What Is a No-Buy Year? The Challenge That Transformed My Spending

Timing has never been my strong suit, but deciding to make 2025 a ‘no-buy’ year? I have to admit, I got this one just right. With Canada caught in an escalating trade war and prices set to skyrocket, it’s fair to say the wind is at my back on this one. Unlike most of my past New Year’s resolutions, I’m finding this one surprisingly easy to stick with. And while I fully expected this challenge would teach me a lot about my finances, I did not expect to learn so much about myself along the way. 

If you’re not familiar with the concept of a no-buy year, it’s essentially a personal challenge where you commit to avoiding non-essential purchases for an entire year. The reasons vary—some do it to save money, some to cut back on consumption, and others to reassess their spending habits. Those who succeed in following through often end up accomplishing all three.

I first stumbled across the idea on TikTok, watching people document their experiences. Some committed for a month, others for a full year, each setting their own “rules”. Inspired, I decided to set my own strict guidelines. Here’s what I came up with:

My No Buy Rules

• No new clothes – Exception: shoes (but not dress shoes) and bras.
• No new furniture – Not even thrifted.
• No new dishes – Including antique dishes, which if you know me, hurts.
• No new beauty products – I can only replenish when I run out, and I must use what I already own first. (Honestly, I could open my own Sephora with all my half-used products.) 
• No credit card spending – Cash only.
• No eating out or drive-thrus – Exception: while traveling.
• One streaming service at a time – The trade war made this easy. Apple, Netflix, and Prime are out. Crave it is.
• No new tech.
• No new books – Library or Little Free Libraries only.
• No new plants for the garden – Except annuals for my window boxes. Everything else must be split or grown from seed.

My reasons for embracing a no-buy mindset are pretty straightforward. First, I’m broke. Broké if you want to get fancy. Divorce costs and debt don’t just vanish, and I’m clawing my way out in a less than stellar economy. And honestly? I’m not even a little embarrassed to admit it. The truth is, 99% of us are being squeezed by billionaires’ endless greed, we just haven’t all realized it yet.

Second, I’m exhausted by stuff. Managing clothes I never wear, furniture I don’t need, pretty office supplies that go unused, and kitchen gadgets that seemed like a great idea at the time? Hard pass.

Third, I knew Trump’s return would bring economic chaos, so I wanted to throw every extra dollar available at paying off consumer debt to protect what little I do own.

What I’ve Learned About A No-Buy Life

So, what have I learned? The first realization might seem obvious, but trust me—it’s not until you completely pull back that you truly see it. I knew we were bombarded with ads constantly, with estimates ranging from 4,000 to 10,000 per day, but going cold turkey on spending made them feel like bullhorns in my face. At first, they created anxiety—what if I actually do need this thing I’ve never once needed in my entire life until right now? It’s almost like detoxing. The craving hits hard at first, but then it eases. Three months in, I’m not immune, but I’m less tempted and hyper-aware of marketing in a way I never was before.

Then there are the money leaks. Subscriptions, as you probably know, are a plague. Remember when we bought albums and made mixtapes? Or when you paid for Microsoft Office once instead of indefinitely? And don’t even get me started on cloud storage—I have 71,672 images floating in the digital abyss, costing me $14.68 a month. To be honest, I haven’t even tackled that mess yet. But I have been ruthless about cutting unnecessary fees elsewhere, and the savings have been an eye-opener.

And here’s the kicker: I actually have more money than I thought. Eliminating those quiet, unnecessary charges and throwing that money at debt instead has made a huge difference. Watching my consumer debt shrink is more addictive than the ads that used to convince me I was missing out on something.

But I also realized… I also have less money than I thought. Yeah, this challenge is a real mind-bender. Like so many, I have been playing financial musical chairs—shuffling debt instead of actually paying it off. Without credit as a crutch, the true cost of simply existing has hit hard. I’ve tracked every penny spent daily for almost 3 months now, and even with zero “fun money” spent, it’s amazing how much gets siphoned off. Mortgage, utilities, insurance, gas—it all adds up fast. And when you’re trying to build an emergency fund? Let’s just say I’m not sure why we’re all not revolting in the streets.

What I’ve Learned About Myself

Am I being radicalized? Honestly, I don’t know. What I do know is that I’ve become increasingly uncomfortable with capitalism as it stands today—where the ultra-wealthy hoard everything while the rest of us are squeezed dry. I haven’t gone full Bolshevik, but I’m not Gordon Gekko either. More and more, I’m leaning toward cooperativism as a path we should be pursuing as a society. Now, I just need to get the rest of you on board.

I’ve also become infinitely more grateful for what I already have. My closet is full. My furniture is functional. My kitchen has more dishes than I’ll ever need. Letting go of what people might think has been wildly liberating. I may not be wearing the latest trend or Pantone’s colour of the year, but stepping off that hamster wheel? Pure freedom.

I see savings opportunities everywhere now—whether it’s making my own coffee syrup or grooming my dog (though, to be fair, Dolly Pawton might object to that one). Sorry, Dolly, but your haircut shouldn’t cost more than mine. Speaking of hair, that’s another shift—I’m letting mine gradually return to its natural colour. One, because at 55, I’m lucky to have no grey yet. And two, because salon prices are insane.

I let go of retail therapy, realizing it was a trap I set for myself. I used to wander store aisles with a takeout coffee just to kill time, which only fed my need for more. Now, I take my dog for a walk or learn something new. Next up: canning!

One thing I am struggling with? The endless push to consume. The reality is, capitalism thrives on convincing us we need more, and social media is its loudest cheerleader. As someone who creates content—on this site and on my podcast—I’m hyper-aware of how much of the digital space is designed to sell us something. It’s exhausting. I don’t want to encourage mindless consumption, and I certainly don’t want to align with companies that contradict my values. Even this website serves ads I have no control over, and I know I don’t agree with half of them. Capitalism forces us to compromise our principles every single day, and I hate it.

This challenge has also made me more mindful. There are still things I want to buy, but now I think long and hard before adding anything to my list. Instead of impulse shopping, I research Canadian-made products that are built to last. I will no longer be grabbing the same item in three colours just because I like it. I’m unlearning the “buy now, think later” mentality that capitalism thrives on.

I’m only three months in, and I won’t pretend I don’t get tempted by shiny things at Costco or targeted ads on my phone. But the longer I stick with this, the lighter I feel.

Where will I be at the end of the year? If all goes according to plan, completely consumer debt-free with a solid emergency fund. And what will I have to show for it?

Peace of mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.