🔗 Share this article

One day at work two years ago, an alert popped up on my mobile device: my salary had come through. It was a fair amount for a student, so I did my what I always did when payday arrived: I launched every retail application on my device. From Amazon to Zara, you name it. Within the space of an hour, I had spent £90 on clothes, decorative items and a totally unused weighted blanket that I never used.

A short while after, I went online again and bought a blow dryer. I already had one, but thought another wouldn't be a problem. Then I included light strips and two pairs of shoes that weren’t even my size. This wasn’t new behaviour. In reality, I’d been notorious for it ever since I could afford to buy my own things.

Whenever I felt stressed, exhausted or bored, I would doomscroll until it inevitably ended in an unplanned shopping spree. My justification was constantly: “It's only £5.” But £5 turned into £10, then £20, and continued.

I was never completely sure why I did this. Perhaps it was because my upbringing in a low-income family, where we’d experience months without purchasing new clothes or anything to brighten up the house. So any moment I had some disposable income, there was always a hidden yearning for new and thrilling things. Or maybe, and almost certainly, I was just bad with money and succumbed readily to capitalism’s consumerism.

The Game-Changing Strategy

In the end, I decided to experiment with something new. Prior to buying anything, I’d place it in my digital cart, wait 24 hours, then make a choice on whether to check out. The greatest advantage of this technique was that it gave me space to think – something I’d never done before. For the first occasion since I turned 18, I began questioning: “Do I actually need this? Can I afford it?” More often than not, the response was no.

If I accessed Amazon, Depop or Zara and discovered items lingering in my basket, I’d remove them and start fresh. Using this method, I stopped acquiring goods that I intuitively knew I would never use. I once wanted to buy a trio of games, but after waiting before visiting the store, I realised I never actually play board games.

I also wanted to buying a single-use camera for my first holiday to the coast. After pausing I remembered I possessed a phone, like most people, that features a perfectly good camera, and thus did not need to buy a separate camera.

The Lasting Impact

It also signifies I am more discerning about the things I do purchase, and I can finally review my financial records devoid of feeling shame or embarrassment.

Of course, there have been occasions I’ve slipped back into previous habits – it’s only natural. The difference now is that I can identify the warning signs early, particularly when I’m rushing into a transaction. I’ve realised boredom is a strong trigger. It’s probably the biggest driver of my reckless expenditure.

Modern culture preys on this idleness and our desire for instant satisfaction. That’s the reason, in hindsight, forcing myself to halt before purchasing 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 straightforward.