older kids as sources for hand-me-downs, and find friends who have younger kids you can pass your stuff along to. Trade or swap; let kids sell their old toys at a yard sale and buy "new" ones at Goodwill.

On the Web: eBay, Craigslist, Freecycle (www.freecycle.org), Tightwad Central (www.tightwad.com).

Before long, an online dialogue geared up, and Hyde had notched a few small successes, such as scoring a used, if rusty, snow shovel at Hardwick & Sons, which carries second-hand hardware in the University District.

And she found herself weighing a few choices: Would it be OK, she wondered, to buy new long underwear for her 6-year-old son, Alec, as a "health and safety" item? Turns out she didn't have to, getting a pair in good shape from another mom in the group.

Although she didn't know it, Hyde was following a rich tradition in the Puget Sound area, which has fostered a voluntary simplicity movement dating back to the 1980s.

"It gets people to stop and think, 'What is it that makes me happy?' " said Seattle author Cecile Andrews, "and if they look at their lives, they see it's not more stuff that makes them happy, it's relationships with people." She explores those connections in her new book, "Slow is Beautiful: New Visions of Community, Leisure, and Joie de Vivre."

Becoming a more judicious consumer was not out of character for Hyde, who as co-founder of Good Food Strategies advises food producers, retailers and nonprofit groups focused on health and nutrition.

But it's been a challenge, "retraining my brain from an ingrained impulse to just buy something when you need it, whether it's toothpaste — which is clearly necessary — or birthday cards, which can so easily be made at home ... or sent electronically using no new resources."

Laura Monahan, 44, is a Bothell veterinarian who found Hyde's posting on a Yahoo site and was drawn to an effort that reinforces values and skills she learned growing up, after her parents divorced and money was particularly tight.

"My mom taught me how to sew and cook from scratch," she said. "How to take care of and repair things so they last. How to budget. And how to appreciate what we have."

Monahan found "a really cool art desk" for her son through a "Freecycle" group (www.freecycle.org) in which posters list things they're willing to give away, to keep usable items out of the landfills. And she's been inspired by the works of the "Tightwad Gazette" author Amy Dacyczyn, who has written several books with money-saving lifestyle tips. Monahan and her husband, a biotech scientist who's been through two layoffs, have a long-term goal that helps inspire their thrift: They hope that in 10 years, they'll be able to retire and move to a developing country to teach.

Their sons, 2 and 5, aren't yet clamoring for the latest toys or other gear. Monahan is not sure how she'll deal with that when and if it comes, particularly since she objects to video games.

One of the first recruits to Seattle's no-new group was Ritzy Ryciak, 30, who confesses a longtime affection for clothes and shopping. "But I love going to Goodwill, I love going to Value Village. I still get to shop — just thrift shop."

She still sees things she'd like in the windows of University Village shops, "but watching the desire kind of dissipate has been very educational. And it's been great for my checkbook."

Perhaps more significant, Ryciak, editor of Seattle Conscious Choice magazine, said being in the group has given her a fundamentally different outlook. "When you need something, instead of just going to the store, you think about the people in your life and whether it's something they might provide. It enhances creativity and gives you a sense of community."

Most of those who've responded to Hyde's posting are women, making attorney Kevin Traywick an exception. Traywick, 42, says he knows other men who are cutting back on buying new stuff, but they're less interested in joining an online group and fielding e-mail about it.

Since joining, he's decided not to get the iPod he was going to buy to listen to music while he runs. "I've never had one, so maybe I'm missing the world's greatest thing. That's OK."

On the plus side, he went to a vintage furniture store and found a handsome maple and cherry coffee table for much less than it would have cost new. "It's not that I'm not going to acquire things, but that I can wait until I find a nice used one, and keep things in the cycle."

For Hyde, some of the toughest questions have to do with gift-giving: Just because she's content with used stuff doesn't mean everyone she cares about will be. She's given some gifts of food, wine or tickets to an event, "but I did recently buy a new pair of shoes for my goddaughter, which probably violates the compact."

Hyde hosted the clothing swap with help from a couple of other women in the group. They invited their friends, who invited other friends so the selection would be as wide as possible. One rule: The women couldn't just gather up items they wanted; everything they took had to be tried on first. What the swappers didn't take went to Goodwill.

Some women left with armfuls of garments, though the biggest smile may have been on a neighbor from across the street who walked in with two big bags of clothes and walked out with an empty wooden hanger.

Liz Banse, one member of the group, said, "I love the idea of scaling back. I view it as the traditional old way of living where less is more. You don't need a lot of junk."

But Banse, 36, doesn't view the goals as inflexible rules; she allowed herself to buy a fleece hoodie sweatshirt at REI because it was sharply marked down.

"We're not going to be purists about it," she said. "I view it as consciousness-raising: You ask yourself, 'Do I really need this, or do I just want this?' "

Jack Broom: 206-464-2222 or jbroom@seattletimes.com