It’s torture for an inbox zero kind of person. By nightfall, I’ve erased all traces yet by morning there’s a fresh avalanche to dig out of: dozens upon dozens of emails detailing “exclusive” pre-Black Friday sales; “this time we’re serious” pre-Black Friday sales; “last chance to take advantage” of pre-Black Friday sales; Black Friday sales!; “we decided to extend it one more day” Black Friday sales; “you convinced us: one extra day” Black Friday sales; “it’s time for our pre-holiday season” sales; and on and on it goes.
These six or so weeks from mid-November through to the New Year are brutal on the delete key and, if you’re not careful, the wallet. While the US economy is arguably the strongest of the developed world, Americans almost universally declare it’s shitty. Yet that’s not enough to tighten their collective belt: they spent a record $9.8 billion online on Black Friday alone, up 7.5% for the year. And for a chaser they spent $12.4 billion on Cyber Monday, so declared because we definitely needed another day dedicated to shopping.
Now, I’m no exemplar of prudence and austerity. But I’ll mount a lame defense: I try really hard to buy products I love that will last, and I’m trying even harder to adopt a one-in, one-out philosophy, especially with clothing. I absolutely still have too much of everything. But moving to an apartment has reminded me how much I was surrounded by that I never looked at, used, or wore, so living with less has been top of mind for a while.
It was only underscored on the weekend. I spent three nights in Todos Santos on Mexico’s Baja Peninsula with the eight guys who have been my rock for the past year as I’ve navigated life’s winding trail. Actually, we’ve all been each other’s rocks because, well, a lot of men are these days navigating a lot of stuff. It was fantastic.
And despite traveling with just a carry-on, I overpacked. As usual. I can’t recall a vacation where I desperately needed something I didn’t bring (I’m talking clothing here; the forgotten toothbrush or contact-lens solution is another story). Generally, as I prepare to return home I realize that (a) I’ve worn pretty much the same thing the whole time I was away and (b) all the other stuff packed “just in case” was untouched. And it’s not as though the “just in case” occasions didn’t happen—we went out for that nice dinner—but it turned out I was just fine wearing what I was wearing.
One of my friends in Mexico had actually been there for a few weeks, working remotely with a plan to return to Los Angeles for Christmas. To give you a sense of his heritage, he was a writer in New York City for one of the world’s most famous fashion magazines, known for being out on the town looking fantastic. He’s become a men’s coach but remains deeply across consumer trends and all that entails because, well, you never truly leave an industry.
“I brought all this stuff down here and I’ve literally worn the same thing pretty much every day,” he said, looking down at his worn-in pants, tee, and Birkenstocks. I’d add he had a great tan and looked very much like life south of the border agreed with him, as did pretty much every person I saw. Lift the burden of consumerism and you find the joy of communion.
Anyone with kids knows this season is a particular balance of wonder and annoyance. Wonder at seeing your children so excited by what’s to come, with deep discussions of how Santa will enter the house (chimney at their mum’s place; the balcony at mine); what to leave out for a snack (milk and cookies, natch); how he manages to get presents to everyone (“magic”); and very, very, very long discussions about what those presents may be, provided the kids have been nice, not naughty.
All of which means there’ll be toy jackhammers and Lego sets and little bits and bobs to make the day feel really special. And, as all parents know, annoyance arrives in the form of the most popular, most played with gift being something that wasn’t a gift at all: a box or some ribbon or wrapping paper. And this isn’t just at Christmas. Hundreds of toys gather dust as my eldest son becomes oddly obsessed with found objects—a pen snared in his school playground becomes a talisman for a week or two before it’s replaced by “a really cool shell” that may or may not, actually, be a shell.
Launching a rant against consumerism would be total hypocrisy. But I am increasingly aware that beyond a certain base amount—stuff that keeps you warm, safe, and fed—products rarely fall into the “need” category, even if they often stray into the “nice to have” lane (don’t even think of taking my espresso rig). Having something of a uniform helps, for sure, at least in terms of reducing impulse purchases. As does buying things that last and deriving greater joy as they age, developing the same dents and scratches as their owner. But the deeper shift is psychological for most of us, I suspect: realizing stuff simply doesn’t matter and can only ever bring temporary happiness.
That won’t, of course, stop retailers from trying. My browser updated this morning and tells me it now has “more ways to save as you shop”—the saving presumably meaning I’m still spending money, just less of it. And another 25 emails landed as I quickly bashed this post out (“Christmas gifts”; “Holiday gifts for her”; “Gifts for the life of the party”; “Our best holiday gifts”). Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.
A note about whatever this is …
After writing a few thousand articles for newspapers and magazines, I spent a long time trying a bunch of other stuff. I guess I figured what came (relatively) easily must by definition be less valuable, so I wandered in the corporate wilderness, becoming increasingly frustrated and doing work that felt increasingly lousy.
Sometimes with age comes wisdom, and I’ve realized finding something (relatively) easy ain’t a bad thing. So, this is a space where I’m resurrecting writing for myself, on topics weird and wild and wonderful.
Posts will appear when the mood takes me, but I do try to be consistently inconsistent—sometimes it’ll be a couple of days between drinks; sometimes a week. But if you subscribe, you’ll get a email letting you know I’m ranting. Again.