It's Time for Another Consumerist and Digital Reset
For years, I’ve had this odd obsession with packing videos. I could watch hours of footage of frequent travelers demonstrating how much they can get into small amounts of space for their long-haul adventures. I loved seeing how many compartments one little bag had that made organizing so much easier–often thinking “if I had that bag or that packing cube or that whatever-it-was, that would solve all my packing problems.” I also especially love it when a packing demonstration video comes along with their go-to packing list because that would then help turn me from an overpacker to a minimalist packer. The irony is that travel minimalism in this scenario required buying something.
I’m still obsessed with these videos, if perhaps dulled a little bit by the fact I don’t travel to the same extent I used to. And you know what, Instagram’s algorithms know it. Scroll down four posts and it’s yet another video demonstrating how much one can pack into a small carry-on backpack. And, of course, I watch the whole damn video which, therefore, leads to being fed more of that content (mixed in with anti-aging products that have surfaced on my feed since I reached my 40s and realized I spent a lifetime not taking care of my skin).
Last year when I was in the middle of my No-Buy Year, the vague accountability I had with that commitment was plenty for me to avoid getting too sucked in. Alas, since I moved on beyond the “official” commitment to buying less, it only took a few weeks before I got sucked back into being influenced.
And so, today, I have a confession for y’all: I did make purchases directly from being influenced by Instagram. I feel terribly guilty about it, but only after justifying these purchases to myself. And it’s not only those purchases, I’ve made a number of purchases from my beloved Wool& which I’ve justified to myself that these were made out of a commitment to sustainability because of the brand’s ethos and telling myself “I can just sell it on Wool&’s Buy/Sell/Trade Facebook group.” Yet my latest influence-purchases jolted me into reality that I was being drawn right back into those capitalist dopamine hits (you know that temporary joy one feels when a new product arrives on doorstep. It’s satisfying at the moment, but it's temporary).
It’s a slippery slope. It’s only been two months since I officially ended the No-Buy Year. Although, if I’m being honest, it’s more like three months since it actually ended because I started to let the commitment slide by the time the holidays came around. It begins with one purchase–even one from a thrift store–and then goes onto another and another and soon you’re buying a bag from Instagram that you most certainly don’t need, but you’ve convinced yourself that you do need because you’ve paired down your packing so much because of all the new wool dresses you’ve purchased recently.
So here I am, confessing to you today that I need a consumerist reset. I saw a post on the Wool& Facebook group along the same lines that inspired me. The post-er shared an outfit, but specifically she posted because she had committed not to purchase any new clothes until after she had completed her 100-day challenge. She was posting for accountability. Sometimes just saying or writing it out loud to another person or group of people is all it takes. I’m taking this person’s lead and posting about this here for accountability. I haven’t yet decided what it looks like. It’s not going to be a No-Buy Year, but like any commitment, there need to be some specific timelines and ground rules. If you have some ideas, let me know in the comments!
The other thing this has gotten me thinking about is my relationship to technology and digital media. It’s clear with the way Instagram’s algorithms feed me what my brain gravitates towards, that the link between consumerism and digital media go hand-in-hand. So perhaps there’s another commitment in this reset as well, which is one I’ve struggled with for the entire period of my life that I’ve possessed a smartphone.
Recently I was listening to my friend Carmella’s podcast Scroll Sanity (which is an offshoot of her fantastic Substack newsletter,
). She has recently committed to a “dumb phone/The Light Phone on her journey to having a healthy relationship with digital media. She talked about what led her to this decision in the podcast episode–specifically how easy it was to get lost in her phone which made her kids compete with her phone’s attention.“I started to realize that I sort of was becoming spiritually sick,” she said, “because I started to notice that I couldn’t be alone with myself.”
Oof, if that wasn’t a mirror being held up to me, I don’t know what was. I wondered recently what it was like before I had a smartphone. Which honestly was not that long ago. I think I had made it all the way through my Twenties before succumbing to the draw of the screen. What I likely did was stand in line at the grocery store staring ahead or watching the people around me or just thinking about whatever was going on when I didn’t have the pull of the phone.
But now, I find that letting myself be pulled down that scroll hole, I was also more inclined to succumb to product influences. So withdrawing myself from the digital world is just as much a part of this process as resisting the temptation to purchase something.
That all said, I’m not ready for a dumb phone just yet. Maybe I never will be. But what I do know is I need a reset. Again, I haven’t decided what that will look like with my digital media habit. And again, I’m taking suggestions.
What all of this has confirmed is that not even a year(ish) of a commitment to lower my consumerist habits was enough to truly rewire my brain. That it is going to take much more of me to reestablish a different relationship with stuff.
I’m curious what you all do to commit to a long-term habit of buying less and/or consuming smarter.
You know what did it for me? Moving to Vietnam (from Portugal.)
Nothing wakes you up to the effects of consumerism until you get to experience life in the countries that produce the stuff we consume, which coincidentally are the same countries the global north ships its trash to.
There is plastic everywhere. Just mountains of stuff everywhere you look: in the waters, outside of the cities, in the cities. That is assuming you can see the plastic through the insanely polluted air. I wake up every day at 4AM to go for a run because by 7, you start seeing the smog permeating the city and it's unhealthy to be outside.
Living in Europe it's all so very easy to forget, we all "recycle" and sort our trash, not realizing only 5% of plastic can actually be recycled, the rest is burned or shipped to developing countries (like Vietnam.)
I was intellectually aware of this, aren't we all? But again, only truly woke up to the gravity when I moved to Vietnam. I am SO mindful now of everything I buy.
I need this kind of reset too! I'm obsessed with sustainable Canadian clothing brand, Encircled. They are a wonderful company but I spend far too much money there!! It's so much easier to justify spending heaps of money at an ethical company isn't it?