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One afternoon at my job two years ago, an notification hit on my mobile device: my salary had come through. It was a decent sum for a student, so I did my usual payday ritual: I opened every single shopping app on my device. Amazon, Vinted, Etsy, Depop, Zara, the list was endless. Within the space of an hour, I had parted with £90 on apparel, decorative items and a totally unused weighted blanket that never touched.

A few days later, I returned to the internet 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 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 anxious, tired or uninterested, I would mindlessly scroll until it always culminated in an unplanned shopping spree. My justification was always: “It's only £5.” But £5 became £10, then £20, and continued.

I was never entirely certain why I did this. Maybe it was because my upbringing in a poor family, where we’d experience months without purchasing new outfits or anything to brighten up the home. So any time I had some disposable income, there was always a subconscious yearning for new and thrilling things. Or possibly, and almost certainly, I was just bad with money and gave in readily to capitalism’s demands.

A Revolutionary Approach

In the end, I decided to try a novel idea. Prior to buying anything, I’d put it in my digital cart, delay for 24 hours, then decide whether to finalize the purchase. The best part of this technique was that it provided me time to think – an action I’d never taken. For the first time since adulthood, I started asking myself: “Do I truly require this? Is it within my budget?” Most of the time, the answer was negative.

If I opened Amazon, Depop or Zara and found products sitting in my basket, I’d remove them and begin anew. Using this method, I ceased acquiring goods that I knew deep down I would never use. I once wanted to buy a trio of games, but after a waiting period before going to the store, I realised I never actually engage with board games.

I also contemplated buying a single-use camera for my first holiday to Croatia. After pausing I recalled I possessed a smartphone, like everybody else, that has a perfectly good camera, and therefore did not need to buy a dedicated device.

The Lasting Impact

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

Naturally, there have been occasions I’ve relapsed into old patterns – it’s only natural. The difference now is that I can recognise the warning signs sooner, particularly when I’m rushing into a purchase. I’ve realised ennui is a powerful trigger. It’s perhaps the primary driver of my reckless spending.

Modern culture exploits this idleness and our need for instant satisfaction. That’s why, in hindsight, compelling myself to halt before purchasing has felt unexpectedly liberating. To be able to have command over my impulses and remind myself that I don’t need to expend my diligently earned money on unnecessary goods feels as revolutionary as it is straightforward.