My Pre-Season Shopping Diary: Building the Perfect Spreadsheet Before Everyone Else

Here's what nobody tells you about pre-season shopping: the waiting is psychological torture. I ordered a heavyweight hoodie in July that won't arrive until August, and I won wear it until October. That's three months of wondering if I made the right choice, if the sizing will work, if the color will match my existing wardrobe.

Sometimes I wake up panicking. What if oversized hoodies aren't trendy anymore by fall? What if I lose weight and the sizing is? What if that specific shade of brownd looks terrible with everything I own?

But then I remember: I'm saving 30-40% compared to peak season prices. That's worth some anxiety.

Items I'm Actually Tracking Right Now

My current spreadsheet for autumn/:

• Two heavyweight hoodies in neutral colors—these are my foundation pieces
• One wool blend overcoat that I've been stalking for six weeks
• Three pairs of corduroy pants because I'm apparently having a corA quilted liner jacket that works under coats or alone
• Two chunky knit sweaters, one cream and one forest green
• Thermal base layers that I know I'll need but aren't exciting to buy
• One 'statement' piece—currentlypa-lined denim jacket that might be a mistake

The total comes to around ¥2,400 if I buy everything. Realistically, I'll spend ¥1,800-2,000 after cutting items and catching sales.

The Strategy Behind My Madness

I've learned to shop in waves, not all at once. First wave happens now, in peak summer, when fall items first appear. Prices are moderate, selection is full, but there's no urgency. Second wave hits late August when sellers start pushing inventory harder. Third wave is early September—risky because popular sizes sell out, but prices can drop dramatically on remaining stock.

I put high-priority basics in wave one. The hoodie and base layers? Bought already. The overcoat and statement pieces? Waiting for wave two or three. If I miss them, I'll survive. If I catch them at 40% off, I'll feel brilliant.

Mistakes I've Made (And You Might Too)

Last year I bought a puffer jacket in July for the following winter. Great price, looked perfect in photos. It arrived in August and I immediately knew it was wrong—too shiny, too puffy, not my style at all. But I'd committed. I wore it three times out of obligation before admitting defeat.

The lesson: pre-season shopping requires honest self-knowledge. You're buying for a future version of yourself, and that person needs to align with who you actually are, not who you imagine you'll become. I'm not suddenly going to develop a streetwear aesthetic just because I bought a technical puffer at a good price.

Another mistake: over-optimizing for price. I once waited too long on a perfect wool sweater, hoping for another price drop. It sold out in my size. I saved ¥50 in theory but spent ¥150 more buying a inferior replacement in September. Sometimes good enough pricing is better than perfect pricing.

The Weird Intimacy of Planning Ahead

There's something oddly intimate about planning your wardrobe months in advance. I'm sitting here in shorts and a t-shirt, sweating in summer heat, imagining myself in October. What will I be doing? Where will I be going? What will I need to feel comfortable and confident?

It's like writing a letter to future me. 'Hey, October version—I got you this forest green sweater because I know you'll want something cozy but not boring. I know you'll be tired of navy and gray by then. Trust me on this one.'

Sometimes future me is grateful. Sometimes future me wonders what past me was thinking.

Is This Actually Worth It?

Honest answer: depends on your personality. If you're spontaneous, hate planning, or your style changes frequently, pre-season shopping will frustrate you. You'll end up with items that don't fit your current mood.

But if you're a planner, if you know your style pretty well, if you get satisfaction from optimization and preparation—then yes, absolutely worth it. I've saved roughly ¥3,000 over the past year using this approach. That's real money that went toward other things.

More than savings though, I love the calm it brings. When September hits and everyone's scrambling for fall wardrobes, I'm done. My spreadsheet is closed. My orders arrived weeks ago. I'm just wearing clothes, not shopping for them.

My Current Dilemma

That charcoal overcoat is still haunting me. ¥380 is genuinely good. The style is classic enough to last years. But three coats? Is that excessive?

I've worn my navy coat maybe 15 times last winter. The camel one, maybe 10 times. A third coat might get 5 wears, making the cost-per-wear actually terrible despite the good price.

But what if the navy one wears out? What if I get bored of camel? What if charcoal becomes my signature neutral?

This is the internal dialogue that fills my notes column. This is why my partner thinks I'm slightly unhinged.

I probably won't buy the coat. But I'll keep it in the spreadsheet, just in case. That's the beautiful thing about early planning—you have time to think, to wait, to change your mind. No urgency, no pressure, just patient consideration.

It's 2:47 AM now. I should sleep. But first, let me just check if any prices have updated...