From Shopping Shame to Shopping Joy: My Journey to Guilt-Free Fashion

Growing Up in the Shadow of Modesty

When I’m complimented on what I’m wearing, I feel a spark of joy— quickly dusted with a little shame.

Growing up, my parents taught me to be modest. Instead of comparing belongings or showing off, I was encouraged to focus on working hard and getting good grades. This “lay low” mindset ran deep. I felt proud that I never begged for the latest designer bag or flashy gadget like some peers.

Yet this also planted a seed of shame around enjoying nice things. I worried that showing excitement for new clothes or accessories would make me seem shallow or boastful. When I get complemented for what I'm wearing, I feel happy, but that happiness is sprinkled with a sense of shame.

Social media intensified this conflict. When others posted luxury hauls or expensive new toys, I judged them inwardly: “How superficial,” I’d think. Meanwhile, I refused to post about my own purchases, even if I secretly loved them.

Instead, I shared only what felt “earned”: home-cooked meals, beautiful landscapes, academic milestones. Buying something for myself felt like cheating. That self-denial persisted for years, even though part of me longed to enjoy fashion like everyone else.

A Hidden Love for Fashion

What few people knew is that I’ve always adored fashion. Even in kindergarten, I’d spend so long choosing my outfit each morning that it drove my mom a little crazy. I remember phases so vividly: one year everything had to be baby pink; the next, it was baby blue or nothing.

Some of my fondest memories are tagging along on my parents’ clothing trips to the bustling Budapest malls. Those stores were wonderlands of color and texture — I felt inspired and alive. My dad would run his hand over a sleeve and say, “This is 100% cotton,” “This one’s a blend,” or “Not great — 100% polyester.” That early education in fabrics made me more discerning and taught me how to tell good quality from bad.

By the time I was working on a PhD in psychology, I had convinced myself that caring about clothes was frivolous. Serious scholars weren’t supposed to gush over outfits, right? In academic circles I downplayed my interest in style, afraid colleagues would think I was less dedicated to research.

Privately, though, I devoured YouTube shopping hauls and style lookbooks. I lit up whenever I found a piece I’d been quietly gravitating toward—there’s nothing like having a specific item in mind and then spotting the diamond in the rough. It feels as if the piece is waving, “You finally came,” like it was meant for me.

One of my favorite pastimes — then and now — is window-shopping around the city or in malls. My husband knows this well: whenever I’m feeling low, he’ll say, “Let’s go shopping,” and I brighten almost instantly. On the rare days it doesn’t help, it’s usually a sign I’m genuinely under the weather.

When Fashion Became Therapy

Maybe because there are so many big things in life we can’t control, clearing and organizing wardrobes is something I could control, which was comforting.

Last year, life forced me to confront my secret love head-on. I temporarily moved back to Budapest to stay with my parents, while my husband remained abroad for work. It was lonely and disorienting at first, and took some time to get adjusted to the change.

One of the first things I did was help my parents clean out their wardrobe. I pulled out every single piece from their closets and drawers, asked them to toss anything they no longer wanted into a bag, and then categorized the rest — pants versus T-shirts, for example —folding T-shirts neatly into one drawer and pants into another.

I still can’t fully explain why I love this process. Maybe because there are so many big things in life we can’t control, clearing and organizing wardrobes is something I could control, which was comforting.

On weekends, I wandered the same city streets and shopping centers I loved as a kid. At first I told myself it was just nostalgia. But each time I stepped into a boutique or browsed market stalls, I felt a lift in my spirit I couldn’t ignore.

Eventually, I realized the deeper truth: fashion and shopping were grounding me. In a turbulent time, picking out a beautiful blouse or trying on a pair of shoes gave me a spark of joy and control. It wasn’t about the buying itself; it was the experience of reconnecting with a part of myself I’d suppressed.

By allowing myself to enjoy those moments without guilt, I was practicing a form of self-care. Loving clothes didn’t make me shallow or materialistic — it made me me. Each outfit I put together became an act of creativity and resilience, stitching together confidence during a hard time.

Sharing the Joy: Styling Others

I don’t just enjoy styling myself — I love helping others find pieces that make them light up. For example, a few years ago now, I picked out a pair of jeans and a shirt for my mother-in-law; she still talks about how comfortable and flattering they are.

I also love going shopping with friends and helping them style. There’s a very specific satisfaction in watching someone spot their item — the one that brightens their day and brings out their best self. There were even days I bought nothing at all, yet went home completely satisfied — because helping someone else find the piece that lights them up is its own kind of joy!

I’ve also realized that helping others find clothes that fit them aligns with my mission to improve others’ well-being — and it boosts my own social well-being too, because shopping becomes time to connect and socialize with friends!

Embracing Holistic Well-Being

It was time to give myself permission to integrate all parts of my life — including my love of fashion — into my picture of wellness.

Ironically, as a psychology PhD student specializing in well-being, I had spent years preaching holistic health — yet I wasn’t fully living it. I treated mental pursuits (like analyzing happiness) as superior to “physical” concerns like appearance or finances, and it left parts of my well-being undernourished.

Inspired by my time in Budapest, I started an experiment. I paused the overthinking and focused on practical domains I’d neglected: physical health and financial wellness. I learned the basics of investing and examined my spending habits. I read books on longevity and revamped my routine — exercising regularly, eating wholesome unprocessed foods, and prioritizing sleep.

The results were immediate: I felt grounded and peaceful. Tending to those “mundane” areas freed up mental energy. It also gave me the confidence to accept that enjoying shopping could be part of a healthy life, too.

Why shouldn’t other “material” aspects of life, like personal style, interplay with mental wellness? It was time to give myself permission to integrate all parts of my life — including my love of fashion — into my picture of wellness.

Mindful Shopping: Finding My Style of Joy

The joy comes not from a quick swipe of a card, but from discovering something I’ll genuinely cherish.

A significant shift was redefining how I shop and what I share. In the past, I either denied myself the pleasure of shopping or, if I indulged, felt guilty and hid it. Now I approach shopping intentionally, in a way that aligns with me. I’ve stopped buying things just because they’re trending. Instead, I treat shopping like a treasure hunt for pieces that truly fit my lifestyle, values, and aesthetics. The joy comes not from a quick swipe of a card, but from discovering something I’ll genuinely cherish.

For example, I’ve been on the lookout for a fall bag. I knew I wanted a mid-sized black leather bag, and I’ve been drawn to the relaxed hobo silhouette. At first I was tempted by Songmont's Medium Gather Bag that so many YouTubers showcased. I even put it in my cart—then realized there’d be duties, so I paused and decided to have my husband pick it up on his trip back to China.

A few days later, while browsing Nordstrom, I discovered Aimee Kestenberg and clicked through to the brand’s site. The Bali Double Entry Satchel immediately caught my eye and checked all my boxes: hobo-ish shape, black leather, and super practical. Its organization really stands out—there’s a back slip pocket for my phone, two exterior zip pockets, and even a pocket hidden under the flap. The two tassel zipper pulls are the cherry on top, giving it that effortless hobo vibe. It was also on sale for less than one-third the price of the Songmont bag! I didn’t hesitate and bought it right away. I’ve been loving it and haven’t left the house without it since.

Then take the Stanley tumbler craze. Everyone—friends and influencers — seemed to have one. I was tempted, especially during sales. Then I asked myself: “Do I actually need or even like this?” First, I was not a fan of the large size and the open straw design that can easily get dirty. I prefer a lightweight, sealed bottle that slips into my tote for long walks. I think the Stanley cup makes sense and seems to be super convenient if you’re in the car a lot, but it's not for me who rarely has to drive around.

Even when Jennie (I'm a big fan) from BLACKPINK launched a Stanley collaboration, I still didn’t buy it. I'm proud to have stuck with my values to only buy something that suits my lifestyle that I will truly use on a daily basis.

Around the same time, I fell in love with a PUMA collaboration by ROSÉ of BLACKPINK. Her limited-edition PUMA x ROSÉ winter sneakers ticked all my boxes: a unique wrap-around, ballet-inspired lace design; something I actually needed (a comfy winter sneaker); and a connection to an artist who inspires me. The celebrity factor caught my eye, but I made sure the product itself was something I genuinely loved — not just hype. I bought the sneakers, and it felt great because it was an authentic choice. Those shoes give me a spark of happiness every time I lace them up, which beats the fleeting thrill of an impulse buy.

Sharing Without Shame

You can be thoughtful and educated and still delight in something as simple as a new pair of shoes.

Perhaps the biggest breakthrough was testing the waters of sharing my love of fashion openly. After buying the PUMA x ROSÉ sneakers, I did something unimaginable for my past self: I posted about them on Instagram. Hitting “share” came with a jolt of nerves — was anyone going to roll their eyes? — but the response was positive. More importantly, I felt a liberating rush. I was owning a part of myself I used to hide.

I realized I had been projecting my fears onto others. I assumed people would judge or envy me if I showed something nice I bought because I used to judge others for that. Social media can fuel comparisons, but I received genuine interested comments. No hate, no snark. Sharing from a place of joy and authenticity reads differently than showing off for status. Now I can happily share my finds — like two friends excitedly comparing shopping bags — with no motive beyond “this made me happy; maybe it’ll bring you a smile too.”

By stepping out of the shadow of my own judgment, I’ve joined the conversation instead of sitting on the sidelines. It feels good. I no longer scroll past fashion posts with envy or scorn. I double-tap, save ideas, and appreciate others’ style without feeling it diminishes mine. On my own feed, I integrate this once-hidden side.

One week I might post a psychology tip or motivational quote; the next, a pretty thrifted dress that sparks joy. Both coexist because they are both me. You can be thoughtful and educated and still delight in something as simple as a new pair of shoes. Life is richer when you enjoy all its colors—the profound and the playful.

Conclusion: Joy Beyond the Guilt

Life is too short to deny ourselves harmless pleasures.

My journey from shopping shame to shopping joy taught me that the key lies in intention and balance. Today, I embrace fashion and material treats not as validation or competition, but as self-expression and sparks of joy that lightens the weights of life.

I keep my parents’ lessons of humility close — I’m mindful not to equate personal worth with the worth of things. But I’ve let go of the excessive fear of judgment. If something genuinely makes me happy and aligns with my values, I’ll wear it, buy it, maybe even snap a selfie with it — and feel good about it.

Life is too short to deny ourselves harmless pleasures because of some internalized voice policing what’s “important” enough to enjoy. Enjoying a well-crafted handbag or a vibrant dress can be a small act of everyday joy, and we all deserve those moments. I’ve reached a place where my love for psychology and my love for fashion complement each other.

My life now feels more integrated. I’m living my values of holistic well-being — honoring mind, body, finances, and yes, even closet — and it shows in my peace of mind.

Goodbye, shopping shame — hello, guilt-free glow up!