Living well and with style without breaking the bank: "Orchids on your budget"

After an adventurous year with a new city, new career and many new challenges, I've been reflecting on what simple living means to me now.

The importance of living well on a budget, setting money aside to save for future goals and rainy days, is as important as ever. The career move I made last year meant moving to a more expensive city at the same time as taking a significant salary cut in order to 'start again' at entry level. Budgeting has become more challenging.

At the same time, the opportunities that this move has offered me in terms of building relationships and seeking new experiences - growing and developing as a person professionally, intellectually, creatively and emotionally - are immense. I want to take full advantage of them, of this moment in my life, but I have even less resources (time and money) at my disposal.

Many of the examples, blogs and books I have looked to in the last years demonstrate the importance and value of taking time out of the 'rat race', the value in reconnecting with the slower rhythms of the natural world rather than the rapid movements of popular culture. But much as I am drawn to many of these, and can often find elements to incorporate into my approach, it's hard to get away from the idea that they don't quite fit the moment I am in life. 

I know I'm oversimplifying, but it often feels that I am looking at a model of 'leaning out' of modern life - a move from urban to rural, from ambitious careerism to putting work second, an emphasis on time-intensive crafts and home-cooking. In a word, old-fashioned (and I don't mean that at all pejoratively, but as an approach which rediscovers and celebrates what sometimes forgotten or abandoned skills and tasks can offer us today.) 

What I am increasingly looking for is a model of simple living that enables me to 'lean in' - follow my professional ambitions, enjoy the best of city life without losing touch with country pleasures, and to live not just inexpensively but also with style. I want to be able to enjoy the high cultures of the city and the sports of the countryside, to present myself well at the office and enjoy feeling chic in my down-time, and to enjoy international travel today without making it impossible tomorrow.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have found a book which exactly bridges this gap. Which reaffirms the importance of budgeting, living below your means in order to save, and of exploring inexpensive pleasures. And which also argues it is possible to do all of this, and still have 'orchids', or rather to incorporate some luxuries into your life. 

"Orchids on your budget; Live smartly on what you have" was written in 1937, advising the ladies of New York that a reduced income doesn't mean they have to give up all hopes of being well-dressed, of entertaining in style and having the occasional orchids. The author, Marjorie Hillis, was assistant editor of Vogue and seems to have been a fascinating woman.

In many ways the advice offered is not new, and will be very familiar to many of us. Focus on big expenditures like what you pay for your home, and prioritise either size or location, but not both. Down-size and declutter as much as you can. Decorate using second-hand items, homemade bits, finds from thrift stores, and make it chic using a simple colour scheme. Look after your clothes, make sure they are properly maintained, cleaned and mended. Learn to cook well using inexpensive, local or seasonal ingredients.

The difference is that she focuses on style, panache, glamour. On building a wardrobe that is easy to maintain and chic, for example. She advises reading fashion magazines as you would an exam textbook to distil the key trends and using that to add a few inexpensive touches (eg an accessory rather than a full suit) to a capsule wardrobe so you look up to date without spending much on clothes you won't get much wear out of. 

Most of all, I loved the tone of the book, the witty and acerbic voice of Marjorie Hillis advising me to make good use of what I have, rather than complaining that I can't have more. My favourite quote is on her advice that everyone should have a hobby, should seek interesting things rather than waiting for them to find you: "Be a Communist, a stamp collector, or a Ladies’ Aid worker if you must, but for heaven’s sake, be something." For another taste of her 'voice', there's a good article on her earlier book "Live alone and like it" here. 

I enjoyed the independent, forward-thinking approach to women in the workplace - Marjorie Hillis also wrote a guide to 'spare women' on how to 'Life alone and like it', and urges women to see how they can earn something to support themselves or help the household budget go further, whether by going out to work or making use of their skills and resources in the home. One chapter is entitled 'Can you afford a husband?' - her sense of humour is apparent throughout.

She argues a lot is in attitude - the importance of enthusiasm, of creating fun for yourself and others rather than dwelling on what you wish you had, comes back again and again throughout the book. It's a fantastic complement to what has been written about slowing down, budgeting and 'making do and mending', but with added glitz. For anyone worried that living on a budget means giving up too much, this is a great source of tips for living glamorously on a shoestring.

Cart before the horse

I have collected a large number of books, very few of which I am particularly attached to. Most are ones that I keep meaning to read and never get around to. The bookshelves take up a lot of space in what is currently the spare room, and are definitely functional IKEA bookshelves rather than pretty ones. They were never intended to be long-term fixtures, but when my dad decided he didn't want my boxes in his attic any more and brought them over, books were a large factor and even though many have gone to the second-hand book shop, I still have far more than I need or want, or than we can really fit in the available space.

Following on from my pondering of Hannah's house last week, I've been putting quite a bit of thought into what we might change in this flat and I really like the idea of building some bookshelves into the wall made from wine crates or similar, using all the space up to the ceiling so we can relocate the big bookshelves down to the basement for more practical storage there. There's some beautiful examples on pinterest.

 

Source: www.pinterest.com

My boyfriend and I have recently been discussing some of the changes we'd like to make - some small (add radiator covers, re-upholster the dining chairs) and some bigger (change the doors, knock down the wall between the kitchen and the living room). On the question of the bookcases, one point became clear - we (or rather, me, as the main hoarder in the house) tend to accumulate stuff to fill the space available. Before building in beautiful bookcases, it would make sense to get my huge book collection down to a more sensible size.

I think this would be a good approach, because it also means we have a better idea of how much storage we really want/need and don't just full a wall with shelves which then look empty, making me feel a compunction to fill them.

Of all the rooms in the house, I think this is a good place to start because it's the one we use the least, so easy to paint/build/adjust. I've been pondering how I could address the 'book' challenge - I am struggling with the idea of getting rid of books I haven't read yet, and many of the books have not been read, in part because I tend to pick up and re-read books I've read, or start a new book before finishing the last one. Someone gives me a new one, or I read a review of a book on my shelf - I have started but not finished approximately fifteen or twenty books currently on my shelves showcasing my collection of bookmarks.

I've been wondering whether the Project 333 approach might not be a good idea - essentially ration myself to a set number of books for a few months, and see how that goes. There's limited space in the basement, but what I've done is tidied out my bedside table and put a selection of six books there. I'm going to challenge myself to ignore the other bookshelves and stick to these six for the next two months, and see how that goes. Maybe it needs to be fewer books, or less time - or more time.

Have you tried anything like this?

What's on your bookshelf?

Reading angry chicken's post about building a family library got me thinking over the last week. How did the selection of books on my shelves get there, what do they say about me and how do they enrich my life?

As you will have seen, I've been a little alarmed recently by identifying my reluctance to throw out things that are broken, damaged or no longer needed as the tip of the iceberg of proper, full-on can't-see-the-floors-or-even-the-walls hoarding.

The two factors came together with the realisation that most of the books on my shelf do not enrich my life. I have been holding on to lots of books that I have read and will never read again, some of which I did not particularly enjoy, but all of which I feel I have to keep hold of. This is perhaps partly a learned response, as I have always been taught never to get rid of books as they are an investment in your intellectual future, but also I think I have been clinging to an image that my bookshelves portrayed. I like being someone who has Virgina Woolf and Samuel Beckett on her bookshelves, even if I know I am never again going to read Nohow On. It was depressing enough the first time.

This means that every time I walk into the spare room, where all the bookshelves are, I feel conflicted between the life I would like to have and the one I do. Much as I would love to be an erudite reader who enjoys dissecting the finer points of Beckett after too much booze, this is not (or no longer) really a part of my life. I want to embrace new intellectual challenges - and read Beckett's plays, which I do enjoy, rather than his prose. I also look at the cluttered selection of books stacked two deep on all shelves, and piling up towards the ceiling, and feel how far this is from a peaceful, restorative and stimulating library I would like to have.

The purpose of a book is to be read. By holding books in perpetual storage on my shelves, all I do is make it harder to see the books I might pick up and read, and block new and exciting books from coming in to join the party. So I am selling four bags of books to the second-hand bookshop I frequent, and I hope they will entertain, inspire and challenge many more people. I can now actually see the books I have not yet read, and can think about which books I might like to add to a smaller but more meaningful and purposeful collection.

Booky cleaning inspiration

After five months of waiting, Amazon has finally come through for me and delivered this thing to my door. "Self-Sufficiency Household Cleaning", by Rachelle Strauss.

The self-sufficiency guides look pretty good - they've got volumes on soapmaking, beekeeping, weaving and cheesemaking. The principle is, as the title suggests, self-sufficiency - doing things from scratch, in enough quantity or with enough regularity that it can become your only source of whatever is in question.

Long time no see

So I've been a lazy blogger for a while, despite the huge volume and diversity of thoughts and reflections I wanted to share. But hopefully I'll get around to posting a few of them up in the next month. I think blogging is a muscle - you have to exercise is regularly, or every entry feels like hard work! So I'll start myself off small and work up. Today, I am starting with a book review.

Kate Morton - The House at Riverton

This book is about the relationship between a young girl who goes into service in the Edwardian era, rises to become a lady's maid, and leaves service after a dramatic event in the family in which she seems ambiguously invovled. The story follows her recollection of the events of her youth, prompted by a film being made about this family. I really, really enjoyed this book. In fact, I read it in one day because I couldn't put it down. I wouldn't call it a challenging book - there was more than one intended surprise which could be seen coming from miles off - and one or two of the characters were a little simplistic, but they were all very sympathetically written, and minor characters worked well as cameos even where they were not given much depth. The author built up the tension very well, however, and by the final show-down I was absolutely gripped.

I mostly came away from the book with a sense of the romanticisation of the relationship between servant and mistress, and of the lives of people in service generally. There was very little about the relentless labour, and much more about the sense of being privileged to work there. It does seem odd that certain historical periods and contexts draw so much more focus in novels, film and tv than any other - the golden age of the English Country House, the Tudor court, 1066 and the industrial revolution seem to cover most areas. Odd that we see so little of, for example, Anglo-Saxon life or World War 2, or Restoration England. Maybe I should write historical fiction to even up the gap...

OK, slight tangent there. Anyway, it's a thoroughly enjoyable book but will not rock the foundations of your being.