250 Things I Didn’t Buy This Week: Deinfluence Your Closet + Wallet
250 Things I Didn’t Buy This Week: Deinfluence Your Closet + Wallet
Does it bring me closer or further from myself?
Recently, I wrote about how the internet switched gears from being all about discovery to a place where everything's for sale. It's a puzzle trying to tell real content from ads, affiliate links, and all those sponsored shoutouts. Even with regulations out there, it’s still the wild west. You can read that article here.
I'm constantly figuring out how to navigate and engage with this space more intentionally. Sometimes while exploring fashion writers on Substack, I can slip into shopping mode without realizing it, and forget that I don't need to be thinking about buying all the time. Here are a few thoughts I've had on how to wander through this space without falling into a consumption trap.
Identify that many influencers and content creators serve as the conduit through which businesses and corporations communicate, subtly embedding their messages and products into our daily scroll. I like to think of it as the Long Island Medium channeling messages from your Great Uncle Tony on the other side, but in the influencer's world, it's not spirits they're channeling—it's Bezos urging me to buy a 100% polyester dress all while posing in a luxurious setting like Palm Heights Grand Cayman. Creators and influencers are running businesses. They act as marketers for companies. Does this imply they hold any animosity towards you or harbor ill will? Not at all. But it's vital to understand that for many of them, their main role is to advertise products to you on the internet. They're in a tough industry, competing with peers to grab your focus with constant product promotions, because essentially, they earn their living from you. So, when you spot them passionately promoting yet another $300 "essential" sweater, don't feel jealous. Rather, view it as a reminder that they're professionals at work. If I recognize that someone’s main gig will always be trying to sell to me, I treat most of their content as “promotions.” In the best case, it just starts to feel pretty boring after a while, like I’m being constantly given marketing emails. If I’m going through a vulnerable time and don’t want to shop? I unsubscribe.
I want to be very clear here that I am not pointing fingers at influencers and content creators. I’m more curious how we got to this point. Echoing this brilliant tradwife TikTok: What does it tell us about our economy and societal values when women, even those with high-level education and corporate backgrounds, find more success and a better quality of life by showcasing and selling items online? This isn't about knocking down influencers or those who love fashion; it's about acknowledging that in 2024, one of the most lucrative options for a woman might be to build up an image cosplaying a socialite who can never be satiated and her biggest aspirations are to have more stuff.
It's a let down for women, particularly because the driving force behind this trend stems from overconsumption and large corporations. They invest in these partnerships, brand deals, and affiliate commissions to peddle the illusion of an enviable lifestyle to the masses. However, it's likely many of us will never achieve this lifestyle due to the societal and structural failures that perpetuate these inequalities in the first place. You’ve got to consider who is really winning here. Hint: it’s not the person with the polyester frock.
Master your own consumption pace. The optics of seeing constant consumption can be a mind f*ck. Observing people showcasing new products weekly might now seem normal (especially if those items are gifted.) But a lifestyle of constant consumption is simply not feasible for 99% of us (or the planet). I try to make a conscious effort to monitor my own consumption pace and keep my perspective from becoming too extreme. While some people's extremism looks like a youtube rabbit hole about how Taylor Swift is a government psyop, my version is repeatedly landing on a site showcasing a $5,000 handbag. The more I see it, the more this outrageous price tag starts to feel, well, normal. It's a classic case of being bombarded with something so much that it begins to seem like the standard, even when it's anything but. That's the real extremity of it all, the subtle nudge that a luxury item with such a hefty price is just another ordinary choice, when in reality, it's a plunge down a very plush, very expensive rabbit hole. Why do I keep getting bombarded with these high-ticket items? Maybe it’s about lining someone else's pockets. Think about it—if someone offered me $5,000 cash or that fancy bag right there on the sidewalk, which would I honestly choose?
Consider who's shaping your decisions, what they might benefit from it, and the mechanisms behind these influences. There’s been great speculation about, "Who can actually afford to live like this?" But perhaps other questions are, "Who wants us to think we can afford to live like this? How do they benefit from it?"
Ask yourself, who is it for? What does it represent? Remember the craze for Pound Puppies back in the day? As adults, we're still after trends and for what, to catch the eye of an online audience we'll likely never encounter? It really makes you question who we're trying to impress. What if Mitch McConnell was really into The Row? Would the item still be on our wishlist? Once you peel back the layers of glitzy settings, it's all about understanding the real reason behind our purchases. This hit home when I wore an Issey Miyake Pleats Please set to a football game and someone mistook it for pajamas. Initially I wanted to snap with “Now you listen here simp, it’s time for a lesson in taste”, but then it struck me—I chose this outfit for myself. In that setting, nobody really got it, but even if they did, should that validation matter? I like it, and that's what counts.
Am I wearing this because it genuinely appeals to me, or am I wearing it for the image it projects? A reader's comment on my last post really nailed the concept of desiring an item more for its symbolism than its actual substance:
“I still find myself sucked into certain influencers because their lifestyle is aspirational. It’s like “I’m going to buy her dress because I want her vacation” which is insane thinking. I am not on IG anymore and I stepped away (about 2 weeks ago) from even checking in on influencers and I’m trying to find my own voice in what I wear, buy, etc. because it’s been lost in the noise of influencing.” Kelly Williams | Any Given Day
Differentiate between shopping content and style content. This was the key that helped me stop veering towards so much endless shopping list peddle, lured by the blur between genuine style exploration and instant gratification. After my 50th email of "250 things I bought this week," it hit me: I was chasing the quick dopamine hit of a new buy, not a true love for fashion.
The temptation of instant gratification from shopping content is undeniable. It's a cycle where every click and purchase strengthens the muscle for more, eroding the patience needed for deeper style exploration. Sometimes, I'll catch myself chasing that quick dopamine rush, but deep down, I understand that genuine personal style isn't about rapid consumption—it's about a profound connection and expression of oneself. When I realize I'm falling into that dopamine trap, I’m like “hold up, maybe what I truly need is just to take a walk outside or have a good conversation with a friend."
So, does this bring me closer or further from myself? Is it for long term satisfaction or merely a shortcut to a feel-good moment? It's a question I ask myself more frequently. By focusing on what genuinely enriches my understanding of fashion or myself—beyond the superficial appeal of shopping—I cultivate a personal style that reflects my values and preferences, not just the latest trends or products. I don’t think it makes sense to pull inspiration from sources where everything is constantly paid for, or sponsored, or subject to kickbacks. It feels backwards when trying to develop your own personal style.
So I gravitate towards what teaches me how to shop and maximize my current wardrobe, advocate for mindful consumption, and doesn't push me towards specific purchases. I prefer resources that delve into topics like proportions, the rationale behind trends, and thoughtful buying strategies. And that's how I navigate the fine line between style inspiration and the seduction of shopping content, aiming for a more thoughtful and less consumption focused journey.
And don’t get me wrong, sometimes, I'm just like, "Screw it, I need an escape. I don't want to overthink things.” I just want to enjoy this like I enjoy leafing through glossy magazines, simply taking in the pretty things. But I've got to remember, escapism is profitable—the fourth wall has disappeared, and a click now might mean a purchase. So, I approach it as if I'm relaxing by the beach with a magazine, just casually browsing and appreciating the visuals without the compulsion (or pressure) to buy everything in sight. Also, when I do want to shop, there's some top-notch shopping newsletter content out there created with a lot of care and thought, and it definitely has its moment and place. I just need to ensure I'm not consuming it non-stop because then my brain starts to morph into an overcooked slice of hypercapitalist mush.
Here are a few places I’m finding inspiration right now. I’d love you to drop yours in the comments below:
What is your favorite style or shopping content? Do you differentiate between the two? I always love hearing from you.
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I love this. I recently took a break from IG for a wide variety of reasons, and one of the most pronounced effects it had on me was that I suddenly thought a lot less about stuff I (thought I) wanted to buy, and as a result I bought a lot less stuff.
There’s an influencer I follow, and one day she posted on IG about a bunch of different shoes. There was something about the sheer quantity of the shoes (all the same type) that made me feel uncomfortable and frankly kind of gross (and I say this as someone who easily has 100 pairs of shoes in a 1bd in NYC). I stopped to add up what they all must have cost, assuming she paid full price, and it was A LOT. Suddenly I thought “this woman’s job is literally to get you to buy stuff.” Like I knew it before because I am 100% someone who admits she’s easily marketed to, but I didn’t really *feel* it until that moment. It shook me awake. So now I am trying to be thoughtful in a way I’ve never been before about how I respond to influencers and how I think about buying. It’s hard! But it feels better.
My husband and I have a decent income on paper and I am baffled by the modern clothing budget. When I read "what I bought this month" posts that add up to THOUSANDS per month, I just want to know HOW?! Are their parents covering their rent? Is it all going on credit cards? Do they save for retirement as well? Did their abundance mindset do all the work?