What do I really, really want?
I recently participated in an online challenge called the #75HardStyleChallenge, started by Mandy Lee, a fashion writer and analyst. The intentions of the challenge were to dress from your closet for 75 days, documenting each outfit, hopefully gaining confidence in how you dressed as you went along.
I am someone who gets an adrenaline rush whenever an online order is confirmed. The mailman gets his steps in with all of the packages arriving at my front door. But I was intrigued by the challenge of not buying clothes for 75 days. Of not participating in consumption. So while I did not document every outfit during those 75 days, I still used the challenge to achieve my goal of consuming less.
I have heard that a habit is formed in 21 days. Within a week, I was excited to put together an outfit. I suddenly remembered I had a lot of clothes that were still in great condition. It was the summertime, so I was wearing dresses. How could I elevate each look? I experimented with jewelry, a scarf, and shoes, all of which I already owned. During that time, I also refocused my skincare routine. I was reorienting my relationship to purchasing. Mostly, when I shopped, it was to say I could have something, instead of actually acquiring a useful item. I was consuming a lot. But I was also tired of returning items. For me, a big part of being an adult is learning the difference between a need and a want. It carries in my spending power and what I desire to have.
In those 75 days, I began to move away from being in a consistent place of want. I became more secure in focusing on my needs and unfollowing constant consumption culture.
Is underconsumption the answer?
Influencer culture has been shifting lately, moving more toward the idea of underconsumption. Videos of seven-product showers are becoming rarer. Videos shoved in your face that YOU MUST OWN THIS PRODUCT OR YOUR FACE WILL FALTER are not resonating with the masses anymore. The desire for simplicity has become greater. Online consumers are becoming more financially, physically, and mentally conscious.
However, I question the genuineness of this trend toward underconsumption. How do influencers prioritize the value of their audience instead of the value of money when products are not the focus? As with any trend, how long will the thrill of underconsumption last? (Just a note to say that underconsumption is not to be confused with sustainability, which has its own brigade of content creators informing the public about being more conscious consumers for Earth and for themselves.)
I also asked these questions as I participated in that online challenge, and still do. Sponsored ads and partnerships are still robust within influencer culture. I realize now that it can be healthier to spend less time on social media in order to avoid getting caught up in—and being influenced by—the buy-buy-buy culture. I can still use social media as a tool to stay informed and improve my life. But my focus on social media must also evolve. I’m trying to be less of a consumer. I don’t need a basket full of products to be clean.
The consciousness of consumption
Overall, I understand that I have control over my buying impulses. What do I own? What do I buy? What do I eat? What do I consume? I am evolving in how I care for myself long term.
Where is my money most vital? Because I love to travel, I want my money to go toward substantial experiences, rather than toward things I don’t actually need. While I love a coupon, I recognize that sales can give customers the illusion that they are saving money.
As people reevaluate their journey with spending, I’d like to encourage them to think about where things come from. For me, getting dressed is a refuge as I combat feelings of depression. I also recognize that I am not in a place of lack. Still, I like the way my relationship ton spending has shifted. I have a value ecosystem that stretches beyond me for the better.
