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One afternoon at my job a couple of years back, an alert popped up on my mobile device: my salary had come through. It was a decent sum for a student, so I proceeded with my what I always did payday ritual: I opened every single retail application on my device. Amazon, Vinted, Etsy, Depop, Zara, the list was endless. Within the space of an hour, I had parted with £90 on clothes, home decor and a totally useless heavy blanket that I never used.

A few days later, I went online again and purchased a hairdryer. I already owned one, but thought another couldn't hurt. Then I included light strips and two pairs of shoes that weren’t even my size. This wasn’t new behaviour. In fact, 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 unplanned shopping binge. My excuse was always: “It's only £5.” But £5 became £10, then £20, and so on.

I was never entirely sure why I did this. Perhaps it was because my upbringing in a poor family, where we’d experience months without purchasing new outfits or anything to decorate the home. So any moment I had some disposable income, there was always a subconscious yearning for new and thrilling things. Or maybe, and almost certainly, I was just bad with money and succumbed easily to capitalism’s demands.

A Revolutionary Approach

Eventually, I opted to experiment with something new. Prior to buying any item, I’d put it in my digital cart, delay for 24 hours, then make a choice whether to check out. The best part of this technique was that it provided me space to reflect – an action I’d never done before. For the first occasion since adulthood, I started asking myself: “Do I truly need this? Is it within my budget?” Most of the time, the response was no.

If I accessed my shopping apps and discovered products sitting in my basket, I’d clear them out and start fresh. Using this method, I stopped buying things that I knew deep down I would never use. I once considered buy a trio of games, but after a waiting period before going to the shop, I realised I never actually play board games.

I also wanted to buy a disposable film camera for my first trip to the coast. After waiting I recalled I possessed a phone, similar to everybody else, that features a perfectly adequate lens, and thus had no requirement to buy a dedicated device.

The Lasting Impact

It also means I am more selective about the things I do buy, and I can finally review my financial records devoid of feeling guilt or discomfort.

Naturally, there have been times I’ve slipped back into previous patterns – it’s only natural. The difference now is that I can identify the warning signs early, especially when I’m hastening into a purchase. I’ve realised ennui is a powerful trigger. It’s perhaps the biggest driver of my reckless expenditure.

Consumer culture exploits this idleness and our desire for instant satisfaction. That’s why, in hindsight, compelling myself to pause before buying has felt strangely freeing. To be able to have command over my impulses and remind myself that I don’t need to spend my diligently earned money on non-essential goods feels as radical as it is simple.