3 Keepers and a Regret is a recurring series on Retail Therapy on Substack where I ask people I admire to name 3 things they’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen — and 1 thing they regret.

Who hasn’t wanted to start something from scratch? To own it and control it. For me, that would be a bookstore selling native plants. And serving amazing coffee. But no pastries, because I’d eat them all. Radio and I would work the hours we want, even though he’s not the best trained dog and sometimes jumps on people. But before I’ve finished dreaming, I’ve done the math. My idea would be a financial disaster — even celebrity authors have a tough go making the numbers work for a bookstore. And I’m over it.

Which is why I’m so glad the world has people like , founding editor of Geezer magazine. Where I can only see dollar signs, she did the thing. And I respect the hell out of her for that. She’s taken the idea and created a print publication – when nearly all have shut down – for “readers who believe in kicking ass in their second half.”

When I got my first copy of Geezer in the mail, I couldn’t figure out what it was. The over-large envelope (11 x 15) was from a return address I didn’t recognize. I figured it was something else I didn’t remember buying. When I opened it to reveal Issue No. 2 I was like a kid with the toy catalog at Christmas. This thing was awesome. Way bigger than any mail I typically get and far better than anything close to that heft in paper.

It’s gorgeous, a true work of art with pieces written by talented writers getting paid for their words. Geezer is a magazine that doubles as a coffee table book. I have mine out on display – proudly. Below is the cover of issue No. 2 with awesome art by .

Three Keepers

3 things you’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen

No. 1 — My diamond ring

My diamond ring, passed down from generations of women.

The lore is that my family was “minor royalty” in Germany, forced to flee an uprising in the mid-1800s. The women sewed their best jewelry into their clothing before setting out on an afternoon stroll. The family never returned home, catching a boat for the United States instead. This is the last of that jewelry, and even when my grandmother was 15 and penniless—canning spinach at the Del Monte factory in Monterey, California to support her brothers—she kept the ring.

I wear it every day to remind me of the strength and resilience of the woman who came before me. Read the full story of the ring at !

No. 2 — Wonder Woman mosaic portrait

I have been lucky to be surrounded by talented artists for most of my life, and the inimitable Jason Mecier is one of them.

He creates brilliant mosaics out of random stuff, turning trash into triumphs like my 36 x 26 inch portrait of Wonder Woman. (I also own a smaller portrait of Bette Davis made of beans and noodles.) If you look closely, you’ll see all sorts of hidden pop culture gems: a Krylon glitter container, half of what I’m pretty sure is Ultraman, an “I voted” sticker next to a used Hunt’s ketchup packet. Her skin is made of lyrics from Lynda Carter’s 1978 album, Portrait! (That’s meta on meta on meta.)

Jason and I used to perform together in San Francisco, doing these crazy drag queen rock musicals back in the 90s — so not only do I love the aesthetics of his artwork, but it reminds me of a time that is very close to my heart. Like, seriously...I used to be cool!

No. 3 — My mom’s groovy halter dress

This vintage 1970s halter was somewhere in my mom’s closet growing up, but I don’t remember appropriating it until I was in college. This, along with another super-cool 1960s mini-dress that I used as a costume when I played a hooker in the musical Sweet Charity, are the only two pieces of clothing I dragged with me throughout my life.

The audacity of these colors, the unrepentant jungle pattern, the insouciant plunge of the neckline – I love, love, love them all. While I’m not very flashy in my everyday wear, give me a chance to rock a costume in the right environment (this pic was taken during a friend’s roller-skating birthday party — so, yes, I am accessorizing with skates), and it is ON.

One Regret

now the regret

RIP my Ann Demeulemeester riding boots

While I’m in no way a fashionista, as the OG influencers were called, I have always understood the importance of quality footwear. Which is why in 2007 I plonked down $250 I didn’t have for a gorgeous pair of iconic black riding boots by Ann Demeulemeester, down from $800 at one of Barney’s legendary NYC warehouse sales.

At the time, I was an associate creative director in the advertising industry, which is second only to the fashion world in snobbery. In fact, one of my big clients was Louis Vuitton. So when I found these boots in my size I nabbed them on the spot. They made me feel powerful and posh, the perfect combination for an ambitious creative professional.

Sadly, they did not survive the great bed bug invasion of 2009, when I had to throw out everything I couldn’t heat to a bazillion degrees in the dryer. I remember the sadness of the moment when I said goodbye, shoving them unceremoniously into a large, sad trash bag. In hindsight, I should have sealed them up and shoved them in the back of my closet for a few years. But you don’t mess around when bed bugs come out to play, so I cut bait on anything that didn’t have sentimental value. Alas, in their absence, their sentimental value has grown.

Why I’m Still Shopping

Unlike Laura, I never was cool. I don’t have any royalty bloodlines or centuries-old diamonds, either. But what stories!

Now, I just want to be comfortable in my own skin, and I try by buying things. I’m far better off surrounding myself with people who are authentically themselves, shopping be damned.

When I travel, I never put a suitcase on the ground of any hotel room because I have a fear of what I might take home with me in the form of bed bugs. I also stopped using the coffee maker in the room, but that’s for another day. And apparently if we’ve got great stuff, bed bugs will come for all of us, anyway.

Today, instead of shopping, I’m supporting dreamers who are believers. They are making things happen in the world, and we can’t have enough of them.

Thanks to for playing. No matter your age, you won’t want to miss out on Geezer magazine showing up in your mailbox. It’s a real treat!

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

Post-Game Report: Updates on the World Cup Financials

July 22, 2026: the over-time final game brought out the numbers.

• $1.2 billion: wagered predicting the World Cup winner

• $51 million: to Argentina for its victory

• $15 billion: revenue straight to FIFA, according to President Gianni Infantino, exceeding the expected $11 billion.

• 25 million: combined average viewers for semifinal games on Fox and Telemundo

Interesting take from on which brands won the most and why.

For those lucky enough to attend today’s match, where Spain and Argentina face off, you’ll be spending a pretty penny. Many, in fact. The 2026 World Cup final in New Jersey is expected to be the most expensive sporting event in U.S. history.

The cost for 1 person to attend is between $10K and $15K, and that’s just for the ticket, according to estimates from Forbes. Want to sleep within 1-mile of MetLife Stadium? The weekend bill is $4,500.

Some of the biggest winners of the World Cup are either mind-boggling or completely obvious. No in-between. Millions of fans have visited from all over the world to attend games across 39 days. Hits include hash browns from Waffle House. Duh.

Reactions to Waymo’s driverless cars are curious and cautious, like all of us the first time we ride in one. Then, the appeal is obvious. The cars are new and clean. And no one is trying to make small talk. It’s heaven.

The WSJ pins the biggest win on Ranch dressing, which International visitors are loving and slurping up. Last month Hidden Valley Ranch said sales were up 20%. Likely a result of the 60K packets of Ranch sent to stadiums for fans to indulge.

Many are trying to take their new-found delight home. To the point TSA had to do an official announcement telling travelers to pack their Ranch in a checked suitcase, only. Dressing isn’t allowed in a carry-on.

The U.S. hasn’t hosted the FIFA World Cup since 1994. Back when Bill Clinton was president. Remember him?

We didn’t even have a professional soccer team at the time. Now there are 27 teams in the US and 3 in Canada. As the rest of the world might say, we’re finally catching on.

Spending on ads during the 100-game tournament hit $857 million. More than half of that money is being spent on English-language content.

The spend has been spread across 4,500 different brands, which is pretty insane to wrap your brain around. The 20 official sponsors spent ~$309 million. But all of that is money spent just in the US and only through the semifinals, so the total number will be higher.

It’s a ton of money, but it’s also spread across dozens of games. For context, this year $720 million was spent on ads during the Super Bowl. I don’t even remember who played, but I did check out the commercials.

My take? It’s a refreshing change that we’re finally hearing about teams other than the ones that always dominate our attention. Yes I’m talking to you, Dallas Cowboys, New York Yankees and Los Angeles Lakers. Although I did see Derek Jeter at Starbucks and swooned. Those eyes. So refreshing! Spend away.

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

3 Keepers and a Regret is a recurring series on Retail Therapy on Substack where I ask people I admire to name 3 things they’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen — and 1 thing they regret.

In my heart of hearts, I’d like to be a humor writer. I can say funny things, but I’m not good at exaggerating to the point of absurdity, which is often needed in comedy. I find truth stranger and more interesting than fiction. Especially in the nitty gritty details of life. The former reporter in me likes to dig.

actually does funny — for a living. I don’t remember how I came across her, but when I did, I became obsessed, a bit, and wanted to know every detail of her job life. Not in a creepy “call the authorities” way. But, if you’ll sit down with me I’ll ask you questions for days, kinda way. Laurel lands a one-liner, every time. And she does comedy IRL. Which I would never.

Laurel also writes comedy — with pieces in places where I can’t get published, including . On Substack she shares industry news, trends and writing jobs. Anyone who’s sharing gigs where writers get paid real money to be funny is basically a God in my book.

As Founder and Creative Director of Free Puppies, Laurel helps brands find their funny bone — and proves humor drives revenue. And she isn’t joking. As for the free puppies, who doesn’t want them? Probably anyone who’s had them recently and isn’t ready for another. But, when not a lot out there is fun or funny, bring it. Please.

Three Keepers

3 things you’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen

No. 1 — My SNL tickets

From 2009-2012, guests of the cast and writers at SNL reported to the illustrious “Laurel’s Line” on the lobby floor of 30 Rock to wait for a brutal tyrant to check their name on a clipboard, give them their show tickets, and have a trembling intern lead them through security up to Lorne Michaels’s office, cast dressing rooms, or the real party, the writers’ room. That tyrant was me and I kept one ticket from each show. They live in a bag in my home office to remind me that I once didn’t recognize the Coen brothers and Ed Norton complimented my f-me Louboutins.

No. 2 — Gold disc button necklace

My great-grandfather lived in a version of Chicago where, when it was a REAL party, men wore white tie with fancy ass buttons. When my grandmother passed I inherited a dozen or so of such buttons. Each is a flat gold disc topped with a diamond. My dad had them put on a gold cord so I can wear them as a necklace for my REAL parties, which I hope to have someday. Right now my social roster is mostly toddler Storytimes at public libraries.

No. 3 — Phone

My phone, because it’s a major organ I use more often than my liver (I’m sober).

One Regret

now the regret

During Covid I felt that if the world was probably ending, and I was a hardworking, single 30-something writer and woman, I may as well go down owning property. I bought a house I couldn’t really afford, but guess what? The damn world bounced back! Wait, a mortgage is how long?! Eff! I actually sold that house yesterday and now I can get my boobs done. Kidding! Save for college, of course. America!

Why I’m Still Shopping

I’ve never forgotten a quote from someone in the beer business when I was a reporter: “You can laugh with a beer or cry with a beer.” Clearly Laurel is choosing to laugh, just without the beer.

Memories come in all forms, from pieces of paper to a hand-me-down necklace made from buttons with diamonds. Laurel proves that truth is way more interesting than fiction.

I write a lot about money and the surrounding decisions. Rarely does someone own a choice that didn’t add up for them financially. I’ve met too many people who are house rich and cash poor. They suffer, refusing to make the change that would make life doable. Laurel made the bold decision and sold the house. I want to celebrate this and throw her a roller skating party. Although that’s how I busted out my front tooth in fourth grade. So maybe not.

Alas, Laurel and I aren’t the same. I live in flats and can’t stomach a heel taller than 2 inches, and even that’s a stretch most days. Her fantasy is to be in the “What’s In My Bag” feature in US Weekly. I fear showing up as a fashion “Don’t” in Glamour. Which is why I will probably be forever shopping, trying to feel like I got it right.

Huge thanks to of Free Puppies, which comes out twice a week full of comedy news, jobs, trends, and gossip!

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

My long July 4 long holiday weekend included lots of what the month is all about — ice cream. The first night was fresh cantaloupe with a dollop of chocolate sauce. The next was apple pie and vanilla ice cream. But the show stopper was finally getting to visit Four Seas on Cape Cod.

It’s a local staple dating back to 1934. A destination with a constant line that moves faster than you’d expect. It’s infamous for flavors like black raspberry. Not that I ordered it. When I’ve got something I love – like good queso, hello melted cheese – it’s what I always order on my first visit somewhere.

With ice cream it’s cookies and cream. Always. This time I even got a double scoop and the souvenir ringer t-shirt.

I took longer than the others to eat, by a long shot. I was savoring it and didn’t feel guilty at all.

Checking out the best local ice cream spots is one of my favorite things to do while traveling. I always seem to pick the spots with the longest lines on earth, which drives my partner nuts.

As a kid it was chocolate chip stirred up so it got melty. I added pretzels, but only in the original shape. Sticks and rods just weren’t the same. On occasion, I’d veer to mint chocolate chip.

Then, at some point I just stopped eating ice cream. Totally. Without exception. I can’t say why. It’s my tell. I don’t deviate. I can’t explain it or share the reasoning.

The ban lasted decades. Until I again flipped the same all-or-nothing extremist switch that got me there in the first place. And I started eating ice cream again. But only cookies and cream.

President Ronald Reagan declared July National Ice Cream Month in 1984. Nothing beats the government legislating permission. And I’m hellbent on celebrating.

The industry isn’t banking on us eating more –– rather eating better. We’re not going for the fake crap. We only want the good stuff with the premium price tag. Made with real cream so it’s thick and creamy. In a way you can taste the difference.

I’m doing my part. After the visit to Four Seas we went to Boston, and J.P. Licks was on the menu. And like an idiot, I broke my cardinal rule. I ordered peanut butter cookies and cream. I didn’t even sample it, first, thinking I was taking my favorite and punching it up a notch. Not. I didn’t like it. At all. And that was only a bite or two in. It was too rich and too chocolatey.

I pouted and berated myself. I know better. I can’t mess with what works.

I actually contemplated going up to the counter and telling them I made a mistake. To ask if I could change flavors. But I would have had to wait in line again.

Luckily my partner, Gary, ordered Oatmeal Butterscotch Cookie Batter without a taste test. He loved it and it pisses me off when he orders better than me. Luckily, he shared. It was nice. Way better than mine. But definitely not cookies and cream.

What can I say? The wiring doesn’t change, just the output.

Tell me what you stopped and started again. Doesn't matter what — just the thing you were sure you'd never do again, until you did. Comment with yours.

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When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

3 Keepers and a Regret is a recurring series on Retail Therapy on Substack where I ask people I admire to name 3 things they’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen — and 1 thing they regret.

As a former journalist, when I come across someone who’s worked at some of the biggest magazines, I’m always a bit jealous and a lot curious. I want to know how they’ve done it and sneak a peek into their life and success. That’s why Sade Strehlke is my guest on this week’s 3 Keepers.

Sade served as the editor in chief at POPSUGAR after time at other lifestyle publications including SHAPE, Refinery29 and Teen Vogue. As the Home editorial head at WalMart, she opted out of moving to Arkansas for the job. I get it.

Since then, the mom of three has gone out on her own. Her Substack is Resting Rich Face, which is something I think I want? And she’s launching Roux and the waitlist is open.

Three Keepers

3 things you’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen

No. 1 — Francesco Balzano custom table

My Francesco Balzano, custom, resin, pink, 600-lb. dining table. Cost $45K, I acquired it from a private seller on FB Marketplace, whose whole house I basically bought for a fraction of the price!

No. 2 — The Row black mink coat

The Row black mink coat, also from FB Marketplace seller, still had the Barneys New York tags on it, $27.5K, but I got it for $1,500 from someone who was ridding herself of her ex-husband’s gifts that she never uses. She also had two others, a pink, purplish one and a red one — the latter was still available, also for $1,500 and I’ll never forgive myself for not getting that one too.

No. 3 — Shakudo locket from husband

A rare Shakudo — a traditional Japanese metallurgical alloy composed primarily of copper with a small amount of gold, made by Japanese metalsmiths after the fall of the Samurai class — locket that my husband gave me for Christmas. It was super expensive and I begged him to get me a Miele dishwasher instead, but he insisted and wrote the sweetest note. It's of a traditional Japanese rickshaw puller carrying a woman through the mud, and he said he will always carry me. Once you've been together for almost 20 years, it's hard to get sentimental (at least for us haha), but this hit me. And, whenever I wear it, I get endless compliments from the most stylish people.

One Regret

now the regret

My AGA 48", double oven, black matte, induction range. Called the "Elise," it's gorgeous. I got it (new, since I'm such a vintage shopper haha) during the pandemic, waited 9 months for it and it now retails for double the price. It up leveled my kitchen, but two ovens in a 48" range? Regular pans don't fit and because it's such a special piece, when one of the ovens broke, it took a year for the warranty company to find someone who could actually fix it. When we gut our kitchen soon, I'm swapping it for a custom L'Atelier Paris range that they're going to custom match to my beloved Balzano dining table — European design, construction, but made in the USA with top notch service.

Why I’m Still Shopping

Sade’s 3 Keepers exposed me to a lot I was totally unaware of and sorta wish I didn’t know existed. Too often I learn about something new, feel left out and unaware, then fixate on thinking I need it. So I’m ultimately better off never knowing these things exist.

As for Sade, she gives us a history lesson, a bit of a fashion show, and some interior design know-how. This mom of three has figured out how to make all aspects of life look good. Somehow. And I’m starting to understand her M.O. on the goal to “still look expensive,” no matter the situation or the NYC summer heat. It all evades me, to the point I sometimes wonder why I try.

I appreciate learning about Shakudo and definitely have a new take on Facebook Marketplace. Sade’s significant scores have me reconsidering my avoidance.

Having just been through a remodel myself, I understand Sade’s oven disappointment. Mine is in the form of a dishwasher. Sure, all the appliances now match, but it’s much noisier than the practically new one it replaced. Between all the glasses I go through each day drinking various beverages, and all of Radio’s food containers and bowls, it always seems to be on. I can’t not hear the gurgling.

It’s also become obvious we now need window coverings in two rooms but we’re going without because the cost is obscene — we just spent boatloads of money. Sure the neighborhood may see me walk around naked, but they don’t have to look or they can just close their eyes.

Sade’s keepers and regret have definitely schooled me on things I never knew existed. I skip fur and you’ll never hear me ask for any appliance as a gift because I barely cook. It’s everything else that’s my danger zone. A few minutes ago I didn’t know it was possible to find anything from The Row with tags still intact and at a price I can afford. Now I want to find that. So I’ll spend all night looking instead of sleeping. That’s the actual problem. Wanting only requires knowing.

Thanks to Sade Strehlke of Resting Rich Face. If you know someone else who can't unsee an item, this post is for them.

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

3 Keepers and a Regret is a recurring series on Retail Therapy on Substack where I ask people I admire to name 3 things they’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen — and 1 thing they regret.

When I stumbled onto I Want to be Her! by Andrea Linett, I was immediately sucked into the vortex. The force was so strong, it creeped me out. I had to ask myself: how is it possible that I want to buy practically everything someone else is sharing?

It was only after I was converted that I started to understand why Andrea is so good at what she does. She was behind the magazines we studied like school work: Lucky, Sassy and Harper’s Bazaar. She discovered Chloë Sevigny on a New York street corner.

Andrea has mastered the art of making it look effortless. It’s familiar and appealing, with a mix of old and new. It’s different yet defined. All are looks that you couldn’t walk into a store and recreate. Rather something that has to come from within.

When Andrea shared her appreciation of the Grateful Dead’s iconic dancing bear, I knew. That was my code for “she’s my kind of people.”

Three Keepers

3 things you’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen

No. 1 — My dad’s gold Phi Beta Kappa key

My dad's gold Phi Beta Kappa key from Williams. He kept it in a drawer, and now I've got it on a leather cord. It's a cool-looking piece to wear, and, of course, it holds a ton of sentimental value.

No. 2 — Vintage leather jacket

A vintage leather jacket that I never wore until I realized the proportion was off. I had a talented tailor crop it to the exact right spot and now people stop me to inquire every time I have it on (sometimes all it takes is that one tweak). p.s. This works with everything---think about it before you toss something over fit or proportion. I’ve taken vintage men’s button-downs that fit more like dresses and had them cropped to a good length.

No. 3 — New Standard A.P.C. jeans & dad’s Levi’s shirts

A pair of old New Standard A.P.C. jeans that fit me like no other (you’d think they’re all the same, but, alas, not).

I have two of my dad’s old Levi’s chambray shirts from the ‘70s and wear them with everything. Needless to say, these aren’t going anywhere!

One Regret

now the regret

Not the regret you're looking for, but I accidentally threw out a favorite pair of trashed army pants during a closet clean-out that I had customized with Chanel buttons. I get upset every time I think about them! I know that's not what you meant by "regrets", but any fashion regrets get given away or sold (like the Rick Owens over-the-knee boots I thought gave me instant cool status, and you know what? Maybe they did at the time but I cringe when I see photos of myself in them).

Why I’m Still Shopping

How refreshing to hear someone who’s spent a lifetime in fashion favoring the items from their father — his gold key on a cord around her neck, his denim shirts on her shoulders — above and beyond any brand.

Andrea encourages me to shop in my own closet, first. When given the chance, I will go shopping in someone else’s closet, too. From friends to estate sales, my eyes are open for my own keepers that will help define my style.

Because of course everything can’t be brand new, nor should it. By mixing what you already own with something new, then it’s uniquely you. That’s inspiring. It encourages me to get dressed and put in the effort. Because it’s doable, not daunting.

If an unworn item can turn into a keeper in the hands of a tailor, I need to heed that advice. I swear I had five pairs of pants in the car today to have shortened because the length is just silly. But it was sweltering in the 100 degree heat of a hot car, I was damp and just couldn’t bother. I’m committing to myself that I will take Andrea’s advice and get my items tailored. If they still don’t work, they’re moving on to someone else. But it may not happen until there’s a cold front.

As for finding the right pair of jeans that fit, uncle. If Andrea has got those legs and struggles, no wonder it feels like hell for the rest of us.

Thanks to for sharing. Subscribe to I Want to be Her!

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

Recently I ran out of Retail Therapy business cards and needed more. The first batch was a rush job at FedEx. It required going to pick them up in-person, and there are few places I dislike more than there. I’d rather go to the US Post Office than FedEx, where they’re always trying to get you to do their job. I’ve seen people working there who’d rather vacuum than help you.

I decided to be a good person and get them printed locally. It cost me more money and took longer than if I ordered them online and had them delivered. They look amateur, like I printed them at home. The font is so little you need a magnifying glass to see what it says. I say that as someone who doesn’t require glasses to see up close. The paper is cheap and I didn’t get the rounded corners I wanted. It’s a 32-cent regret 500 times over. All for a card that no one can read.

I wish I’d been more clever and gone with custom matchbooks. I definitely would have been on trend, which isn’t something I can typically claim. It may feel like we’re suddenly hearing about the resurgence of matchbooks, thanks to a Bloomberg report attributing it to the 29 and under Gen Z crowd. Not because they’re smoking. If anything, they’re vaping or using nicotine pouches, like ZYN. None of which requires being ignited. The rising popularity has been a slow burn.

Think about it: of course matches are appealing. If it’s a box, they’re noisy and you can shake it. Tactile, you had to touch them and turn it around to get a better look. And then there is the scent: the distinctness of sulfur.

Recently I was at a great seafood restaurant in Vancouver and I couldn’t help but pick up the box of matches on the way out and slip them into my bag. But why? I then had to wonder “can you take these on a plane?” I’m only traveling carry-on. Leaving a Buck Mason empty handed — because of course whatever items I was there to try on were sold out in all sizes. But the matches were for the taking.

Joe Dan­non has been in the custom match business for 36 years. In 2004, he went on his own and started the Match Group. Over the past three years, sales there have grown 75% every year, year-over-year.

The allure is that it’s old school. Not digital. It’s a memento and something to show on the Socials. Because how else will the world know you were there?

Maple & Ash steakhouses hand out 30,000 gold-embossed matchbooks each year across their loc­a­tions. For as little as a nickel or costing up to $2 a box — depending on complexity and quantity — it’s a nice touch to have sitting next to a candle at home. It’s like a polaroid or a ticket stub. A keepsake from a night out.

Matches actually had a practical start, back in the day. Before the mass production of disposable lighters. You might get a box with the bill at a restaurant or find them in an ashtray at the bar.

As a kid, they were taboo. You were told you could look but not touch. So when you’d come across a collection of them, all you wanted to do was play with them. My grandfather used it to light his pipe. My parents would use the sturdy stick to light the bbq, quickly flicking the match away, highlighting its danger. A practice only to be performed by an adult.

A mother and daughter duo started Oh, What a Match to highlight the appeal of col­lect­ing. They’ve turned the hobby into a business that also hosts social events for the serious.

Various city guides highlight the restaurants offering the best matchbooks. Here’s Charlotte and Indianapolis. In New Orleans, “counter service joint” Turkey and the Wolf even sells their fun matches online for $5.

It’s not just restaurants. If your house is swanky, or you want it to be, you can do custom matches for your house, too. It’s a hosting touch for everyone who visits. Assuming they don’t spill red wine on the white sofa.

The deeper I go, the more I’m kicking myself. The options are endless and affordable. I could have spent slightly more — 50 cents each vs. 32 cents for the cards — for something far superior. A price I would have happily paid to be proud of what I’m sharing. Instead, my business cards depress me. I’m embarrassed to hand them out.

Matches are a marketing tool and gimmick, all in one. I’d leave a blank spot inside each matchbook where someone could write a note. And I’ll sprinkle them about at the coffee shop, gym and women’s lounge of stores I like.

Sure it will be odd to carry lots of matches in my purse, especially when my bag dumps out somewhere. Or when I get pulled over for running a red light. I’ll never be able to find them, lodged in the bottom of my bag. Probably with the Merit Lip Blush missing since March.

Please tell me you have a worse business card story? Drop it in the comments, which are open to everyone. I need to know I'm not alone.

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When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

During a remodel, our home was broken into over a long holiday weekend and ransacked. They took all of my purses in the house, including a Gucci shoulder bag in a great denim print with patent leather, and a Stella McCartney snakeskin crossbody with a chunky gold chain.

They also took all my business cards and ID badges that I’ve saved from my jobs over the years. Those aren’t replaceable. But I can buy a new purse. I’ve tried. A few different times. But I just haven’t been able to pull the trigger on something new.

My “Needs”

In the past, I’d walk into a brand boutique, try on a few styles, and leave with my prize. But now, I keep leaving empty handed, feeling a bit like Goldilocks. Nothing is quite right.

I want a crossbody big enough to hold everything, including my oversized eyeglasses case, and have it still zip properly. But not so big that it feels like I’m hauling around a piece of luggage.

And then there is the price. What used to be $1,500 is now $3K+. That’s money that can buy a significant piece of jewelry, a great vacation or half of a chin lift. Buying a purse goes from treating yourself to starting to feel like a financial decision. And one that’s uncomfortable. Like when you start considering houses that exceed your stretch budget.

Indecisive, I look around. Every Real Housewife, celeb and influencer is now wearing the bags I’m considering. That didn’t used to be the case. The images only appeared as part of ads. But now celebrity gossip is marketing everything they’re wearing, much of which they got for free and they’re way wealthier than me.

“I’m not like these people. If this is the purse they’re buying…maybe it isn’t the bag for me.”

Price Gouging

Take Louis Vuitton’s Pochette bag. When it first came out it was cute and felt like a justifiable high few hundred dollars. But since 2019, the price has tripled — to $1,710.

Between 2020 and 2023, Dior raised prices 51%, and Chanel 59%. That means a $2,000 bag became $3,180.

Brands have gotten greedy, to the point they are gouging us. It feels like a cash grab straight out of our wallets. And we’re balking at the ballsiness.

It’s why sales at LVMH fell 2% during the first quarter this year. Overall, luxury bag sales are down 10% from the peak in 2023, data from Bain shows. That equates to a loss of $8 billion, very real dollars.

Last year the luxury handbag market hit $35 billion. If this downcycle continues, the market will never grow to the $61 billion size projected by 2035.

Brands are starting to get the hint that we’re not willing to pay more just for the honor of carrying the right brand of bag.

Recognizing that bottom line growth won’t continue with price increases alone, some labels are trying to quietly shift the narrative. You’ll notice they’re talking about quality and improvements, as if to give a quiet nod suggesting that’s what’s triggered the higher prices. Think Gucci and Dior.

Brands will continue to lead us to believe certain “it” bags are an investment with intrinsic value. It’s a smart marketing move, getting us to think of a bag as a “safe” investment instead of a purchase.

Recently I wrote about selling some of the purses that didn’t get stolen to FASHIONPHILE. I ended up with $1,600 in gift cards for Neiman Marcus that I planned to use to buy a new purse. Until I found out the brands I would buy weren’t accepting the gift cards because of the company’s financial troubles. I should have taken the cash. Big mistake.

There are two purses I regret selling: a cream leather giant Gucci shopper. It wasn’t at all practical, too heavy, but fabulous. And the Louis Vuitton x Yayoi Kusama Dots Red Waves Neverfull limited edition. Both are purses that, if I still had today, I’d be wearing because no one else is carrying them.

What It Looks Like IRL

Stylist Kelly Klein shows us what this looks like in practice – vintage Louis Vuitton styled like it was always hers — while shopping in NYC.

“It says she did the work,” Kelly said. “She took time to source the thing, she didn’t just buy the thing. And usually the bag has a little history to it that makes it feel more hers than anything she could have walked in and bought new.”

Second-hand luxury handbags sales have risen 20% since 2023 on The RealReal. Increasingly, resale platforms and vintage dealers are the places to buy.

As for me, my conviction is getting there. I’m not breaking up with luxury handbags. I’m just not buying new ones. I refuse to keep dropping a few thousand dollars on a bag the entire world is carrying. That move feels like dumb money.

What’s the luxury purchase you’ve quietly stopped justifying? A bag, a brand, a category. Tell me in the comments.

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When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

3 Keepers and a Regret is a recurring series on Retail Therapy on Substack where I ask people I admire to name 3 things they’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen — and 1 thing they regret.

After 17 years as a pediatric nurse practitioner, left that career behind at the age of 40. She built a career as a respected fashion journalist, something typically reserved for the young.

Her work still appears in the most significant publications, despite the slaughtering of careers throughout the industry. Among them: Financial Times, Bloomberg, the New York Times and . I’ve been pitching these places forever with zero success.

What draws me to Chery’s work is how she helps give us a safety net to navigate all the anti-aging options blasted at us. She helps us stay sane among the insanity.

You’ll also find her “nicely sarcastic” words at Good For Your Age on Substack. If you owned a Dr. Pepper Lip Smackers, you’ll feel right at home here.

At 50 — not to be outdone by 40 — Cheryl became a birder. “Looking at birds gets me outside and off my phone, plus they have zero judgment about whether or not you have gray hair.”

Three Keepers

3 things you’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen

No. 1 — New Balance 327 Sneakers

I’m on my third and fourth pairs of these sneakers (I just bought one pair in black with a subtle leopard accent and one in cream to replace my last pair that had worn out.) I found these a few years ago and am tempted to buy three more pairs just in case New Balance stops making them, because sneakers are always becoming obsolete. They are incredibly comfortable — not too squishy and not too flat. I can walk for miles in them. Plus I love the shape, and they come in some fun colorways. This may be confirmation bias, but I also think they’re the official sneaker of the 40-plus set. I see them on people my age constantly. We just nod knowingly at each other.

No. 2 — the components for a double cleanse*

I’ve been double cleansing my face for over 15 years. This means you start with either a cleansing balm or cleansing oil to remove sunscreen, makeup, and general gunkiness, then cleanse a second time with a more traditional gel cleanser to get the oil and any remaining icky stuff off your face. I first learned about it years ago at an Elemis skincare event, but it stuck after I got really into K-beauty in the 2010s. The gold standard that I buy most frequently is the Then I Met You Living Cleansing Balm, though I recently splurged and bought a black cherry-scented Elemis cleansing balm. It smells like melted cherry Lip Smackers. If I use oil as the first step instead of balm, I almost always buy Klairs. I don’t really have loyalty to any one product for the second step cleanse, except that it must never be too foaming or stripping. But the one I buy most frequently is probably Indie Lee Brightening Cleanser. It smells like strawberry. I don’t know what this says about me that I like to wash my face with fruit.

*These links are for your convenience, only. They aren’t affiliate links.

No. 3 — Nikon Monarch M5 Binoculars

Like many other people, I started birding during the pandemic. It clicked for me, and I became semi-obsessed with it. Birding has so much going for it: gets you outside, keeps you off your phone (except for the Merlin app, which is a must-have if you bird), challenges your memory as you learn the identifying characteristics and calls, gives you membership into a kooky little subculture, provides you a hobby you can do anywhere. (Seriously, some of the best birding I’ve done was in cities. Spring migration in New York City draws people from all over.) Plus, if you keep a life list, it’s like a game. I went to Panama last year and birded all day everyday for six days straight. It was incredible. The Nikon Monarch M5 binoculars are always recommended to beginning birders, and they served me well for five years. (I’ve since upgraded, but I loan them out all the time, and they’re still going strong.)

One Regret

now the regret

I’ve paid for Weight Watchers on and off since I was in my 20s. The last time I did it was probably 2022, as I was facing the repercussions of sitting around during the pandemic and perimenopause. What a waste of time, money, and mindspace, but fifty years of diet culture is hard to shake. As I navigate midlife and a changing body, I’m trying to be kinder to myself.

Why I’m Still Shopping

Cheryl found the perfect shoe and of course two pairs aren’t enough. Styles get discontinued constantly. It’s why this season I’ve bought a number of items in triplicate: jeans from Madewell in three different washes; pull-on pants from Gap Outlet in three different colors; and three colors of the Foundation V-Neck Tank from Athleta. I also did this with two other types of pants, in three and five colors, but I think you get the picture.

I have to imagine Cheryl’s skin-care routine smells delicious. I find the number of steps daunting. How does she keep track? There’s probably an app for that. I’ve learned the hard way to not buy skincare products just because they work for someone else. The amount of money I’ve spent on things I only used once is horrifying. And you can’t donate it because it’s been opened.

Cheryl’s birding activity overlaps with my obsession with native plants. They attract each other. While I can appreciate birds, I haven’t gotten into birding. Looking in binoculars always freaks me out. But I do feel like I’d be comfortable going with Cheryl and having her as my guide. Not that she offered.

As for the regret, Cheryl says the awkward part outloud. No amount of therapy or self-help has blocked out the noise of diet culture. I still hear it. It tells me everything is wrong with my body and my approach to not gaining weight. And when I’m most uncomfortable in my own skin, I return to what’s familiar, like Weight Watchers or cutting carbs. Even when I already know it doesn’t work.

Thanks to for sharing her skincare shelf. Put on your Kissing Potion and go subscribe to Good For Your Age.

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

You can get it in pizza, popcorn, pasta, Pop-Tarts, pancakes, potatoes and pints. Globally, it’s the No. 1 food and beverage trend for 2026. And 70% of adults say they’re consuming more, up from 59% in 2022. We’re talking about protein. And I’m one of them.

Protein has replaced our clean eating, fat-free and low-carb as the diet of the decade.

We’ve become so obsessed, the ingredients used to make our protein products are becoming scarce. Yes, there is an actual shortage of inputs for our protein purchases. It’s hard to believe, given there are plenty of products on the shelves and prices have remained stable.

But just wait.

Some producers have already run out of the inventory they expected to last the entire year. Today’s shortages won’t show up as higher prices for 12 to 18 months.

Meanwhile, the demand continues to grow. And food manufacturers are responding by creating more products they can pack with protein. Because our desire is insatiable and we will seemingly buy anything, as long as it’s got enough protein. Flavor be-damned.

Costco reported strong earnings this month, in part driven by all of our protein purchases.

“Anything protein right now is doing extremely well,” Costco’s CFO said.

We Did This to Ourselves

We’re consuming so much protein, we’ve created a shortage. A self-imposed one, no less.

Expect to see price hikes next year. Which will only drive the demand higher. Because we all want what we can’t have, and the lack of availability will stimulate our desire.

We’ll pay the higher prices because that’s the nutty way our brains work, once we’ve convinced ourselves our behavior is “good” for ourselves. The “I’m so busy” has been replaced by the angst of “I’ve not hit my protein today.”

Blame the Shots. Or Don’t.

Our reasons for packing protein vary. There’s a perception that the interest is sudden and explicitly linked to the fact more people are using GLP-1 drugs for weight loss. About 12% of the population has used or is on the meds, with my age cohort making up the largest group of users. They need to up their protein consumption to maintain their muscle mass. Which burns more calories than fat. And it’s necessary as we age. You know, so we can get up when we fall.

But the protein fad didn’t just start. From my first tech job in the late 90s, people were making protein shakes with blenders they brought in from home. We lugged powders and brought liquids. But we weren’t manic like we are now.

I’ve used powders and shakes for years. The Vitamix — the second one, not the first — was a protein decision. But I didn’t call it that. It was justified as an upgrade.

The Math Is Brutal

Part of what’s driving the consumption craze is how difficult it is to consume the amount of protein we’re told we need each day. I’ve been working with a nutritionist for more than 18 months. What she tells me is consistent. It doesn’t change. I need at least 100 grams of protein a day to lose weight.

It’s pretty impossible to get that much protein only eating three meals a day. You have to add a protein-heavy snack. Each meal needs at least 20 grams of protein, but ideally more. We’re told to get at least 50 grams by lunch. You’re supposed to go 3 to 4 hours between meals / snacks.

If I eat eggs for a meal, I’m already at a protein deficit. Unless I eat six. Eggs. If you sleep in on the weekend, you’re screwed.

It requires a lot of planning and always having more than enough high-protein stuff on hand. It starts to feel like a full-time job working for a boss that’s never satisfied.

A Tuesday, For Example

Hitting the 100 grams is hard, especially on hectic days between meetings and appointments.

Say you drank a canned shake in the car after 10am. You drank your 30 grams and moved on. But by 1:30 it hits you: you’re behind. You haven’t done your workout and you need to eat, first. But the meal can’t also be in the form of powdered protein. You need real food. Your mind spins. Your heart races. You failed. Again. Something so simple. Of course you don’t have the bigger title and salary, you can’t even feed yourself.

It’s a status signal dressed as a health decision. But at what point does it become something else entirely? You probably already know.

Where are you on the protein spiral? Fully manic, casually aware, or completely checked out — I want to know.

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When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

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I had a $1,600 gift card for Neiman Marcus after I sold two Gucci purses to FASHIONPHILE. My plan was to buy a new bag…

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My obsession started with Lindsay Sword’s post about pairing brown and red, in what she dubbed “Khaki + Cherry.” I’ve got the pull-on pants. And the longer length shorts that are everywhere, just waiting in my closet to be worn. I became convinced this is the combo I need to nail.

My brain translated this challenge into a red shoe. But not a flat, closed-toe number that makes my feet feel like they’re suffocating. A sandal that’s cute and walkable, yet minimal. A curious juxtaposition to everything already in my closet. I get regular pedicures and want to show off my piggies because I live in Texas. Which basically feels like an armpit, so you want air anywhere you can get it.

My tenacity is based on a belief. Like maybe if I get the shoe right, the rest of it will look right, too. And then it will look like I’ve got it together. Even when I don’t. Especially when I don’t.

Easy, right? Wrong.

Rag & Bone Gracie Jelly Thong: $178

This was supposed to be the one. The first I ordered and first to arrive. I’m typically a size 9 in US sizes but a 40 in EU. I ordered the 10. It fit, in that it wasn’t too small. But wow this is a horrible shoe. While it’s sorta fun and maybe cute, it’s nothing like the visions in my head. And it hurt like hell. Just putting it on my foot hurt. The jelly was like hard plastic and scraped across the top of my foot.

The nub between your big toe was so painful, and then had something hard wrapped around the strap that made it even larger than normal, uncomfortably stretching the space between my toes. Your bare feet are on the ground with jelly on top. If you’re outside and it’s hot enough, I can imagine this entire shoe melting around your foot.

No.

Tkees: Aqua, $55, and Square Toe Lily, $85

Someone I know saw a pair and thought they were the $4 cheapies you get for summer camp. But Substack has made it very clear that Tkees earned the “flip-flop of the summer” badge.

The Sol Red shade is great, if it were nail polish. Footwear is meant to be protective. These aren’t. I’m certain the heat from the pavement would pass through the shoe and burn the bottom of my foot. Then I’d either step on glass or a nail. Medical attention and a likely ER visit seem inevitable.

No.

Sanuk: Yoga Spree 4, $29.95; Yoga Matt II, $39.95

I’ve worn these in the past, but it’s been years. The last 2 pairs I ordered — yellow and red — both got stolen off my front porch. The schtick is that it’s made from a yoga mat. Who cares? It basically felt like standing on a pile of oatmeal mush, which could move the wrong way and you could risk twisting an ankle. I’ve definitely practiced on firmer mats.

I liked the look of the Yoga Spree 4. Probably because it’s “Khaki + Cherry,” which has likely imprinted on me. Apparently I really wanted this brand to work. I bought 2 different styles, each from a different place. Neither are worth owning.

No.

FitFlop Women’s iQushion, $38

Looking down, it’s the look I’m going for. But from any other angle, the chunky soul offsets the minimalism. I could live with if, it had the fit. I ordered my normal size 9 and it was tiny. It looked like it came from Baby Gap.

But even if I could find the right fit, it just didn’t feel nice. It was just sorta…there. Like its purpose for being wasn’t clear.

No.

Clarks Breeze Sea, $33.70

I don’t love the white chunky bottom because it’s so prominent. The size 9 was too tight, everywhere.

I got the 10 and it’s hardly any bigger. I won’t size up again. This is my only contender in the closet. Unworn, still in the box.

Maybe.

Archies Arch Support, $40

Clearly the Internet gods are onto me, as this pair got presented to me. Not a brand I’m familiar with. Reviews are mixed. Like hot yoga, people either love it or hate it.

I’m already this far, so really, what was one more pair to buy? Unfortunately, they’re not expected to arrive until next week. Which is like forever away. I’m unsure on the Coral color, because that can show in such different ways. But if it feels good on my foot I’m keeping it, color be damned.

Hopeful.

What have you been hunting this season, that should be simple, but isn’t. Share!

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When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

3 Keepers and a Regret is a recurring series on Retail Therapy on Substack where I ask people I admire to name 3 things they’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen — and 1 thing they regret.

I’ve been a bit obsessed with for more than a beat. I listen to podcasts where she’s a guest and have bought her latest book more than once. What I didn't expect: all the ways she's still a New Yorker. Even though she doesn't live there anymore.

You may know Sari from Oldster Magazine. I’m a reader and fan. I love the variety of voices and journeys. How we all eventually get “there.” But I struggle. I can’t even accept that the term “middle age” applies to me. My therapist insists it does.

I first came to know Sari through her Memoir Monday roundup from Memoir Land. It’s my favorite email. I carefully work my way through, savoring each piece slowly throughout the week. I’ve been a subscriber — my first paid Substack, actually — since Jan 2023.

On a whim, I asked Sari to respond to 3 Keepers & a Regret. When she said yes I “eked” out loud. Radio tilted his head in a funny way, so you know it’s not my common noise.

Three Keepers

3 things you’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen

No. 1 — NYC subway token

My NYC subway token, from the 1970-1980 series, which I wear clustered with other charms on a chain around my neck. I left New York City for the Kingston area 21 years ago after my husband and I got kicked out of our under-market loft in the East Village. Yet somehow I still think of my life upstate as "a temporary living arrangement."

In 2013, when I published the first edition of my first NYC essay anthology, Goodbye to All That: Writers on Loving & Leaving NY I bought a bunch of these tokens on eBay, had a jeweler friend drill holes in them so they could be worn as pendants, and sent them to all of my contributors.

I may no longer have a place to live in NYC, but you will have to pry this token — and my permanent status as "a New Yorker" — from my cold, dead hands.

No. 2 — Charlotte Stone’s multi-colored shoes

Charlotte Stone's multi-colored shoes (each shoe in a pair is a different mashup of hues) have been following me around the internet for years. I've wanted them badly, but most of the time they had chunky wooden platform heels, which, thanks to serious arthritis and five compressed disks in my spine, are not good for me in my 60s, and weren't good for me in my 50s, either, when I started seeing them. But recently I saw this low pair of their sandals, with a squishy, comfortable footbed, and even though they were a splurge for me, I had to have them. I was so happy to discover that they are incredibly comfortable. I am going to be wearing these all summer. Get ready to be sick of me in them; I don't care.

If my great aunt Lucille were alive, she'd try to steal them from me, like she did with the shoes I wore for my bat mitzvah.

"These look better on me," she said when I woke that morning and found her prancing around my family's living room in them. "You can wear my shoes."

I made a deal with her: When I outgrew them (they were a size 5 and Aunt Lu was tiny), they were hers.

No. 3 — CK for Calvin Klein denim skirt

The CK for Calvin Klein denim skirt with kick pleat that I bought at a stoop sale in the East Village in the early aughts, that I wear to death all year. This skirt is my best second-hand purchase ever, and I have a million of them. I think I paid $4 for it in maybe 2002? It has always fit me as if it were made for me. I can wear it year-round—bare-legged in the summer, with tights in the winter—and I absolutely do. At 24 years and counting, it doesn't show its wear. And it's a good thing, because I don't know what I'd do if it got too threadbare for me to reasonably wear. It's my most reliable wardrobe staple. I hope I have it (and suspect I will) for the rest of my days.

One Regret

now the regret

My high-ish-heeled No.6 shearling clog boots. This was not the first pair of No.6 shearling clog boots I'd bought barely used on Poshmark. No, this pair I bought after I'd realized I could no longer wear high heels, nor wooden-soled clogs. ((Read Sari’s take on her clog transition.))

I bought them already knowing I couldn’t comfortably wear them, nor the two other pairs I owned, one with a much lower heel, the other with a wedged heel. It was wishful (read: foolish) thinking. I just loved the way they looked so much, and ignored the voice in my head that said, “Really??? Your aching back would like a word.”

I have given away almost all of my wooden-heeled clogs, and for some reason I can’t part with these, even though I don’t wear them. They were a waste of $150 (used—they were like $500 new). And now they’re a waste of my limited closet space.

Why I'm Still Shopping

I fully respect Sari’s ability to commit to her regrets. I have a closetful.

That we can leave somewhere, yet still belong. And why so many of us try to fight our own body to hold onto our identity, no matter the pain.

And then there are those Charlotte Stone shoes. OMG I want 3 pair. I was only going to allow myself to buy one, but it’s sold out in my size. And yes, I already contacted the company, in case.

So I’m learning from Sari and not settling for second best. I’m waiting for the perfect pair.

Thanks to for a fun read. Check out Memoir Land and Oldster.

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

Last week I got a text message from a friend who drives a lot as a home-health nurse.

“I can’t afford the gas in my car so I’m going to buy a hybrid,” she said, asking if I knew anyone who owned a few different models she’s considering. “I don’t want a car payment but it doesn’t make sense to pay for gas with all my driving.”

I wanted to pick up the phone and pull her off the ledge: she was getting ready to make a really bad financial decision based on emotion, not math. She was running math on the price at the gas pump — not the cost of purchasing a new hybrid when you already own your car. That’s the math people aren’t doing before they buy.

The Emotional Trap of a Hybrid

People are making a $40K car decision on a $4 gallon of gas.

In April, a new record was set for the largest number of hybrid cars sold, ever. In May the number continued to climb, jumping 33% vs. last year.

Your brain is telling you a hybrid makes sense. We’re upset that gas prices are eating into our fun money. We’re buying the hybrid in an effort to control something we can’t — the price of gas. The dopamine rush of the buy makes us feel good. But buying a hybrid is just our illusion of being in control. Fixating on the price of a gallon of gas is the math mistake we’re making.

The Car Math Nobody Does

The real calculation is how long it takes you just to break even on a hybrid, before you can even begin to see any savings from not buying gas. The break-even on most hybrid cars is 3 to 6 years. That’s the amount of time it takes for the money you would save on gas to “pay off” the higher cost of the hybrid car.

If you buy a 2026 Toyota Corolla hybrid it costs 5.5% more than the gas-only model: a difference of $1,375. With higher gas prices, it still will take you 3 years to break even on that additional cost vs. the gas-only model, according to Kelly Blue Book.

The numbers are based on driving 15,000 miles/year and saving $459 on gas. It will still take you 36 months to offset the hybrid premium. Longer if gas prices drop. Use their calculator to see for yourself.

For larger vehicles, where the hybrid premium is even larger, the breakeven is between 4 and 6 years. A 2027 Kia Telluride Hybrid -- 6 years, Smart Technology Investments found. A Mazda CX-50 is 8 years.

If Your Car Is Already Paid Off

If your car is already paid off and you’d need to take out a loan at today’s interest rates, it’s even harder to get the numbers to work. Adding a monthly car payment, just to save money on gas, doesn’t make financial sense.

The entire auto industry is shifting. Sales are down 4% through the end of May. Purchases of electric vehicles have dropped. The only Hail Mary in the auto industry right now are hybrid cars. They could end up accounting for at least 20% of all car sales this year. So know the minute you walk onto a lot, they’re waiting for you. And they’re certainly not going to urge you to figure out if you’re making a good financial decision for yourself.

What the Dealer Isn’t Going to Tell You

Just because the industry is betting on hybrids doesn’t mean we have to.

, publisher of the Financial Survival Network, urges buyers to ask the right questions.

“The larger issue is that most consumers are making this decision based solely on today’s gas prices,” he said. “A hybrid increases complexity and can increase repair costs over the life of the vehicle.”

More moving parts and a longer break-even timeline. Financially, it raises the stakes. The dealer isn’t going to mention any of that.

My Wallet Wins. This Time.

I’d love a new car, especially one with a better sound system. When I’m in the Whole Foods parking lot, it’s basically like being at a new car dealership, surrounded by all the latest brands and models. I can easily upsell myself in the time it takes me to return the cart.

But it would be dumb, financially. My car is paid off and has hardly any miles. I have car envy but my wallet wins. Sure, I bought a new $28 Merit lip blush because I can’t find where I put mine. But that’s hardly the financial dent of $48K – the average cost of a new car today.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t buy a hybrid. The point is make sure you’re basing your calculus on the correct numbers.

If you want a new car — own that, say it and buy it. But acknowledge you’re doing it for the new car smell, not because you’ve figured a way to get around the price of gas.

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

3 Keepers and a Regret is a recurring series on Retail Therapy on Substack where I ask people I admire to name 3 things they’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen — and 1 thing they regret.

I’m in awe of how challenges us to re-think our assumptions about money and writing. She’s proof that what we’ve told ourselves isn’t possible — writing full-time, on our own terms — is actually just a decision. I keep my writing as a fun hobby alongside a full-time corporate tech job. Meanwhile Amy’s lived around the world while running the popular Substack writing job board Make Writing Your Job.

She’s a bestselling author — her latest is Write for Money and Power — and the reason I know anything about Substack is Sutoscience, where she’s now dropping a serialized fiction novel in weekly installments.

She’s the kind of person you’d hate if she weren’t so genuinely kind.

Three Keepers

3 things you’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen

No. 1 — 8Sleep mattress

Sleep is so important and having a temperature-controlled mattress is the one splurge that pays off for 8 hours/night! I got this years ago and it's one of my best purchases. The price tag is shocking, but once you consider the payoff of sleeping (way) better than you would on a normal mattress, it's worth it. I also run cold, so I love curling up in bed with a good book in the afternoons and turning up the temperature to +10.

No. 2 — Branch Duo standing desk

I love my standing desk, and the wood is so nice on the Branch desks. They also have some cool attachments like cord organizers, and as something I use daily it was important to get a desk I love writing at each day!

No. 3 — Stainless-steel Vitamix blender

Blending things in plastic is bad if you’re trying to avoid microplastics, and I use my stainless steel Vitamix blender every day for smoothies. Stainless steel is also better if you’re blending things like hot soup ingredients (i.e. for a puree) and it’s really easy to clean!

One Regret

now the regret

I don’t really have buying regrets as a minimalist! Anything I don’t love I end up offloading at Goodwill, but so far I’ve had a good track record of purchases that I’ve loved and kept.

Why I'm Still Shopping

Amy is a minimalist. She doesn’t accumulate regret because she doesn’t accumulate stuff. I tried. I even listened to The Minimalists podcast for a brief stint. But those dudes stressed me out. I was hoping to take little nuggets of lessons that I could apply to my life. You know, ways to have…less. But when they started talking about how they all dress the same, and why they only wear black, I couldn’t do it. Just thinking about it again makes my breathing get way too shallow.

I’m not a minimalist. But I’m apparently open to being influenced by one. I took her Vitamix recommendation. I had just done what I thought was impossible: I broke my machine-grade Vitamix. So much for being indestructible — I don’t even cook.

Amy’s response made me send back the replacement plastic container I’d already received. The stainless-steel is on the way. In case.

Thanks to — subscribe to Make Writing Your Job and Sutoscience. You may not become a minimalist, but you’ll learn lots.

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

There’s a bakery near me that has delicious little cookies: 3 for $1. My mom loves them, so for her birthday, Radio and I paid her a visit at work with a boxful. I wore cute pants and a brand new white tee, pristine, tags just removed. Seeing her requires the full works – makeup, jewelry, all of it. It’s less hassle than if I don’t.

Parked, with an excited Radio by my side, I went for the cookies and somehow knocked over the iced coffee in the center console. It spilled on the box and splashed on my new shirt. But luckily at the bottom part, which I could tuck in. Faye appreciated her puppy kisses from Radio telling everyone it’s her grandchild. Seeing the coffee splashes across the white box, she laughed.

“I’d expect nothing less,” she said.

But it makes for a real struggle when the perfect white tee is supposed to be the foundation of every wardrobe, or so I’ve been told. It’s a staple and an investment piece. And the shopping gods decided $74 is the going rate for the white tee, and we’re told we need three.

That means dropping $370 on white tees, keeping in mind the $74 tee is just mid-level. The Great, AGOLDE or FLORE FLORE take you up to $100. Reformation, COS and Buck Mason drop you to $50.

It’s how I ended up with 7 in my closet: 3 sleeveless and 4 short-sleeves. Two still wear their price tags.

But none are the “it” brands. And while clearly my closet doesn’t need another white t-shirt, apparently my psyche does.

Because every time I see yet another white tee I don’t own, I send myself on a goose chase. Fearful I don’t have the “right” ones because they’re not from Leset, Perfectwhitetee or Goldie.

The only mental calculus a white tee used to require was at a concert merch table. Now the lifestyle these brands are selling require a consultation with your financial planner, first. Unless you’re making at least $500K a year. Only 1% of US households make that kind of money.

If you decide you can afford it, you have to get past the principle of it: $74 seems like an insane amount of money for a tee shirt. That could be an amazing sushi lunch, instead.

The white tee isn’t the problem — it’s the canary. The real question is who decided $74 is normal and why nobody is doing the math.

Yet every time another influencer shares “the” t-shirt your closet is missing, I start the doom scroll obsession. Reading about it, dissecting it, querying why everyone loves it. I know the white tee is a symbol – mine at least – of trying to fill an endless hole. But it doesn’t stop me from trying.

I know everything I’ve already spent is a sunk cost. If I were starting from zero, one or two of the good brands would’ve cost me less than this collection. But the hanging shirts haunt me.

How did we get here? Not to date myself, but I remember when a white t-shirt used to be ubiquitous and easy.

When I discuss it with my partner, who does the laundry and battles my stains, his response is the same: “Don’t spend a lot of money on white. You’ll ruin it.”

I know myself. I’ll buy the white tees.

And I still end up with my same problem: I spill and all white tees stain easily. It’s why I have a separate pile of white tees in the coat closet. With stains. Because my wardrobe staples will eventually become my happy place, when I tie dye them all.

Tell me which white tee you bought, kept, and would actually buy again. Brand, price & why it survived.

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When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

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3 Keepers and a Regret is a recurring series on Retail Therapy on Substack where I ask people I admire to name 3 things they’d fight to keep — bought, inherited, stolen — and 1 thing they regret.

When I was planning a 3-country work trip I was excited. Until my boss told me I couldn’t check a bag. My fear of what I couldn’t take started talking, and I tried to back-out, unsuccessfully. Then I came across from Fashion Soup. She’s one of the only style writers I’ve found who doesn’t pretend price doesn’t matter — her perfect white tee is $14.90 from Uniqlo.

Lindsay packed for a 10-day trip work trip with only a carry-on. She knows her style, picks her looks in advance and packs accordingly. All of which for me is a real struggle. On the plane she wore pull-on pants. I now own three pair.

Here’s Lindsay, who had it figured out days in advance while I’m still packing on the way to the airport.

Three Keepers

No. 1 — Dad’s sweatshirt

This sweatshirt is my most prized piece. It was my dad’s from business school, and is fifty years old. There are holes everywhere, and while I used to wear it all the time, now I’m nervous that it will completely disintegrate, so it lives mainly in my drawer. A grey raglan sweatshirt is probably my #1 style. I think it goes with absolutely everything.

No. 2 — Dries Van Noten blazer

I am a Blazer Person through and through. I found this Dries Van Noten peak lapel chocolate brown blazer on sale a few years ago, and it is a magical garment: I always feel good when I wear it. I decided to make this my first day outfit at my new job last year — 12 years after my last first day at a new job.

It makes me feel confident and polished, which was exactly how I needed to feel.

No. 3 — Brooks Brothers boys button-down shirt

I bought this Brooks Brothers boys button-down shirt last year in the spring drop of our Vintage Shop. It’s from the 1960s(!), and I love the soft green color and ivory stripes. The quality, no surprise, is amazing and all the century-old hallmarks of a Brooks Brother’s button-down are there: oxford cloth, button-down collar, and 6-pleat shirring at the barrel cuff.

It reminds me of the history of fashion and the through-line to today.

One Regret

This is such an interesting question, and as I reflect on it, I realized I don’t really regret any of my purchases! Everything I’ve bought has helped me get one step closer to identifying my style and what’s feels right in my closet. I shop both by instinct and intention, and each process has a place in my personal style.

I suppose I’ve regretted a few dress purchases, just because I never seem to want to wear a dress when I could wear a cool jacket and pants!

Why I’m Still Shopping

Lindsay doesn't really regret her dress purchases, and I believe her. She shopped her way to knowing herself. I want to become comfortable enough in my own skin that I see my patterns and know what to avoid. Including the items in my closet still wearing their price tags.

So many of us are still discovering. We’re buying for the version of ourselves we think we should be. And until we accept who we are, we’ll keep shopping for the stuff that stays in the closet.

Thanks to — subscribe to Fashion Soup to learn why the challenge of jean shorts is real.

When life stops making sense, we shop. More soon.

Rani Monson

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