One day at work two years ago, an notification hit on my mobile device: my paycheck had been deposited. It was a fair amount for a someone still at university, so I did my what I always did payday ritual: I opened every retail application on my device. From Amazon to Zara, the list was endless. In under 60 minutes, I had parted with £90 on clothes, home decor and a completely unused weighted blanket that never touched.
A few days later, I returned to the internet and purchased a blow dryer. I already owned one, but thought another wouldn't be a problem. Then I added LED strip lights and two shoes that didn't even fit me. This wasn’t new behaviour. In reality, I’d been infamous for it ever since I could afford to buy my own things.
Whenever I felt stressed, exhausted or bored, I would mindlessly scroll until it always culminated in an impulsive shopping spree. My justification was constantly: “It's only £5.” But £5 became £10, then £20, and continued.
I was never entirely sure about the reason. Maybe it was because my upbringing in a poor family, where we’d experience months without buying new clothes or anything to decorate the home. So any time I had extra money, there was always a hidden desire for new and thrilling things. Or possibly, and definitely more likely, I was just bad with money and succumbed easily to capitalism’s consumerism.
Eventually, I opted to experiment with a novel idea. Prior to buying anything, I’d put it in my basket, delay for 24 hours, then make a choice on whether to check out. The best part of this method was that it provided me time to think – something I’d never done before. For the first time since adulthood, I began questioning: “Do I actually require this? Can I afford it?” More often than not, the response was no.
If I opened Amazon, Depop or Zara and discovered items sitting in my basket, I’d remove them and begin anew. By employing this method, I ceased acquiring things that I knew deep down I would never utilize. I once considered buy three board games, but after a waiting period before visiting the shop, I understood I never actually play board games.
I also wanted to buy a disposable film camera for my first holiday to the coast. After pausing I remembered I possessed a phone, similar to most people, that has a perfectly adequate lens, and therefore had no requirement to buy a separate device.
It additionally means I am more discerning about the items I do buy, and I can at last look at my financial records devoid of experiencing guilt or discomfort.
Naturally, there have been times I’ve relapsed into old habits – it’s only natural. The key change is that I can identify the warning signs early, especially when I’m hastening into a purchase. I’ve realised ennui is a powerful catalyst. It’s probably the biggest driver of my impulsive expenditure.
Consumer culture preys on this idleness and our desire for immediate satisfaction. That’s the reason, looking back, compelling myself to pause before buying has felt strangely liberating. To be able to have control over my urges and reaffirming that I don’t need to spend my diligently earned money on non-essential products feels as revolutionary as it is simple.
A passionate writer and traveler sharing insights on personal growth and lifestyle from a UK perspective.
