It is Sunday. I’m sitting in our church in Brooklyn which I can easily walk to via orientation of the vintage shops in its vicinity. The church’s spire sticks out amidst a triangular road intersection and there are three vintage shops within walking distance—a unique holy trinity.

The homily of the priest had one main thought: only God is necessary. We try to get a better job, better this, better that. But only God is necessary.

I found it incredibly comforting and relevant.

As it signalled to me to just forget that vintage Pucci dress I tried on the other day. Ugh, it was beautiful. It looked like a scarf spontaneously, skillfully cut into a dress. What made matters worse was the store owner with her French accent kept prodding me with temptations like “Oh we just got this in, you’re not going to find anything like that... It’s in great condition” and when I turned it away, “Are you sure? Okay, think about it. Because you are the best candidate.”

I know it sounds petty. But beautiful objects are my downfall. I am generally a practical person, I am. In the kitchen, I’m so conscious about food waste that I plan my recipes so I don’t have to throw away any excess ingredients. If there’s 1/4th the container of pasta sauce left, even if I’m sick of having pasta, I’ll eat pasta again for a whole week just so that the ratio of noodles and sauce gets balanced out. When I shop for skincare, I tried Aesop—once. It’s just too expensive! I prefer to go to the pharmacy or drugstore for my skin’s needs. Way cheaper and feels lighter on my skin.

It’s a tension I struggle with. I’m into spirituality, but I also like shopping. When I meditate, certain thoughts come to me to give me clarity on life, on filtering out a lot of noise. But I also have thoughts on the items I didn’t buy but still think about. My phone will have screenshots of clothes I’ve tried on and quotes that remind me to have balance in life. To counter any buying impulses, I made myself a “5-way shopping test” which I pull up from Notes while I’m in dressing rooms:

Does it flatter my figure?
What else could I buy with that money?
Am I just buying it because it’s on discount/limited supply?
Would I wear it in a year? 3 years?
Does it bring me joy? Would I be excited to wear it? Or am I just buying because of sheer function/necessity?

During one session with a spiritual advisor, she told me that I have a lot of light in me. But part of my darkness is: vanity. It reminded me of The Devil’s Advocate when Al Pacino said, “Vanity. My favorite sin.”

I don’t know a lot of people with these contrasting interests. The people I know from yoga tend to dress “function over fashion” while the people I know in fashion generally move towards “fashion over function.” There is one guy that caught my attention. He’s the editor of GQ Style, and he wrote this surprising article on his spiritual guide, Ram Dass.

Are there “spiritual people” out there, who just hide that they like fashion? And are there fashionable people out there, who stifle that they’re into spirituality? The spiritual and the material, it’s a tricky balance. God has blessed me with an eye for things, but Catholicism instills in me a guilt for coveting them.

So I go back to the last (and deal breaker question) I ask myself, “Does it bring you joy?” Sometimes, it’s worth breaking the rules for that.