A short while ago, I enjoyed a rare treat: a socially distanced, masked get-together with a friend (and physician colleague) on the deck of my home.
He has been a friend for years, someone I relish geeking out over personal finance with, yet I realized with awkwardness that this was the first time he was coming over to my house. I gave that some thought, and realized that subconsciously, a part of me might have feared his discovery that I live in a (gasp!) doctor home.
When we purchased our home a decade ago, it was well before my journey to becoming a DIY investor and pursuing financial independence had commenced. It was fortuitous timing, near the nadir of home prices in our area.
I approached the purchase with a sense of relief. We had certain ideas about what we sought in a house, but as a young attending starting a new family, all that excitement was overshadowed by this enormous debt we'd be assuming. The relief was in finally putting a precise number on our debt; once I knew how deep a hole I was in, I could work on getting myself out of it.
I live in an expensive neighborhood in southern California, a luxury based on the cost of entry (although certain perks, like a desirable public school system, offset this cost to some degree). Where I live is weirdly incongruous with the other aspects of my life, and I felt a little embarrassed by whether it might strike my friend as excessively luxurious.
My friend was all kindness, and there was no judgment. It seemed to be more in my head than anywhere else, but it got me to thinking - why, since having my financial rebirth, do I seem to derive pleasure out of proportion from a frugal lifestyle that many would argue is not just unnecessary but a little extreme?
I gave myself a couple of minutes to compose a list of aspects of my life that I enjoy living at low cost:
- Cars: Used Kias.
- Clothing and shoes: Purchased from thrift stores and vintage clothing stores.
- Cycling: my bike was a gift from a friend, and my cycling apparel lately includes a fanny pack to hold my cell phone. (My other superpower? Not caring how dorky I look.)
- My bodyboard, wetsuit, fins and booties/fin socks were bought used at steep discount. When my gear needs replacing, I text a guy who goes by "Surf Rat" and he drives an ancient VW van full of used beach gear to let me pick up a replacement at a reasonable price.
- Haircuts: Why drop a twenty at Fantastic Sam's when there's never a wait at Dreadful Doc's? (I do 'em myself.)
- Food: Homemade meals 98% of the time.
Some of this approach derives from a bit of self-knowledge. I don't mind nice stuff provided it's purchased under circumstances I don't need to stress about. That $300 gore-tex jacket I bought for $10 at a thrift store? I gifted it to a friend who loved it. Those $200 Ecco loafers in almost new condition ? I don't worry when they get scuffed, because I paid $20 for the pair from a thrift store.
I'd make a terrible Tesla owner, because worrying about where I parked it and whether it might get scratched would rapidly eclipse the pleasures it might otherwise provide.
Another aspect of this approach is that I prefer to enter contests I have a shot at winning, a sort of distant analogue to Buffett's preference to enter businesses with an economic moat.
This is different than avoiding new challenges or areas of expertise simply because I don't have an established aptitude - I'm a big fan of remaining open to new experiences, and of cultivating a growth mindset.
That said, if you're going to derive your identity from a particular self-image, it doesn't hurt to choose one compatible with the accumulation of wealth. So by saving relentlessly on recurring expenses, and priding myself in the ways that I save, I'm reinforcing behavior that results in a positive financial outlook for my future.
Most friends have nicer cars than I drive. Few drive a bigger beater. While some might perceive this comparison as a form of inadequacy, it's a fact I've taught myself to cherish.
Another friend donates his family's old clothes to the same place where I shop for mine. I think that's awesome for both of us, since his people are snazzy dressers.
Can I redeem this meandering exercise by finding a take home point or two in this mental jumbalaya?
- You are human, and therefore, inconsistency is not just allowable but expected.
- Your financial future is an art work in progress. It's okay to have lots of spilled paint, erased outlines, and incongruent shapes on the same canvas. That's the byproduct of starting out loving Picasso, going through an impressionist phase, and then maturing into a style that has more in common with Kehinda Wiley. The accumulated detritus of your life will reflect your evolution.
- You have a choice in creating the instrument by which you will decide how you measure up. In my case, a dirtbag predisposition combined with an unusual ability to feel comfortable in my skin led me to seek the accumulation of anti-status symbols, because it's an area I can dominate.
What areas do you dominate that enable you to build wealth?