Pay Dirt is Slate’s money advice column. Have a question? Send it to Kristin and Ilyce here. (It’s anonymous!)
Dear Pay Dirt,
My husband and I have totally shared finances. He has expensive taste in clothes, in my opinion. On average, he spends $200 on a pair of pants, $100 on a shirt, $200 on a jacket. I know some people spend much more than that, but to me, it’s a lot. I usually buy my clothes either used or on sale from high street stores, and my average is more like $30 for pants, $20 for a shirt, and under $50 for a jacket. Those have probably been my numbers for years and years. This is how we spent before we got married, and it’s carried on throughout our marriage. But I’m starting to feel resentful that his clothes are so much nicer than mine. Or maybe what I’m actually mad about is that he has never tried to convince me to try more expensive clothes. I am genuinely happy for him when he buys things he likes. I don’t think he feels the same about my clothes (I know I don’t). How can I tell my husband I’d like to try more expensive clothes? I’m scared of coming off as greedy, which I guess is how I kind of feel.
—Clothes Wife
Dear Clothes Wife,
You’re not greedy—you’re just finally noticing an imbalance you actually created. And here’s the good news: You can fix it today.
Stop waiting for your husband to give you permission or encourage you to spend more. He’s probably not withholding approval—he’s likely being a supportive husband by not pressuring you to change how you shop or look. You’ve been happily buying $20 shirts for years. Why would he assume you suddenly want something different unless you tell him?
The real issue isn’t him—it’s that you need permission from yourself. You have shared finances. If he can spend $200 on pants without guilt, so can you. Period.
Here’s what to do: Go shopping this weekend and buy one nicer item. Don’t start with a $1,000 purse—start with a $150 pair of pants or a dress that’s three or four times what you’d normally spend. Wear it. Do you get compliments? Do you like how you look in the mirror? Does it hold up better than your usual purchases? Pay attention to how it makes you feel.If the answer is yes, buy more. If it turns out you genuinely prefer your thrift store finds and sale racks, that’s fine too—but at least you’ll know it’s a choice, not self-denial.
Stop framing nicer clothes as some forbidden luxury you need to justify. This is joint money. Presumably, you’ve both earned it. Your husband spends $500 per outfit without asking permission. You can spend $150 on pants without a guilt spiral.
The conversation with your husband isn’t “Can I spend more?” It’s “I’m going to start investing more in my wardrobe.” Watch—I bet he says, “Great, you should.”
Dear Pay Dirt,
When I was in my 20s, I was careless with credit cards and allowed them to take over my life. Just paying the minimums took most of my money, rent took the rest, and everything else went on a card. It was a terrible situation that made me terribly depressed when I actually thought about it, but most of the time, I didn’t think about it. I just kept swiping.
And then I had an incredible stroke of luck: My mom received an unexpected inheritance, and she decided that she wanted to use part of it to pay off my credit card debt. I appreciated then what a generous gift this was. I still appreciate it now. My promise to her, and to myself, was that I would never use a credit card again.
It’s been 10 years, and I’ve stuck to that promise. I also now understand that I am neurodivergent (I got an ADHD diagnosis), which gives me a better understanding of why I was able to ignore the credit debt so easily—“out of sight, out of mind” really is pretty much how my brain works.
Now I use multiple direct deposits to separate accounts and automatic payments to ensure that the money I have access to with my debit card is all I can spend. It means I run out of spending money a lot, until the next payday, but my bills all get paid so it’s never dire.
I have a few friends who know about my history with credit cards, and when I say that I can’t go out until payday, they’ll say that they’ll cover my tab and I can pay them back when I get paid next. I’m wondering if what you think about this. I never “borrow” more than I can cover, and I always pay them back when I say I will. But I wonder if you think I should be stricter with myself and not rely on my friends like this. Am I using them as my credit cards? My mom died a few years ago and I can’t talk to her about it.
—In Debt to My Friends
Dear In Debt to My Friends,
You’re asking the right questions, which shows excellent self-awareness. No, you’re not using your friends as credit cards—but you’re skating close to the edge, and you know it.
Here’s the difference: Credit cards let you spend money you don’t have with no social cost and vague future consequences. Your neurodivergent brain could ignore it completely. Borrowing from friends has built-in friction—there’s embarrassment, social accountability, and relationship risk. That friction is actually protecting you. You’re not spiraling because the natural limits keep you in check.
But here’s the problem: If you’re regularly running out of money before payday, your budget is broken. The fact that you “never borrow more than you can cover” and “always pay back” is good, but frequently needing to borrow at all means you’re living right up to the edge of your means—and sometimes past it. If you haven’t put together the dots yet, this is what living paycheck-to-paycheck looks like.
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Your automated system is smart for managing your neurodivergence, but it needs an adjustment: Build in a small buffer. Even $100 to $200 in your spending account as a cushion would prevent you from needing to borrow for normal social activities. If you can’t create that buffer, your automatic allocations are too aggressive. Dial back your savings by $50/month if you need to—having a tiny emergency fund is better than regularly borrowing from friends.
Your friends are being generous, but relying on their generosity as a regular financial or social strategy isn’t sustainable. Eventually, someone will feel taken advantage of, or won’t be able to cover you, or you’ll feel too embarrassed to ask. You’ve built a fragile system that won’t stand the slightest bump in the road.
Your mom would be proud that you’ve stayed away from credit cards for a decade. Honor her gift by taking the next step: Don’t just avoid debt. Build up an emergency fund with enough margin that you don’t need to borrow at all. You’ve proven you can keep promises. Make yourself one more.
—Ilyce
More Money Advice From Slate
I grew up in a unique financial situation. My parents divorced when I was young, and I mostly lived with my mom, with occasional weekends at my dad’s house. My mom has a lot of health problems, and as a result we were pretty broke a lot of the time, and my basic needs were often unmet. On the other hand, my dad’s family is extremely wealthy. I got used to watching my cousins enjoy expensive clothes, gadgets, and vacations, and as we’ve gotten older, most of them have also been gifted cars, down payments on their homes, and so on. I tried my best not to be bitter about it and comforted myself that my grandparents had always promised to pay my university fees. My dad also made vague promises that I’d “never have to worry about money” while I was in school (or ever). I’m in my early 20s now, with one year left of my professional degree, and I never really experienced the level of financial support I’d been promised.