De Gustibus Non Est Disputandum: How Financial Rock Bottom Saved My Fits

At the start of the year, I hit financial (and general) rock bottom. Worse still, I hit rock bottom in a pair of horrendous, horrendous jeans. This is the story of how going broke changed my fashion for the better – and how it aligns with the work of Nobel Prize-winning economist Gary Becker in his paper De Gustibus Non Est Disputandum (1977).

“De gustibus non est disputandum” is Latin for “there’s no arguing about taste” - the idea that preferences are innate and largely stable. Becker, like I, challenges this assumption, arguing that instead of attributing behavioural change to exogenous shifts in taste, we can often explain it through changing economic conditions and rational utility-maximising behaviour. For my non-economics homies, this basically means that economic research has found your choice of clothes and style adapts to how broke you are, or how broke the economy is, rather than simply being about what you ‘like.’

You may think going broke meant I could only procure Kmart clothes or the likes, but I digress; being economically forced to stop buying from fast fashion conglomerates - where a simple combination of jeans and a top sets you back $200 for a basic-ass outfit - was revolutionary. Rather than abandoning fashion, I adapted. And in doing so, I began to truly understand what Becker meant in this paper. As a consequence, I fell back in love with thrifting - something I was hesitant to do, as it felt like something I would have done in London on my mere $8 per hour paycheck from Footlocker – and, nonetheless, something more commonplace in the UK than in WA. It felt like a regression to my younger, broker self. And it was actually exactly what I needed.

My economic shortfalls led me to find something better with my $200: Coach bags, Chanel sunnies, Evisu jeans. And beyond brands, I was forced to get more creative on my budget, opening my eyes to things I would have previously discarded or deemed ugly. Being a broke bitch woke me up from a three-year-long fashion coma, and I am glad I will never pay $200 for a pair of horrendous, horrendous jeans again.

Becker’s model suggests that individuals don’t need to change their preferences to behave differently - they adapt to new constraints using the same underlying utility function. In my case, my love for style and individuality became more authrntic - I realised I loved clothes, but not fashion. Not really. I liked the dopamine of buying something new and swiping my card. But I didn't love and honour the art of fashion and styling, something that goes beyond thinking a top is 'nice', and requires patience that I learned in the thrift - so here’s how the theory translated into my lived reality:

Shadow Prices Changed
In economics, the shadow price is the true cost of something once you factor in time, effort, and opportunity cost. While mall clothes had fixed price tags, they became more “expensive” to me due to the returns, poor quality, and styling limitations. Conversely, thrifted pieces, while requiring more time, yielded more value/swag per dollar and more joy per wear. There is more reward in encountering a beautiful, archive piece – time-consuming though it may be – that is made to endure and no one else owns, rather than paying an excessive markup for mall clothes that fall apart in the wash for the sake of instant gratification.

I Built Consumption Capital
Becker introduces the concept of “consumption capital,” which includes the skills and experience developed over time. As I got better at thrifting - understanding fit, cut, brand, and potential, I became more efficient. 

Habit Formation, Not Taste Change
Many economists would interpret repeated behaviour as preference. But Becker insists on distinguishing between stable preferences and learned habits. Thrifting became habitual not because I suddenly preferred it to retail, but because it allowed me to maximise utility within new constraints.

Thrifting forced me to approach fashion from a place of creativity, resourcefulness and insight. I started to see potential in pieces I’d previously overlooked. I gravitated towards vintage bags, old sunglasses, strange blouses, and bizarre silhouettes with personality. Over time, I noticed something unexpected: my swag had not only survived – it had grown exponentially.

I no longer dressed to blend in - as cringe as that sounds. I dressed to make myself happy knowing there was thought, vision and history behind what I was wearing (and not to say if you don't thrift that this isn't true for you - this is just my experience and I'm sure you're still dope.) Vivienne Westwood famously said, “Buy less, choose well, make it last.” I once feared that dressing differently would make me stand out for the wrong reasons in Perth, and make me look like I was “fresh off the boat.” But through financial rock bottom, I found a way to honour my love for fashion while operating within my means. And in the process, I learned that I had been loving fashion in a transactional way, rather than in a creative and authentic way - being swag for me now has little to do with money, and everything to do with my intention. 

Becker’s model might reduce choices in fashion to utility functions, prices, and constraints, but it also gives us something hopeful: the idea that we can still become who we are, even under pressure.

So yes, me and Becker believe your fashion sense is shaped by economic conditions. But I also believe your your taste/swag - comes from somewhere deeper. If you’re broke and wearing horrendous, horrendous jeans, you’re not lost – you just need to come to the thrift with me, twin.

Peace, love, and swag guys –

Alex Prieto, Founder of ¡MIJA!