The Depreciation of Us

Summary

Garrett lived by a single, unyielding doctrine: nothing in our home was ever bought new.

"Retail is just vanity disguised as convenience," he would tell me, his voice carrying that calm, measured authority that made any counterargument sound frivolous. "If a marriage is going to last, you don't bleed capital on instant depreciation."

So, for five years, my life was curated from the discarded remnants of strangers. My designer totes came from Poshmark, my wool coats were hunted down in vintage consignment shops, and even my wedding band was an estate piece—scratched yellow gold picked up…