The art of living cheaply
Mass. College of Art senior bargains, cooks, walks his way through school
Brendan Dillon has subsisted for weeks on nothing but spoonfuls of chunky peanut butter and packages of ramen noodles.
As a senior at the Massachusetts College of Art, Dillon walks 28 miles a week to classes and work to avoid what he calls "the unreliable and overpriced subway."
Whether scouring for free movies at the Wang Center or 50-cent boxes of mac-n-cheese at the supermarket, Dillon is a scrupulous scrimper.
As higher education costs have soared, Dillon is one of a growing number of college students who embrace cheapness like it's a sport.
Over the last decade, the average cost for tuition, fees, and room and board at public four-year colleges increased 36 percent, from $7,813 to $10,636. At the same time, the College Board reported that the total charges, in constant dollars, rose 35 percent at private colleges, from $19,866 to $26,854.
Particularly in pricey cities like Boston, students are making lifestyle changes they might not have considered five or 10 years ago, said Jane Horton, director of the Higher Education Information Center in Boston.
Dillon lives by the motto: "Why pay a lot if you don't have to?"
The 25-year-old Plymouth native spends $370 a month for an oversized closet in Boston -- a 64-square-foot room with barely enough space for his futon, plastic crates, and recycled art supplies.
Dillon, who does get to use the kitchen and living area, lives with a childhood buddy, Nils Erickson, in a condominium that Erickson's parents bought when their son began college.
Historically low interest rates have made condo-buying a popular move for some college students' parents, who see it as an alternative to overpriced, cramped dorms or shabby apartments.
For Dillon, one semester of dorm living would cost about 12 months' rent at his Jamaicaway pad.
Dillon became a cheapskate in college out of necessity. When he entered his freshman year, his two younger siblings were nearing college age, his mother was in nursing school, and his father was driving trucks to support the family.
He spent his first year at Montserrat College of Art in Beverly, a private school where annual tuition cost about $17,000 at the time. He was barely getting by, even though he lived with his grandmother the first few months and worked 40 hours a week as a certified nurse's aide.
The second semester, Dillon received a loan to live on campus, but decided at the end of classes that the private school just was not worth the financial struggle.
So he took a year off and applied to study architecture at Massachusetts College of Art -- the only publicly funded free- standing school of visual arts in the country.
Even with federal loans to cover most of the $5,600 annual tuition, Dillon said he will still owe more than $25,000 after he graduates this spring.
Sitting in his living room furnished exclusively with hand-me-downs, Dillon said he arranges classes so he can hold a 24-hour-a-week job at a landscape architecture firm in Boston.
He is the norm for college students today; about half of students at four-year schools work an average of 26 hours a week, according to the most recent data from the National Center of Education Statistics.
Compare that with 1993, when one-quarter of students worked at least 20 hours per week.
Monday to Thursday, the young man with the buzz cut and trimmed beard walks 3 miles each way to and from work in $35 sneakers he bought at a factory outlet store.
For meals, he avoids the pricey cafeteria at school and curbs his restaurant outings.
He cooks dinners at home and usually brings sandwiches for lunch.
His parents bought him a pasta maker for Christmas last year and now he can make oodles of pasta for just pennies. "Food is the biggest expense and the easiest to get out of control," Dillon said.
He learned that the hard way. During his freshman year, almost every time he got a paycheck, Dillon gorged at
Now a wiser upperclassman, he keeps his food bills in check with one exception. He can't kick his craving for Thin Mints Girl Scout cookies.
He sheepishly ducked his head when he admitted that he has spent more than $400 on Thin Mints over the past three years. He noted, however, that his purchase once helped a scout win the annual contest for selling the most cookies.
Dillon further honed his art of living cheaply after some other costly mishaps.
Four years ago, he accidentally lost a rented movie, "A Midsummer Night's Dream," and the video store forced him to fork over a $100 replacement fee.
Dillon hasn't rented a video since.
Instead, he buys used and discounted movies via the Internet. Four shelves of videos line his living room and provide Dillon his most steady form of entertainment.
He's too cheap to buy cable.
As a dedicated but under-funded Red Sox fan, he listens to games on the radio.
Dillon uses the Internet for other savings, too.
He proudly showed off an out-of-print book he bought on
Negotiating is key for cheapskates. Dillon shaved $150 off a 26-inch television set because it was a floor model.
When he was looking for a laptop, Dillon cut a deal with his friend who planned to upgrade his computer. Dillon gave him $100 more than what Dell was offering, and scored a $1,500 laptop for $600 -- and it's still under warranty.
After Dillon graduates this spring, he wants to take a year off and then go to graduate school for architecture.
It will probably mean more loans, but he said he refuses to be "that starving artist who draws people's portraits in the park."
Dillon said he will get a full-time job next year, though he has no plans to give up his cheap habits. Except maybe one. He might eat less macaroni and cheese.
The Thin Mints will stay.
Jenn Abelson can be reached at abelson@globe.com. 