Having just moved (again), I've spent the past two weeks browsing Craigslist in a concerted effort to furnish my entire apartment for no money, and this is my question: Does anyone actually buy stuff from Craigslist for more than $100, give or take?
My mentality--and I assume that of most other people my age--when furnishing a place through Craigslist is that the whole setup will be temporary, hence my disinclination to purchase "real" (read: expensive, solid) furniture and my resorting to Craigslist in the first place. I want to buy the cheapest, lightest, easiest-to-transport version of the thing I'm looking for--$25 collapsible bookshelves, $20 laminate desks, etc. The goal is to furnish on the cheap, then re-sell for even cheaper when I move out, and repeat the process in the new place (until at some point in the extremely distant future, I finally settle down somewhere for good, and the first thing I will do then is have a bed built out of living trees so it can never be moved again). By buying cheap and selling slightly cheaper instead of buying at retail and selling for way less to compete with the even cheaper resold stuff on Craigslist, I lose the least amount of money in the process of moving.
So, when I'm browsing the options on Craigslist and come across such things as $300 solid oak dressers or $700 mahogany dining room sets, I ignore them entirely even though 1) the discount on these items is substantially bigger than the discount on the recycled Target and Ikea junk I actually buy, and 2) they're obviously way better quality. The reason I don't buy a $300 dresser is pretty obvious, but I do note that this dresser probably cost over $600 originally, whereas the ubiquitous Ikea "Malm" dresser made of pressed sawdust and cardboard(!) that I buy instead for $60 only cost $100 originally and is, obviously, a piece of crap. The solid oak dresser is by far the thriftier buy, if thrift is taken to mean quality+price and not just pennies saved.
So I wonder, what becomes of the $300 solid oak dressers when everyone my age adopts my version of home economics? I assume that old rich people are still buying new, expensive, solid furniture, so there remains a market for producing it. But I doubt they're buying it on Craigslist for $300, because people who think in terms of solid oak probably don't overlap much with people who think in terms of Craigslist and driving around town sticking mismatched used things in the backs of their Toyotas. As a result, the people who would otherwise buy expensive furniture with the thought of reselling at a reasonable discount later are doomed in their efforts, and thus is the market for cheap crap from Ikea enlarged. And for places like Target and Ikea, which are in effect competing with Craigslist for the same cheapo furniture buyers, does this pressure drive down their quality even farther so that they can beat the $25 resale price tag on their own merchandise?
Basically, what I'm asking is: will my cheapness result in a massive furniture apocalypse in which the Malm dressers and custom-made, hand-crafted teak dressers are the only two options left?
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
DIY Eiskaffee
The best thing in the whole world is the Eiskaffee at Florian Steiner, in the Neuenheim section of Heidelberg. On the remote off-chance any of Cheapness Studies's three readers are currently in or around the Lutherstrasse but not up for spending the requisite 4.90 euros, here's a step-by-step guide to recreating that nectar of the gods in your own home:
-Prepare some cold-brewed iced coffee. You'll only need half a cup or so for the final product, but it's good stuff to have around. Instructions here, but you can skip the step where it says you need to dilute the mixture with water. It will be diluted plenty by the other ingredients. Once brewed, refrigerate.
-Chill an elongated, conical glass. Or just do as I did, because I don't have one, and use a mug slightly warmed by the dishwasher.* Do what you've got to do.
-While that's brewing, get some ice cream. The classic Eiskaffee is with vanilla, but Florian Steiner's used Ben and Jerry's (carbon footprint be damned), either the chocolate-brownie flavor or the cookie-dough one, and either way, it was spectacular.
-Before assembling the final product, you'll need one more ingredient. The all-important difference between the typical Eiskaffee, which is amazing, and the Florian Steiner one, which is almost indecent to eat in public, is that the latter uses foamed milk on top rather than (shudder) whipped cream. To foam milk without any device specially designed for this, heat a small amount of milk (a third of a mug) in the microwave for 30 seconds or less, then quickly pour it into a small French press. Then, using a vigorous and vaguely obscene motion, push the assembled press up and down, up and down, until the texture turns into something indistinguishable from the top of a cappuccino.
-Assemble: Put a scoop of ice cream at the bottom of the glass, followed by the cold coffee (no ice needed), followed by the foamed milk, so the whole thing looks something like the Platonic ideal:
Strange fact: in this photo, my nose looks hooked, which it does not in any other I've ever seen of myself. (Prominent, yes, hooked, no.) Something to do with being in Germany? Anyhow, no photo of the DIY one, because in a mug, it really does just look like a cappuccino, latte, something along those lines.
*I am - you guessed it! - staying at my parents'.
-Prepare some cold-brewed iced coffee. You'll only need half a cup or so for the final product, but it's good stuff to have around. Instructions here, but you can skip the step where it says you need to dilute the mixture with water. It will be diluted plenty by the other ingredients. Once brewed, refrigerate.
-Chill an elongated, conical glass. Or just do as I did, because I don't have one, and use a mug slightly warmed by the dishwasher.* Do what you've got to do.
-While that's brewing, get some ice cream. The classic Eiskaffee is with vanilla, but Florian Steiner's used Ben and Jerry's (carbon footprint be damned), either the chocolate-brownie flavor or the cookie-dough one, and either way, it was spectacular.
-Before assembling the final product, you'll need one more ingredient. The all-important difference between the typical Eiskaffee, which is amazing, and the Florian Steiner one, which is almost indecent to eat in public, is that the latter uses foamed milk on top rather than (shudder) whipped cream. To foam milk without any device specially designed for this, heat a small amount of milk (a third of a mug) in the microwave for 30 seconds or less, then quickly pour it into a small French press. Then, using a vigorous and vaguely obscene motion, push the assembled press up and down, up and down, until the texture turns into something indistinguishable from the top of a cappuccino.
-Assemble: Put a scoop of ice cream at the bottom of the glass, followed by the cold coffee (no ice needed), followed by the foamed milk, so the whole thing looks something like the Platonic ideal:
Strange fact: in this photo, my nose looks hooked, which it does not in any other I've ever seen of myself. (Prominent, yes, hooked, no.) Something to do with being in Germany? Anyhow, no photo of the DIY one, because in a mug, it really does just look like a cappuccino, latte, something along those lines.
*I am - you guessed it! - staying at my parents'.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Cheapness tip: do not wear clothes as intended
All attempts to dress like an adult - a chic one at that - are rendered futile by certain shopping habits I can't seem to overcome. These are as follows:
1) Not shopping: I will look around a store, perhaps even try some things on, decide I really shouldn't buy anything, and leave empty-handed. This is probably a good thing overall, but explains those cotton tank tops from 2003 that I still think of as among my better clothes.
2) The kids' section: Yesterday my friend Nick and I went, among other more notable places, to the Gap. Before even looking at the women's stuff, I'd already tried - and ultimately rejected - both this girls' sweater and this boys' jacket. While I'm small enough for some kids' clothes, I'm not shall we say built for them, but this fact has not stopped me in the past. When choosing between one item meant for someone with curves, and an ill-fitting version $10 cheaper...
3) The underwear section: Why buy a dress when a nightgown will do? (Note: I am probably a foot and a half shorter than that model, so the thing is far less scandalous than it might appear.)
4) Refusal to wear garments as intended: It's my belief that if a shirt is long enough, it's a dress. Shirts are cheaper than dresses! Who are marketers to tell me how to wear this or that stretch of cotton-blend sewn together in Indonesia? What I fail to take into account is that shirts, with some exceptions, are quite clearly shirts, and that the ones that look like dresses in the store (and by 'the store' I mean H&M, where shirts-that-can-be-dresses now go for $7.95) are one round in the dryer away from being shirts. And it's not as if I need any new shirts, what with all the shirt-successes of 2003.
5) Self-declared retro revivals: I will find something from years ago that is not what they call a 'timeless piece' and think, 'I haven't worn that in a while,' and all of a sudden, the studded belt I adored when I got it senior year of high school has made its triumphant return.
These factors, and I'm sure others, prevent me from achieving the heights of glamor that would otherwise be mine. Till then, I've gotten a non-studded belt (70%-off at agnes b.! the upside of the recession forcing beautiful-clothes shops to close branches) to 'accessorize' the Gap nightgown and the H&M sort-of-dress t-shirt. Surely this will make all the difference in the world.
1) Not shopping: I will look around a store, perhaps even try some things on, decide I really shouldn't buy anything, and leave empty-handed. This is probably a good thing overall, but explains those cotton tank tops from 2003 that I still think of as among my better clothes.
2) The kids' section: Yesterday my friend Nick and I went, among other more notable places, to the Gap. Before even looking at the women's stuff, I'd already tried - and ultimately rejected - both this girls' sweater and this boys' jacket. While I'm small enough for some kids' clothes, I'm not shall we say built for them, but this fact has not stopped me in the past. When choosing between one item meant for someone with curves, and an ill-fitting version $10 cheaper...
3) The underwear section: Why buy a dress when a nightgown will do? (Note: I am probably a foot and a half shorter than that model, so the thing is far less scandalous than it might appear.)
4) Refusal to wear garments as intended: It's my belief that if a shirt is long enough, it's a dress. Shirts are cheaper than dresses! Who are marketers to tell me how to wear this or that stretch of cotton-blend sewn together in Indonesia? What I fail to take into account is that shirts, with some exceptions, are quite clearly shirts, and that the ones that look like dresses in the store (and by 'the store' I mean H&M, where shirts-that-can-be-dresses now go for $7.95) are one round in the dryer away from being shirts. And it's not as if I need any new shirts, what with all the shirt-successes of 2003.
5) Self-declared retro revivals: I will find something from years ago that is not what they call a 'timeless piece' and think, 'I haven't worn that in a while,' and all of a sudden, the studded belt I adored when I got it senior year of high school has made its triumphant return.
These factors, and I'm sure others, prevent me from achieving the heights of glamor that would otherwise be mine. Till then, I've gotten a non-studded belt (70%-off at agnes b.! the upside of the recession forcing beautiful-clothes shops to close branches) to 'accessorize' the Gap nightgown and the H&M sort-of-dress t-shirt. Surely this will make all the difference in the world.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Brooklyn: no cheaper to live in than Manhattan?
Pardon the NYC-specificity of this question (although there are surely analogous questions for other cities re: charming outskirts versus aseptic downtowns), but I'm feeling not so bloggy at the moment. When I am, there will be a longer post in which I answer my own question, but till then, readers (reader? anyone?), comment away.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Making excuses, the European edition
The exchange rate, along with my schoolyear-only stipend and the impending cost of a new (Manhattan, fingers crossed) apartment, makes me frugal indeed while away. The way I deal with the euro is not to calculate what each purchase would be in dollars, but just to set a higher standard than I normally would for what’s a necessary purchase. I think of euros, then, as really big dollars, or just shift my cheapness up a degree, and that seems to amount to what a more mathematical approach would. That, and I eat a lot of wheat bread and this bland but strangely addictive Austrian cheese.
The one place I make an exception and lose all sense of euros is at the café. When it comes to cappuccinos, which I rarely order at home, here I see a "2" next to the item and simply must have one. Cappuccinos in NY are rarely below the $3 mark, so it's like I'm getting a deal! I know rationally that a 2-something euro cappuccino is not in fact cheaper – or much cheaper – than its NY equivalent, but for whatever reason, for this item, I decide it’s acceptable to pretend a euro is just a dollar, nothing more. Part of it could be that here, there’s less of a gap between what a regular coffee costs and what a fancy one does – anything purchased on the outside is by definition fancy, and sometimes a person is outside and in need of a coffee, and with an upgrade so simple... Or maybe it’s that caffeinated purchases are work aids, or can be justified as such, and for whatever reason the books on my orals lists keep being 500 pages long. It could also be that here, whole milk is a given, and cappuccinos really are better with whole than skim. But in all honesty, I think it comes down to two being a smaller number than three.
The one place I make an exception and lose all sense of euros is at the café. When it comes to cappuccinos, which I rarely order at home, here I see a "2" next to the item and simply must have one. Cappuccinos in NY are rarely below the $3 mark, so it's like I'm getting a deal! I know rationally that a 2-something euro cappuccino is not in fact cheaper – or much cheaper – than its NY equivalent, but for whatever reason, for this item, I decide it’s acceptable to pretend a euro is just a dollar, nothing more. Part of it could be that here, there’s less of a gap between what a regular coffee costs and what a fancy one does – anything purchased on the outside is by definition fancy, and sometimes a person is outside and in need of a coffee, and with an upgrade so simple... Or maybe it’s that caffeinated purchases are work aids, or can be justified as such, and for whatever reason the books on my orals lists keep being 500 pages long. It could also be that here, whole milk is a given, and cappuccinos really are better with whole than skim. But in all honesty, I think it comes down to two being a smaller number than three.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Cheapness abroad
It can be cheaper to spend the summer in Europe than to stay put, if staying put means a Brooklyn apartment that, if renewed, would have been well above post-recession market rate. So, for that and other reasons, here I am, ready to offer tips on not spending any money, ever, in the land of hideous exchange rates and beautiful housewares, pastries, books, shoes...
I will now judge the Cheapness Studies merit of entire countries on the basis of brief experiences in tiny parts of each. Those with deeper knowledge, you're encouraged to correct as necessary.
Switzerland: We flew to Zurich because the flight was the cheapest one that got us vaguely near Germany, our ultimate destination; however, the price of the bottle of water we shared at the Zurich train station about canceled out this benefit. Had there only been water fountains somewhere obvious, or water for less than the price of a glass of wine in NY, I'd have much more fond feelings towards Switzerland, which I am indeed judging on the basis of this one incident, along with similar ones flying through there in the past. Is everything in Switzerland that expensive, or just things in transport hubs, as a way of exacting revenge on those who are only in Switzerland because for whatever reason flights there seem to be cheaper than to elsewhere?
Italy: Like Italian food? Your best bet, if you can't afford a villa in the countryside, is to stay put, or to travel somewhere that isn't Italy, assuming wherever you are has decent Italian groceries, restaurants, or both. We chose Italy for our vacation because of its proximity to Switzerland, and because the guide books we read through at the bookstore made it look most appealing. And while obviously a week in Italy is not to be sneezed at, the anxiety it provoked, budget-wise, was significant and unexpected, a definitive Cheapness Studies fail.
Let me explain. Hotels (well, hostels and hotel-ish things near train stations) were OK, sightseeing was as always mostly free, but eating was tough going. Dining out in Italian cities was if anything worse than reported, rip-off wise. Our first attempt - a place not far from our hostel in Milan - took advantage of being among very few places open in the area (at the time of our entering, the only we'd seen) to charge 5 euros a person as a cover charge. Our total meal, one not-terribly-glamorous dish a person, water only to drink, came to 51 euros. That scare had the positive effect of making us remarkably stingy from then on, but I still shudder to think of it, and wish the meal had at least been unusually good.
Tourists come to Italy to eat well, but judging by a week's worth of encounters in Milan, Bologna, Florence, and Rome, many working in the Italian food-service industry seem interested in making this as difficult as possible. It is expected (hoped?) that tourists will be too flummoxed by the Italian language to order off a non-translated menu (although Italian restaurants outside of Italy regularly have menus in Italian), and so will stick to officially-designated tourist establishments. Tourists sophisticated enough to have figured out what spaghetti bolognese is are still asked, by unwritten law, not to seek this out in a place frequented by actual Italians. I didn't much care who the fellow diners were, nationality-wise, and was not seeking an 'authentic' experience, but I didn't want to be ripped off time and time again, and the more languages the menu comes in, the worse value your pasta.
It is, in theory, possible to eat well for cheap in Italy, even near sites, on main streets, etc. The cafeterias (more like lunchtime cafes) where locals - often quite chic, particularly in Milan - dine well for barely any euros at all, are hardly hidden off-the-beaten-path establishments, and are in just about every city. We ate in some, but generally speaking the servers' and cashiers' hostility even to polite foreign intruders with some high-school Italian and without Pub Crawl t-shirts is such that the affordable and delicious dishes ostensibly available - visible, at any rate, behind a counter - require so much strained interaction to obtain that your best bet will ultimately be supermarkets.
As the week came to an end, I found myself nostalgic for linguine at home, at 33 cents (US) a portion, slightly but hardly much more if made bolognese. While I did have fun generally in Italy, and ultimately didn't spend that much, everything having to do with food was stressful, and for a country where food's allegedly a selling point, this is not ideal.
Belgium: We were not in Belgium as tourists, so I can't really report on that angle. All I can help with is to say, beware the Belgian HEMA - the amazing, affordable housewares are in fact cheaper still in the Netherlands, perhaps because the chain is Dutch, so if you're going to be in both countries, restrain yourself. What you should do is get a 1.30 euro scoop of creme brulee ice cream, a 30 euro-cent French novel at a Flemish thrift store, and things of this nature. And supermarket chocolate. Oh yes. In fact, just about anything from the supermarket will be a delight.
The Netherlands: I have just about no idea what things cost in the Netherlands, because I don't speak Dutch, and so entering most stores was too intimidating. There's a cheapness tip - failure to communicate is a quick way to set frivolous purchases at zero. Yes, people speak English, but I didn't feel like bringing it out, which was OK for getting coffee, going to supermarkets, and that's about it. With limited human interaction, it's still possible to get rolls and cheese enough for a week for a couple Euros, although that cheese will be Gouda or something very much like Gouda, Dutch cheeses not varying quite as much as French, Italian, Belgian, even American these days... But overall, Leiden was a Cheapness Studies success. While Jo was at a conference, I read orals-list readings down by the canals, in disbelief that work could feel so much like vacation, and, yeah, ate a lot of those rolls. However, fast food in both Leiden and Amsterdam - chosen both times because we'd imagined it would be both quick and affordable - is only the former, and is - going by that sample of one hamburger place and one falafel stop - all but inedible. So, either investigate Dutch specialties or stick with the rolls.
Germany: The best thing here in Heidelberg in terms of not spending any money, ever, is that in this city clothing- and shoe-store windows are not the wanty-inspiring religious experiences they are in, say, Paris, or even Cologne. Yes, it's still Europe, and things are still just a tiny bit different in that way that makes them seem fun to own and prance around in in the US, but for the most part, they look to be both more expensive and less chic than back home. Whenever I've passed a store here and thought something along these lines looked nice, I realized the store was either H&M or (I'm embarrassed to say, given their current windows) American Apparel. I will have no problem holding out until my current clothes start to fall apart and just doing another round at Uniqlo as needed. (If there is some avant-garde-boutique neighborhood in Heidelberg, I don't want to know about it!)
Meanwhile, the most enjoyable aspects of being here are cheap or free. Jogging down by the river and across various bridges, and ending up with an 80-cent cone of tiramisu ice cream, can't much argue with that. Frying up a plate of spaetzles with some onion, salt, and pepper, is the quickest route to a cheap and delicious meal. Beer and wine are also on the shockingly inexpensive side. Falafel, too, is about half the price as in Leiden and was, at this one place right off the main tourist drag, the most meticulously-made falafel sandwich I've ever seen prepared, as well as quite tasty. Aside from the 4.90 Eiskaffee (basically a very cold iced cappuccino where instead of ice, there's a scoop of ice cream) I find that here I can be most responsible. I still justify the Eiskaffee as being both a coffee and a dessert, because otherwise I will never be able to get one again, but other than that, I may well still be coming out ahead as versus staying home and handing over all those potential Eiskaffees to a NY landlord, as I will promptly be doing in the fall.
I will now judge the Cheapness Studies merit of entire countries on the basis of brief experiences in tiny parts of each. Those with deeper knowledge, you're encouraged to correct as necessary.
Switzerland: We flew to Zurich because the flight was the cheapest one that got us vaguely near Germany, our ultimate destination; however, the price of the bottle of water we shared at the Zurich train station about canceled out this benefit. Had there only been water fountains somewhere obvious, or water for less than the price of a glass of wine in NY, I'd have much more fond feelings towards Switzerland, which I am indeed judging on the basis of this one incident, along with similar ones flying through there in the past. Is everything in Switzerland that expensive, or just things in transport hubs, as a way of exacting revenge on those who are only in Switzerland because for whatever reason flights there seem to be cheaper than to elsewhere?
Italy: Like Italian food? Your best bet, if you can't afford a villa in the countryside, is to stay put, or to travel somewhere that isn't Italy, assuming wherever you are has decent Italian groceries, restaurants, or both. We chose Italy for our vacation because of its proximity to Switzerland, and because the guide books we read through at the bookstore made it look most appealing. And while obviously a week in Italy is not to be sneezed at, the anxiety it provoked, budget-wise, was significant and unexpected, a definitive Cheapness Studies fail.
Let me explain. Hotels (well, hostels and hotel-ish things near train stations) were OK, sightseeing was as always mostly free, but eating was tough going. Dining out in Italian cities was if anything worse than reported, rip-off wise. Our first attempt - a place not far from our hostel in Milan - took advantage of being among very few places open in the area (at the time of our entering, the only we'd seen) to charge 5 euros a person as a cover charge. Our total meal, one not-terribly-glamorous dish a person, water only to drink, came to 51 euros. That scare had the positive effect of making us remarkably stingy from then on, but I still shudder to think of it, and wish the meal had at least been unusually good.
Tourists come to Italy to eat well, but judging by a week's worth of encounters in Milan, Bologna, Florence, and Rome, many working in the Italian food-service industry seem interested in making this as difficult as possible. It is expected (hoped?) that tourists will be too flummoxed by the Italian language to order off a non-translated menu (although Italian restaurants outside of Italy regularly have menus in Italian), and so will stick to officially-designated tourist establishments. Tourists sophisticated enough to have figured out what spaghetti bolognese is are still asked, by unwritten law, not to seek this out in a place frequented by actual Italians. I didn't much care who the fellow diners were, nationality-wise, and was not seeking an 'authentic' experience, but I didn't want to be ripped off time and time again, and the more languages the menu comes in, the worse value your pasta.
It is, in theory, possible to eat well for cheap in Italy, even near sites, on main streets, etc. The cafeterias (more like lunchtime cafes) where locals - often quite chic, particularly in Milan - dine well for barely any euros at all, are hardly hidden off-the-beaten-path establishments, and are in just about every city. We ate in some, but generally speaking the servers' and cashiers' hostility even to polite foreign intruders with some high-school Italian and without Pub Crawl t-shirts is such that the affordable and delicious dishes ostensibly available - visible, at any rate, behind a counter - require so much strained interaction to obtain that your best bet will ultimately be supermarkets.
As the week came to an end, I found myself nostalgic for linguine at home, at 33 cents (US) a portion, slightly but hardly much more if made bolognese. While I did have fun generally in Italy, and ultimately didn't spend that much, everything having to do with food was stressful, and for a country where food's allegedly a selling point, this is not ideal.
Belgium: We were not in Belgium as tourists, so I can't really report on that angle. All I can help with is to say, beware the Belgian HEMA - the amazing, affordable housewares are in fact cheaper still in the Netherlands, perhaps because the chain is Dutch, so if you're going to be in both countries, restrain yourself. What you should do is get a 1.30 euro scoop of creme brulee ice cream, a 30 euro-cent French novel at a Flemish thrift store, and things of this nature. And supermarket chocolate. Oh yes. In fact, just about anything from the supermarket will be a delight.
The Netherlands: I have just about no idea what things cost in the Netherlands, because I don't speak Dutch, and so entering most stores was too intimidating. There's a cheapness tip - failure to communicate is a quick way to set frivolous purchases at zero. Yes, people speak English, but I didn't feel like bringing it out, which was OK for getting coffee, going to supermarkets, and that's about it. With limited human interaction, it's still possible to get rolls and cheese enough for a week for a couple Euros, although that cheese will be Gouda or something very much like Gouda, Dutch cheeses not varying quite as much as French, Italian, Belgian, even American these days... But overall, Leiden was a Cheapness Studies success. While Jo was at a conference, I read orals-list readings down by the canals, in disbelief that work could feel so much like vacation, and, yeah, ate a lot of those rolls. However, fast food in both Leiden and Amsterdam - chosen both times because we'd imagined it would be both quick and affordable - is only the former, and is - going by that sample of one hamburger place and one falafel stop - all but inedible. So, either investigate Dutch specialties or stick with the rolls.
Germany: The best thing here in Heidelberg in terms of not spending any money, ever, is that in this city clothing- and shoe-store windows are not the wanty-inspiring religious experiences they are in, say, Paris, or even Cologne. Yes, it's still Europe, and things are still just a tiny bit different in that way that makes them seem fun to own and prance around in in the US, but for the most part, they look to be both more expensive and less chic than back home. Whenever I've passed a store here and thought something along these lines looked nice, I realized the store was either H&M or (I'm embarrassed to say, given their current windows) American Apparel. I will have no problem holding out until my current clothes start to fall apart and just doing another round at Uniqlo as needed. (If there is some avant-garde-boutique neighborhood in Heidelberg, I don't want to know about it!)
Meanwhile, the most enjoyable aspects of being here are cheap or free. Jogging down by the river and across various bridges, and ending up with an 80-cent cone of tiramisu ice cream, can't much argue with that. Frying up a plate of spaetzles with some onion, salt, and pepper, is the quickest route to a cheap and delicious meal. Beer and wine are also on the shockingly inexpensive side. Falafel, too, is about half the price as in Leiden and was, at this one place right off the main tourist drag, the most meticulously-made falafel sandwich I've ever seen prepared, as well as quite tasty. Aside from the 4.90 Eiskaffee (basically a very cold iced cappuccino where instead of ice, there's a scoop of ice cream) I find that here I can be most responsible. I still justify the Eiskaffee as being both a coffee and a dessert, because otherwise I will never be able to get one again, but other than that, I may well still be coming out ahead as versus staying home and handing over all those potential Eiskaffees to a NY landlord, as I will promptly be doing in the fall.
Friday, July 24, 2009
The thought of the money I'm saving cools me off
Since this article captures a practice I have been implementing for two years already without the impetus of recession, I enjoyed it as a means of self-vindication against my (many) detractors. Surprisingly, very few people are able to see the virtues of life without air-conditioning. I'd think it would be obvious.
First, you can save fully hundreds of dollars a summer. The people in this article claim to have saved thousands, but either their house is massive or their local energy costs tremendous, because my poorly-insulated five-BR house never costs anywhere near that much to cool. So let's put the savings at hundreds. HUNDREDS of dollars. That is a lot of money. Think of how many cups of work-escape coffee that will buy you.
Second, there is no second. This is a blog about saving money, and not using air-conditioning pretty much only saves money, but A LOT of money. Maybe it will bring your family closer together or help you lose weight as the interviewees claim, but I have not tested either of these assertions, so I can't say. It will sort of get you more in touch with nature, if only to the extent that it will familiarize you with the actual temperature outside, which it's possible you haven't had many opportunities to know. Then, after a particularly hot day, your un-cooled home will have retained all the heat of the afternoon, likely forcing you outdoors into the waiting arms of Nature (and her insect friends) in the evening. However, I bet the Pennsylvanian quoted in the article as an advocate of "rolling with nature" would not also endorse spending a winter without heat, so I suspect that this non-cooling for the sake of natural living platform is a limited one.
But most of the complaints about life without air-conditioning are overblown (!). Sure, it's hot and that makes you sluggish and sleepy. But anything under 100 degrees is perfectly livable for most healthy people. If you don't know what to do with yourself in the heat, may I suggest a nap? Maybe a few hours with a book? Or, you could head over to those places whose air-conditioning you're subsidizing and get your money's worth (the library), or to those places whose air-conditioning is like a free gift to you (the mall). Perhaps what should be added to this article is that life without residential cooling builds community. How about that, yuppies?
The article also points out that keeping the air off can kill your cat. This may be true. My cat becomes sluggish in the heat, but I hope that putting out extra water dishes around the house will keep him hydrated so that I will not have to abandon this great money-saving tradition for the comfort of an angry beast.
The real problem of life without air-conditioning is convincing other people that it's really not a problem. For example, my roommates, who ask, "Why is the air always getting turned off?" (Conveniently, the thermostat lives right outside my bedroom and I am the Supreme Controller of House Temperature.) They do not understand my logic, which I have articulated for them several times clearly enough, "The thought of the money I'm saving cools me off."
First, you can save fully hundreds of dollars a summer. The people in this article claim to have saved thousands, but either their house is massive or their local energy costs tremendous, because my poorly-insulated five-BR house never costs anywhere near that much to cool. So let's put the savings at hundreds. HUNDREDS of dollars. That is a lot of money. Think of how many cups of work-escape coffee that will buy you.
Second, there is no second. This is a blog about saving money, and not using air-conditioning pretty much only saves money, but A LOT of money. Maybe it will bring your family closer together or help you lose weight as the interviewees claim, but I have not tested either of these assertions, so I can't say. It will sort of get you more in touch with nature, if only to the extent that it will familiarize you with the actual temperature outside, which it's possible you haven't had many opportunities to know. Then, after a particularly hot day, your un-cooled home will have retained all the heat of the afternoon, likely forcing you outdoors into the waiting arms of Nature (and her insect friends) in the evening. However, I bet the Pennsylvanian quoted in the article as an advocate of "rolling with nature" would not also endorse spending a winter without heat, so I suspect that this non-cooling for the sake of natural living platform is a limited one.
But most of the complaints about life without air-conditioning are overblown (!). Sure, it's hot and that makes you sluggish and sleepy. But anything under 100 degrees is perfectly livable for most healthy people. If you don't know what to do with yourself in the heat, may I suggest a nap? Maybe a few hours with a book? Or, you could head over to those places whose air-conditioning you're subsidizing and get your money's worth (the library), or to those places whose air-conditioning is like a free gift to you (the mall). Perhaps what should be added to this article is that life without residential cooling builds community. How about that, yuppies?
The article also points out that keeping the air off can kill your cat. This may be true. My cat becomes sluggish in the heat, but I hope that putting out extra water dishes around the house will keep him hydrated so that I will not have to abandon this great money-saving tradition for the comfort of an angry beast.
The real problem of life without air-conditioning is convincing other people that it's really not a problem. For example, my roommates, who ask, "Why is the air always getting turned off?" (Conveniently, the thermostat lives right outside my bedroom and I am the Supreme Controller of House Temperature.) They do not understand my logic, which I have articulated for them several times clearly enough, "The thought of the money I'm saving cools me off."
Monday, June 29, 2009
This blows
So the DIY haircut grew out into the predictable not-quite-mullet form, with a long piece in the back that was too involved to just chop off. I figured the time had come for professional intervention. I figured wrong.
Running out of ideas, I headed to a chain one rung above Super-Cuts in the classiness hierarchy, noticing that a cut was $45, a full $15 less than the ones to which I'd grown accustomed prior to the DIY revelation. A cut with a blow-dry was $70, but given that summer weather has finally arrived in NY, I figured there'd be no need.
Once again, wrong I was. The hairdresser assigned to my case informed me that without the blow-dry, my haircut would not be even. The whole purpose of this haircut was the evening-out of my hair, but it struck me that if they openly offer such a thing as a cut without a blow-dry, surely such a thing is possible, assuming a client not obsessed with perfection. A client, that is, such as myself. It occurred to me that, if this was being pushed on me despite my short hair, the $45/$70 disparity is probably just a PC way of saying what the salon feels is the difference between a men's and women's haircut, regardless of length. Hmm.
So it wasn't that I was wrong about an even haircut resulting from a cut without a blowdry - that much was achieved. Where I erred was in assuming the hairdresser would just go with it once I said that this was what I wanted, minor imperfections being the price I was willing to pay. She kept repeating that I really should get the blow-dry as well, on and on until finally I just explained outright that I'm a student and $45 is possible for me in a way that $70 is not. She either didn't hear or didn't choose to acknowledge this the first time, so after several more urgings to get a blow-out, I repeated my occupation status. She seemed suspicious and wanted to know where I studied. When I said which school (not specifying the program or anything), she held forth about how very smart I must be, which, no hard feelings to my university, surprised me. No one refers euphemistically to going to school 'in Greenwich Village.' I was getting suspicious.
So anyhow, you don't want someone cutting your hair who's angry at you, and by requesting no-blow, I'd set things up to go in this direction. Hoping to mend things, I said very early on in the cut, before much change was detectable, how lovely it looked. This seemed to work, in that superficial way things do when the baseline hostility level's already been established.
Onto the haircut itself: everything about it, other than the price, reminded me why I'd left salons behind in the first place. As someone with hair that's thick not in a Pantene-commercial way, but in an I-can't-fall-asleep-with-it-wet-without-looking-like-I-need-to-be-committed way, I don't especially enjoy when a straight-and-fine-haired hairdresser spends the whole time telling me that I have so much hair, while taking every opportunity to thin it out with special scissors for people with so much hair. Yes, yes, a ton of hair, I'm well aware, yes, it's better than not enough hair, but no, I really have no response to the thickness of my hair being pointed out every time I get my hair cut. (One hairdresser once referred to the thickness of my hair, which was making a blow-dry - included in that cut - take forever by saying 'so hairy', while giggling. That was the best, by far.)
I could tell, as my hair was being cut, that the back was not so much being evened out as turning into a classic men's haircut. Not what I'd asked for at all, but not totally unreasonable for an angled bob, and perhaps pleasant for summer. It was when the hairdresser gelled the back into a bangs-free version of this that I got concerned. Had my cheapness gone that far?
Long story short, after shampooing out the gel and styling the results in a way that did not involve anything being 'spiked', it looks like no hat will be necessary. Beyond that, I'll say no more.
Running out of ideas, I headed to a chain one rung above Super-Cuts in the classiness hierarchy, noticing that a cut was $45, a full $15 less than the ones to which I'd grown accustomed prior to the DIY revelation. A cut with a blow-dry was $70, but given that summer weather has finally arrived in NY, I figured there'd be no need.
Once again, wrong I was. The hairdresser assigned to my case informed me that without the blow-dry, my haircut would not be even. The whole purpose of this haircut was the evening-out of my hair, but it struck me that if they openly offer such a thing as a cut without a blow-dry, surely such a thing is possible, assuming a client not obsessed with perfection. A client, that is, such as myself. It occurred to me that, if this was being pushed on me despite my short hair, the $45/$70 disparity is probably just a PC way of saying what the salon feels is the difference between a men's and women's haircut, regardless of length. Hmm.
So it wasn't that I was wrong about an even haircut resulting from a cut without a blowdry - that much was achieved. Where I erred was in assuming the hairdresser would just go with it once I said that this was what I wanted, minor imperfections being the price I was willing to pay. She kept repeating that I really should get the blow-dry as well, on and on until finally I just explained outright that I'm a student and $45 is possible for me in a way that $70 is not. She either didn't hear or didn't choose to acknowledge this the first time, so after several more urgings to get a blow-out, I repeated my occupation status. She seemed suspicious and wanted to know where I studied. When I said which school (not specifying the program or anything), she held forth about how very smart I must be, which, no hard feelings to my university, surprised me. No one refers euphemistically to going to school 'in Greenwich Village.' I was getting suspicious.
So anyhow, you don't want someone cutting your hair who's angry at you, and by requesting no-blow, I'd set things up to go in this direction. Hoping to mend things, I said very early on in the cut, before much change was detectable, how lovely it looked. This seemed to work, in that superficial way things do when the baseline hostility level's already been established.
Onto the haircut itself: everything about it, other than the price, reminded me why I'd left salons behind in the first place. As someone with hair that's thick not in a Pantene-commercial way, but in an I-can't-fall-asleep-with-it-wet-without-looking-like-I-need-to-be-committed way, I don't especially enjoy when a straight-and-fine-haired hairdresser spends the whole time telling me that I have so much hair, while taking every opportunity to thin it out with special scissors for people with so much hair. Yes, yes, a ton of hair, I'm well aware, yes, it's better than not enough hair, but no, I really have no response to the thickness of my hair being pointed out every time I get my hair cut. (One hairdresser once referred to the thickness of my hair, which was making a blow-dry - included in that cut - take forever by saying 'so hairy', while giggling. That was the best, by far.)
I could tell, as my hair was being cut, that the back was not so much being evened out as turning into a classic men's haircut. Not what I'd asked for at all, but not totally unreasonable for an angled bob, and perhaps pleasant for summer. It was when the hairdresser gelled the back into a bangs-free version of this that I got concerned. Had my cheapness gone that far?
Long story short, after shampooing out the gel and styling the results in a way that did not involve anything being 'spiked', it looks like no hat will be necessary. Beyond that, I'll say no more.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
You Need a New One
Most of thrift is about balancing what you need or want to buy with how much money you've got to spend. But there's an extra category: the things you neither need nor want to replace nor wished to buy in the first place, but that Society tells you you really ought to 'invest' in. Not making these purchases, They inform you, means that you are socially-inept, unhygienic, or just stingy to the point of ignoring your own needs. You might be OK using the same soap for your face and body, wearing the same dress to the office and a bar, and these are things no one would even know about if you didn't tell them, but if you did tell them, They would be horrified. Teenagers, who famously care what others think, are particularly susceptible to the You Need a New One message, but they're hardly alone.
So, some categories to watch out for:
Specialization: To an extent, this is something we're all guilty of. Using different products for shampoo and soap, say, or different outfits for formal and casual occasions. But there are degrees. This is particularly relevant when it comes to kitchen utensils. Anything designed just for a banana, a tomato, etc., can probably be skipped.
Replacements: It's clear enough why 'I needed a new one' is so often summoned as the reason for a purchase. It's not that you wanted a new pair of shoes, but that a particular pair wore out and needs replacement. (I, for one, cannot buy shoes without going through these motions.) But let's get real: not everything that wears out needs replacing, and not everything wears out when They say it does. A commenter here insisted recently that running shoes must be replaced after a certain number of miles and/or years. To me this sounded unnecessary, and I may not be as off as all that. Says one expert, a marathon winner and running-shoe salesman: "I know the shoe companies say 500 miles. I never go by things like that. I go by feel. When you’re on a run and you land on a rock and you feel it on your foot, when that happens you know your shoes have lost a lot of their cushioning or support and you might be wise to invest in another pair of shoes." Indeed. My running shoes are as hideous as can be, and are quite old, but until something changes perceptibly in the fit, no change is necessary.
Personal maintenance: As the recession lifestyle articles courageously reported, it is in fact possible to paint your own nails, rather than go to a salon. This did not surprise anyone other than women from Magical Lifestyle-Journalism Land. But forget about the lavish and the urban. Many basic expectations are, in fact, unnecessary. As MSI has investigated, a daily shampoo is at most a necessity according to season. And, a hint for those of us whose 'ethnic' hair is coarser and thus less societally-desirable than 'white' hair typically is - our hair takes forever to get greasy, so barring intense workouts or extreme heat, we can go the every-other-day (or, dare I say, every-two-day) route year-round. Yes, our hair gets interesting in the rain, but not having to shampoo every five minutes in order to avoid clumping at the scalp is a blessing indeed.
And, more generally, when it comes to beauty products, if you don't already use it, and 'it' isn't deodorant, toothpaste, or eyeliner, best not to start now.
Relaxation: Massages, yoga, days at the spa, months in the wilderness. I sympathize with the need to break up arduous tasks (like, say, returning 26 books to the library, from one's apartment in another borough, all in one go) with treats (say, iced coffee). But the notion that everyone These Days is just so stressed, that Life Today is so fast-paced that we all need to decompress, and that this decompression must manifest itself in ways more involved than parking one's self for a solid three hours in front of reality TV, has gotten out-of-hand. So while I don't advocate denying one's self the small indulgences that make life bearable, I think we'd all be wise to consider the restorative powers of staring at a wall or, failing that, a gossip website, before signing up for anything for which the promised de-stressing will be accompanied by a stress-inducing bill.
In other words, spending 'for others' has its place - going out with friends, gifts - but spending on yourself should not, with some obvious exceptions, take Society into account.
So, some categories to watch out for:
Specialization: To an extent, this is something we're all guilty of. Using different products for shampoo and soap, say, or different outfits for formal and casual occasions. But there are degrees. This is particularly relevant when it comes to kitchen utensils. Anything designed just for a banana, a tomato, etc., can probably be skipped.
Replacements: It's clear enough why 'I needed a new one' is so often summoned as the reason for a purchase. It's not that you wanted a new pair of shoes, but that a particular pair wore out and needs replacement. (I, for one, cannot buy shoes without going through these motions.) But let's get real: not everything that wears out needs replacing, and not everything wears out when They say it does. A commenter here insisted recently that running shoes must be replaced after a certain number of miles and/or years. To me this sounded unnecessary, and I may not be as off as all that. Says one expert, a marathon winner and running-shoe salesman: "I know the shoe companies say 500 miles. I never go by things like that. I go by feel. When you’re on a run and you land on a rock and you feel it on your foot, when that happens you know your shoes have lost a lot of their cushioning or support and you might be wise to invest in another pair of shoes." Indeed. My running shoes are as hideous as can be, and are quite old, but until something changes perceptibly in the fit, no change is necessary.
Personal maintenance: As the recession lifestyle articles courageously reported, it is in fact possible to paint your own nails, rather than go to a salon. This did not surprise anyone other than women from Magical Lifestyle-Journalism Land. But forget about the lavish and the urban. Many basic expectations are, in fact, unnecessary. As MSI has investigated, a daily shampoo is at most a necessity according to season. And, a hint for those of us whose 'ethnic' hair is coarser and thus less societally-desirable than 'white' hair typically is - our hair takes forever to get greasy, so barring intense workouts or extreme heat, we can go the every-other-day (or, dare I say, every-two-day) route year-round. Yes, our hair gets interesting in the rain, but not having to shampoo every five minutes in order to avoid clumping at the scalp is a blessing indeed.
And, more generally, when it comes to beauty products, if you don't already use it, and 'it' isn't deodorant, toothpaste, or eyeliner, best not to start now.
Relaxation: Massages, yoga, days at the spa, months in the wilderness. I sympathize with the need to break up arduous tasks (like, say, returning 26 books to the library, from one's apartment in another borough, all in one go) with treats (say, iced coffee). But the notion that everyone These Days is just so stressed, that Life Today is so fast-paced that we all need to decompress, and that this decompression must manifest itself in ways more involved than parking one's self for a solid three hours in front of reality TV, has gotten out-of-hand. So while I don't advocate denying one's self the small indulgences that make life bearable, I think we'd all be wise to consider the restorative powers of staring at a wall or, failing that, a gossip website, before signing up for anything for which the promised de-stressing will be accompanied by a stress-inducing bill.
In other words, spending 'for others' has its place - going out with friends, gifts - but spending on yourself should not, with some obvious exceptions, take Society into account.
Bringing back the victory garden, indoors
I've been considering how I could go about growing my own herbs for some time now, even before FLG suggested it. It wouldn't really be a move towards actual cost savings in the way not washing my hair would, since I don't currently buy fresh herbs very often. It would a kind of hypothetical cheapness, since I could be paying more if I were paying anything. Plus, I like projects, and basil.
The problem is two-fold, however. First, the garden needs to be indoors so that I can eat basil all year. Second, it needs to be cat-proof. I've considered two options in this direction:
1. I could grow it under artificial lights in my closet. The downside of this is that the LED lamps cost at least $50 (not thrifty), and also that I couldn't use my closet for more useful ends, like clothing storage. Plus, I'd have to constantly explain to people about the "herbs" I'm growing in there.
2. A chicken-wire covering for the plants so that the sun can reach them, but the cat's teeth can't. Chicken wire is only a few bucks, so the cost wouldn't be a huge issue, but it's possible that space constraints in my new apartment will be. How can I convince my roommates that the best use of half our living room floor is for a chicken-wire domed indoor farm?
On a related note, I was recently hunting for Amazon cart filler to get my order up to $25 and qualify for free shipping, and I realized this is always a bad idea to do at the last minute when you just need to stick something--anything--in there to avoid a shipping charge. I typically select ridiculous things like cat toys and muffin pan liners because I don't have time to take stock of all the little things I actually do need. So, to remedy this problem, I started a shopping list on Amazon dedicated specifically to cart filler items that I need generally but not urgently. Now, whenever I think, "Oh, I could really use an X at times like these," I add it to the list. So that next time I need to add $4.70 to my cart, I will remember to buy a tape measure or a flashlight or, now, chicken wire for my basil farm.
The problem is two-fold, however. First, the garden needs to be indoors so that I can eat basil all year. Second, it needs to be cat-proof. I've considered two options in this direction:
1. I could grow it under artificial lights in my closet. The downside of this is that the LED lamps cost at least $50 (not thrifty), and also that I couldn't use my closet for more useful ends, like clothing storage. Plus, I'd have to constantly explain to people about the "herbs" I'm growing in there.
2. A chicken-wire covering for the plants so that the sun can reach them, but the cat's teeth can't. Chicken wire is only a few bucks, so the cost wouldn't be a huge issue, but it's possible that space constraints in my new apartment will be. How can I convince my roommates that the best use of half our living room floor is for a chicken-wire domed indoor farm?
On a related note, I was recently hunting for Amazon cart filler to get my order up to $25 and qualify for free shipping, and I realized this is always a bad idea to do at the last minute when you just need to stick something--anything--in there to avoid a shipping charge. I typically select ridiculous things like cat toys and muffin pan liners because I don't have time to take stock of all the little things I actually do need. So, to remedy this problem, I started a shopping list on Amazon dedicated specifically to cart filler items that I need generally but not urgently. Now, whenever I think, "Oh, I could really use an X at times like these," I add it to the list. So that next time I need to add $4.70 to my cart, I will remember to buy a tape measure or a flashlight or, now, chicken wire for my basil farm.
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