I was inspired to write this by a blog post by Joel. I encourage you to go and read it.
Growing up, I didn’t care much about consumption. Sure, like every little boy I enjoyed having toys to play with. I absolutely badgered my parents to buy me a console or a PC game because I loved playing with those. But I didn’t think about the monetary aspect of it all, about repairability, about value vs. cost, about sustainability, any of that. I just wanted things and the only way to get them was via my parents or other people through birthday or Christmas gifts. That was how things were and it was fine.
When I moved out from home to go to university, I basically lived in relative poverty. Living in Germany, this means that I had little to no monthly surplus to spend on vanities, but was provided for in terms of food and shelter. Clothing was not within the budget, I asked my parents when I needed something which wasn’t a lot. Splurging meant buying a book this month or spending five bucks on Döner (if you don’t know what that is but would like to, see here). I was happy this way. I had what I needed, which wasn’t much, and was rather proud with how little I could make a living.
All of this started changing when I was about 25 and finally made my own money. I was no longer dependent on family to provide for me and was self-sufficient. At long last I could buy whatever I wanted when I wanted it! I remember how exhilerating this felt and I spent my first salary on a gaming PC, having previously always to make do with leftovers, discarded machines by friends or what my parents decided to buy. It was glorious! Other than that, I didn’t radically change my behavior, though. I was still the same person, my lifestyle was still rather frugal but over time I started to get used to not having to fret whether I could afford something. I started getting my groceries from the store around the corner, even though it was more expensive than the discounter further away. I started eating out more because I’d always enjoyed it and now could indulge myself whenever I wanted. I liked this life, it felt carefree.
Things didn’t stay this way. I have a family, another job and responsibilities now. I’m no longer the only person I have to consult when making bigger decisions and that extends to buying stuff. I’ve gotten used to the fact that buying, consuming gives me a kick. There’s a reason why it can be addictive, there’s just something indescribably thrilling and satisfying when I’m going shopping for things I want or like. That thrill usually doesn’t last long but it is what it is.
By now I’ve grown more of an awareness of consumerism, I would say. I know that my lifestyle and almost everyone in my country (and most people on my continent, I think) is not sustainable. We produce too much unnecessary junk, we buy new things too readily and too often, we repair less, we throw away more, we conserve too little (materially, I mean). It is difficult for me sometimes to relate price, cost and value of a product because its production and story is hidden from me. When I buy glasses, a watch, a pair of pants, toilet paper, I have no idea who made it, how it was made, whether the people involved received a decent wage, whether the environment was polluted with toxic waste during the production. The only way I know how to judge whether a price is fair is by comparing to something else that usually has the same disconnect described just now.
But all of that said, I find — somewhat to my astonishment, even though the realization is not new — that I like buying and owning stuff. I enjoy buying and having useful things, comfortable things, pretty things, things that make my life easier, nicer, more comfortable or maybe only promise to do so. And I’m willing to pay for those things, quite a bit sometimes, if I’m sufficiently convinced that the product is “worth it”, usually meaning that the quality of the thing is such that it will last long and prove useful or desirable to me. I know this all sounds very vague. A while ago I realized that on some days the sum of the clothes I wear — including shoes, pants, shirt, hoodie, jacket — exceeds 700 €. That’s a lot of money. But I found that I take some pride in the fact that my clothes are comfortable, useful, sustainably produced (at least party) and look good but not posh.
When we bought a tumble dryer, we went with one of the most expensive options because we came to the conclusion that the quality justifies the price. When I like a brand of shoes, I’m willing to spend 100-150 € on a pair because convince myself that they’re worth it.
Buying something — consuming — is so baked into the DNA of our culture by now that there seems little room for questioning it anymore. Things are not designed to be the best product possible but to make the most money possible. Black Week, Amazon Prime Days (or whatever) are an established institution by now, even outside of the US, although I really wish that weren’t the case. It’s so easy to just go online, click a few buttons and receive almost whatever you want within a couple days, delivered to your doorstep. It’s so convenient. And despite all my grousing I’ve been infected by this, too. I love my wireless over-ear headphones, my Steam Deck — for which I frequently buy games even though I still have plenty of unplayed games in my library — my shoes, even my phone, although my relationship to that is a bit more ambivalent. And sometimes I even look at such things online, wishing that what I currently have were broken so I’d have justification to buy new stuff, a newer model, the latest iteration. I like shiny new stuff and I really wish I didn’t. Or at least that it was restricted to free software because that’s cheaper and less disastrous to the planet.
Something else that annoys me is the fact that making an informed purchase decision has become close to impossible by now, or at least it feels like that to me. It used to be the case that you would buy something on the recommendation of someone you knew and trusted. When online shopping became a thing, so did online reviews. As time progresses these became less reliable, as people figured out how to game this system or simply lie or buy positive reviews. Doing an online search for “best {insert article here} in 2025” is guaranteed to produce nothing but noise which is only exacerbated by the advent of relentless AI slop. So now we seem to be back to buying things on the recommendation of someone we trust, although that someone might be a reputable magazine or YouTube person (which have also be known to be secretly shilling for something) but the concept remains the same. This sucks.
This turned out to be way ramblier than I had anticipated but let me reiterate: consumerism bad but I also can’t quit. Snap.