Friends and family often refer to me as 'a born consumer'. Although I am inclined to agree with them I am always slightly indignant at the label. Don't get me wrong, I love 'consuming'! Whether it is a meal at the latest up and coming restaurant, a pair of 'must-have' ballets from my favourite shoe store, Sambag, or a luxurious shower gel for my swimming bag I am not afraid to admit that I get joy from these purchases. I am the self titled 'Queen of laybys' and could write a 2500 word essay justifying why I 'need' a 10th pair of ballet flats to join the other nine already residing in my wardrobe. But, yes, I have a problem with the title 'born consumer'. Why is this? I suppose it is a matter of pride in my individualism.
Let me explain. The title 'born consumer' suggests a level of conformity that I am unwillingly to admit to. For example: I love buying fashion magazines (Instyle and Madison are my consistent favourites), I will pore over the advertisements, fashion shoots and articles, dog earring a page showing a scrummy Prada or Gucci handbag and ripping out pages with ideas on how to achieve the 'perfect corporate wardrobe'. BUT, I rarely, if ever, buy an item I have lusted after in the folds of one of these glossy fashion mags. Why not? For two reasons:
- although I might love a fashion trend it is rare that I think I can pull it off - drain pipe jeans? Only on a size 6 or 8 with legs a mile long! 8 inch high platform courts? Only if I want to break an ankle walking down the Terrace; and
- even if I love an item and think I can pull it off it usually falls into one of two categories:
- I can't afford it, at least not if I want to eat for the next three months; or
- I can afford it which means it is a high street store item and if I buy it I will see another 20 girls wearing it within two weeks of me buying it.
Am I being a little melodramatic? Quite possibly, but do I not make a good point? The title born consumer suggests someone who is a slave to the trends advertised in magazines, on television, even on the back of buses. A friend I knew to be neck high in credit card debt once proudly showed me her latest purchase: a Louis Vuitton pink leather wallet. Why did you buy that when you couldn't afford it and you already had a perfectly fine LV wallet, I asked in shock. Her reply 'its the latest out and I just had to have it', left me gobsmacked!
Yes, I am happy to admit I buy much more than I need (who doesn't) and yes, I could save a lot more if I didn't shop as much as I do, but I get a lot of joy from what I buy! Does this make me materialistic, I wonder? Probably. My brother recently put me on to a blog run by two 30ish guys based in America called 'The Minimalists'. The concept behind the blog is the idea of a minimalist lifestyle, reducing your worldly possessions to the bare minimum in order to 'live a meaningful life with less stuff'.
One of the minimalist's recently blogged about the fact he had reduced his possessions to 288, he even posted photos of his, rather bare, studio apartment. Part of me admired his dedication to living a less consumer driven life, another part of me was horrified (288 things! Hell, my jewellery collection alone would be up around 200 items!) and yet a third part of me looked at the photos of his apartment and thought eeekkk! How depressing!
I mean where do we draw the line? Am I materialistic because I have around 200 items of jewellery? What if I told you that half of those items were gifts from loved ones, inherited, passed down, given on a special birthday, graduation or occasion? How about my art collection? I started collecting when I was in my early twenties, now I am thirty I probably have around 20 pieces most of them by artists I have met through my Mum's art gallery, some of whom are dear friends. Should I stop collecting in order to 'live a meaningful life with less stuff'? When do we become so consumed by our self imposed ideals that we can't live without the latest trend Louis Vuitton key ring or (at the other extreme) have to count our belongings in order to justify a meaningful existence?
I don't have the answer to any of these questions and I am not going to pretend I do. All I am going to say is this: I get joy from waking up in the morning to a pastel seascape that hangs above my dresser, I love that I think of a particular friend when I put on the necklace she gave me for my 30th, I feel whimsical when I put on a 5 year old dress that has seen better days but I don't have the heart to get rid of and I get a thrill when I empty my capacious wardrobe onto my bed in search of the perfect dinner dress. If that makes me materialistic or a born consumer then it's worth it!
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