Frugality is a word that can stir up strong feelings. For some, it conjures images of thrift and careful planning, of quiet pride in making things last. For others, it can sound like a kind of smallness, a fear of spending, a life lived in shades of grey. As with many things, the truth lies somewhere in between. 

For those of us now in our sixties, frugality is often woven into the fabric of our lives. Many grew up in households where nothing was wasted, where saving was a virtue, and where the idea of “making do” was less about restriction and more about creativity. Even for those who have found some financial stability in later life, those early lessons can linger, in the way we keep jam jars, mend clothes, or hesitate before buying something new. 

There is much to admire in frugality. It can be a form of wisdom, a way of resisting the pressure to spend simply because we can. In a culture that often measures success in material terms, choosing to live modestly can feel quietly radical. It makes space for values that run deeper than possessions, time, relationships, health, curiosity. Frugality can help reduce financial anxiety, allowing us to feel secure and self-reliant. It can also foster creativity, as we learn to repurpose, repair, and reimagine what we already have. 

But frugality has its shadows too. It can, if taken too far, become a kind of constraint, not just on spending, but on living. Some people find that habits of scrimping become so ingrained they struggle to enjoy the freedom they have worked hard to earn. A life spent watching every penny can become one where opportunities are missed, pleasures postponed, generosity held back. Frugality, once a strength, can harden into reluctance, even fear. 

There is also a risk that frugality becomes inward-facing. The desire to economise can sometimes close us off from community, from sharing, from spontaneity. We might skip a gathering because it involves a meal out, or pass up an invitation to travel because of the cost, even if we could afford it. Of course, every choice has a price, but not all prices are financial. 

What matters, in the end, is balance. Frugality is not about denial for its own sake. It is about alignment, living within our means while also making space for joy, connection, and meaning. It is about knowing when to save and when to spend, when to preserve and when to let go. 

There is no universal answer. For some, being frugal brings peace of mind and a sense of control. For others, it can feel like a burden that has outlived its purpose. The key is not to judge the instinct, but to examine it gently. Are we choosing frugality, or are we stuck in it? Are we honouring our values, or avoiding risk? Are we saving for something, or simply saving from habit? 

At this stage of life, we have earned the right to ask these questions, not in a spirit of criticism, but of curiosity. We have, many of us, lived through lean years and learned how to stretch what we had. That knowledge is valuable. But so is the reminder that life is not only about what we preserve, but what we embrace. 

Frugality can be a gift. But so can freedom. The art lies in knowing when to hold back, and when to let yourself say yes.