4/29/24

Money has never not been an issue in my life. Though I consider myself privileged to share the closeness I feel with my parents, that privilege came with its own fair share of tribulations. My family was, is, and always will be very transparent, and growing up, one of those transparencies was the saturation that was lent to my family's financial position. We spent money where it mattered; my sister's and my education, once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and celebrations. But they made us abundantly aware of where the line was drawn. Though I was able to attend private schools that they supposed suited my learning style more efficiently, we couldn't afford to live in the neighborhoods my friends at said schools lived in, much less do the things they did. And that was never an issue for us. But as I aged and came into the money of my own, the lingering side effects of being so money-conscious at such a young age reared my attention. Far from poor, but much further from rich, we lived in comfort. We shopped clearance racks and bargain bins, hand-me-downs, and sometimes hand-me-ups, and saved our finances for more meaningful events. But because of this, and the impending doom of fashion icons in the midst, I was more than willing to break this tradition upon the securing of my first part time job. Finally, I was able to see an article of clothing and not have to worry about whether my parents could afford it, I could buy it myself. I swiped till Dora would raise a suspecting eyebrow, and tasted my first lick of financial freedom. But what shook me later on, was even though, at the time, my spending habits posed little to no negative impact as I was fortunate to have my finances belong to myself and myself alone, this new form of self-medication would create a hole burned so big in my 21-year-old pockets, I would have to weigh the pros and cons of whether groceries or a new Hello Kitty T-Shirt was more important for my overall wellbeing. 

Retail therapy is a form of self-help only overshadowed by the realistic form of self-harm that it is in the long run. For most, it takes the shape of a sweet little treat after a particularly grueling day of school or work, for some, it can be a trip to Target to scan the isles for a $20 candle proven to remove the stress of an adult lifestyle. But with the ever-rising prices of just about everything and increasing debt the average student finds themselves in year by year, it begs the question; how do we justify it? In a global climate where every purchase means something and a sweet treat is closer to an hour of your salary rather than an easy $5, is retail therapy still as therapeutic as our Moms raised us to believe it is? Or is it just one more way to feel like we have autonomy over our financial positions?

The financial fear distilled into my too-young brain is a very real issue, one which I am still grappling with today. Yesterday, I went to a Sunday flea market, an activity I have yet to find quite as worth my while, gratifying, and gut-wrenchingly shameful in all my 21 years of age. As I paced the rows of vendors, making mental notes of the objects I would come back to for later consideration once I've racked up enough wants to begin worrying about my future finances, I could not help but consider what the reason for which buying something I had never seen before was something I needed to do so desperately. In my day-to-day life, I quench the thirst for substantial economic investment by looking at all the economic investments I could ever want. Hours melt away scouwering the depths of Depop and Pinterest for objects that I'll never buy but would sell a limb to own, and in the process, I find good identification of my own brand image. So by the time a Sunday flea market is earned and well overdue, one might even think I would have a good idea and enough time invested to spend my money wisely. But when faced with the realities of purchases you couldn't have even fathomed - antique pictures of babies from 1945, deer skulls, postcards from places you have never been, and clothing with sweat stains that would make any blue-collar worker proud - wallets become significantly looser, and the therapy of a retail addiction transforms into something much closer related to the fast-paced competitive hunter/gatherer lifestyle were all bred to desire. Amid vendor #112, I begin to consider what the reasoning behind such purchases is. 

I utilize retail therapy as a means to bring myself joy. A touch of whimsy and a solid find at my local Goodwill Bins can save me from weeks of emotional torment. However, I'm also a full-time student, one which has little money to spend on my own enjoyment and desire. But the question I've been grappling with, alongside the slew of aforementioned prose, is whether or not I am a victim or a savior of my role within an almost unanimously global mindset towards money and how to spend it. Everything has some kind of value, and in America especially, that results in literally everything costing money. Groceries are almost an entire part-time paycheck at this point, let alone the less necessary necessities like a good Shampoo and Conditioner or your favorite 0 calorie beverage to binge sans guilt. In my research, I found it's more than common for this to be justification enough to splurge a little on something special as a reward for all the money spent on things less desired. If I have to spend an entire paycheck on things I don't want but I do need for the sake of my survival, why shouldn't I be allowed to lose the purse strings just that little bit more to afford something that would bring me joy upon the unpacking of bags when I get home? A sweet treat is motivation. Whether it be an $8 smoothie after a grueling hot yoga session or a collectible trinket to put displayed on a shelf and never again moved after an upsettingly low grade, this mindset is utilized as an almost "fuck you" to the expectations of how we spend our money. With prices so high, it's getting close to enforced that we spend our hard-earned doubloons on electric bills and $7 eggs, and guard the remaining coins for next month's panic-attack-causing statement. So these people swipe their card for gas and food with a middle finger to God as they add another pair of shoes to their Saks Fifth shopping cart. On the other hand, there is something to be said about the consumption of material goods, and why exactly it is we feel that will heal us. 

For most of the blogs I write I research by just talking with my friends and observing the world around me, and letting the information come to me in a way. However, for this week I needed some outside opinions. The other day I had a terrific conversation with my Dad, a man I take just about every thought I have regarding money from, and a Jewish man at that, who believes strongly that nothing is or will ever be black and white. With that in mind, we talked about the concept of retail therapy and the two-fold complications of spending money without rhyme or reason beyond personal want. The way he framed it is that, as gratifying as it is to own something you want, there is an equivocal amount of questioning that arises with why such behaviors are shared by all Americans, specifically. From a young age, especially in my generation but almost unilaterally at this point, we are forced with the idea of consuming. Buy more toys, want more clothes, window shop when you can't afford it. Want. Want more and more and more and buy more and more and sell more if you don't have room to buy more or even better buy more space to hold more things that you buy and sell and want. It's a constant and ever-pressing loop. You can buy magic serums that de-age you and food that shrinks your stomach as you eat it, pants that tighten your booty, and transplants to hide your natural hairline, toys that will raise your kids for you, and robots that learn the layout of your house. All you need to do is spend a little money and your problems will solve themselves. Except for the one problem no purchase can ever solve; being poor. Now you're broke because you spent your paycheck on insoles that make you taller and vinegar pills that suppress your appetite and you can't afford rent. So you budget and save and eventually you've saved enough to get the groceries for the month that you need, but all you can think about is that blank space on your wall that begs to have a $50 TJ Maxx painting hung from it. And the thought is, if you spent $150 on necessities, what's an extra $50 on something that will actually make you happy? And the loop continues. So is it really a middle finger to God? Or are you a victim of an ever-growing circuit you can't ever escape from, one which makes you think you're giving a middle finger to God by playing into their schemes? 

The way I see it, as someone personally victimized by my own self-loathing and the sheer weight of guilt upon almost any use of my card nowadays, is why not? As much as the mindset of "no ethical consumption under capitalism" has been run into the ground by SHEIN hauls and AliExpress coupons, it is also a very true statement. At this price bracket, it is inescapable, the weight of capitalism is unavoidable, and sometimes we have no choice but to give ourselves the sense of financial freedom we know is possible, just not at our current pay rate. Think reasonably, think consciously, and purchase responsibly. As long as you're not throwing money away, what's a little special something going to do in the long run? Yes, there will always be people telling you you can spend your money a little wiser, but those people don't know the joys of a coffee and Target run on a bored Saturday evening. Retail Therapy is called therapy for a reason. Not because it actually solves any of our problems, or even that it necessarily makes us feel any better, but because sometimes all you need to get through a hard week is being able to show your roommate this really cool necklace you found online as you wait giddily next to the mailbox. Sometimes all you need is a little something new.