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One day at work two years ago, an notification hit on my phone: my salary had come through. It was a fair amount for a someone still at university, so I did my what I always did when payday arrived: I launched every single retail application on my device. From Amazon to Zara, you name it. In under 60 minutes, I had parted with £90 on clothes, home decor and a totally unused heavy blanket that never touched.

A few days later, I went online again and bought a hairdryer. I already had one, but thought an extra one wouldn't be a problem. Then I added light strips and two pairs of shoes that didn't even fit me. This wasn’t new behaviour. In fact, I’d been notorious for it ever since I could afford to buy my own things.

Whenever I felt stressed, tired or bored, I would mindlessly scroll until it always culminated in an unplanned shopping spree. My excuse was constantly: “Oh well, it’s just £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 low-income family, where we’d experience months without buying new clothes or anything to brighten up the home. So any moment I had extra money, there was always a subconscious desire for novel and exciting things. Or possibly, and definitely more likely, I was just bad with money and gave in readily to capitalism’s demands.

A Revolutionary Approach

Eventually, I opted to experiment with a novel idea. Prior to acquiring anything, I’d put it in my basket, wait 24 hours, then make a choice on whether to check out. The best part of this method was that it gave me space to think – something I’d never taken. For the first occasion since adulthood, I began asking myself: “Do I actually require this? Is it within my budget?” Most of the time, the response was no.

If I opened my shopping apps and discovered items lingering in my cart, I’d remove them and begin anew. Using this method, I ceased buying goods that I knew deep down I would never utilize. I once wanted to purchasing three board games, but after waiting before going to the store, I understood I never actually play board games.

I also contemplated buy a single-use camera for my first holiday to the coast. After pausing I recalled I had a phone, similar to most people, that features a perfectly good lens, and thus did not need to buy a dedicated camera.

The Enduring Benefits

It also means I am more selective about the items I do purchase, and I can finally review my bank statements devoid of feeling guilt or embarrassment.

Of course, there have been occasions I’ve relapsed into previous patterns – it’s only natural. The key change is that I can recognise the signs early, especially when I’m rushing into a purchase. I’ve come to understand ennui is a strong catalyst. It’s probably the biggest motivator of my impulsive expenditure.

Modern culture exploits this boredom and our desire for immediate gratification. That’s why, in hindsight, forcing myself to pause before buying has felt strangely liberating. To be able to have command over my urges and reaffirming that I don’t need to spend my diligently earned money on unnecessary goods feels as revolutionary as it is straightforward.