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One afternoon at my job a couple of years back, an alert popped up on my mobile device: my salary had come through. It was a fair amount for a student, so I proceeded with my what I always did payday ritual: I launched every shopping app on my phone. From Amazon to Zara, you name it. In under 60 minutes, I had parted with £90 on clothes, decorative items and a totally unused weighted blanket that never touched.

A few days later, I returned to the internet and purchased a blow dryer. I already had one, but reasoned an extra one wouldn't be a problem. Then I included light strips and two pairs of shoes that didn't even fit me. This wasn't a new pattern. In fact, 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 inevitably ended in an impulsive shopping binge. My excuse was always: “It's only £5.” But £5 turned into £10, then £20, and so on.

I was never completely sure why I did this. Maybe it was due to my upbringing in a low-income family, where we’d experience months without purchasing new clothes or anything to decorate the house. So any time I had some disposable income, there was always a subconscious yearning for novel and exciting things. Or maybe, and definitely more likely, I was just financially irresponsible and succumbed easily to capitalism’s consumerism.

The Game-Changing Strategy

Eventually, I decided to experiment with something new. Prior to buying any item, I’d put it in my digital cart, 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 – an action I’d never done before. For the first time since I turned 18, I started questioning: “Do I actually need this? Can I afford it?” Most of the time, the answer was negative.

If I opened Amazon, Depop or Zara and discovered items lingering in my basket, I’d clear them out and start fresh. By employing this method, I ceased buying things that I intuitively knew I would never use. I once wanted to purchasing three board games, but after a waiting period before going to the shop, I understood I never actually engage with tabletop games.

I also contemplated buying a disposable film camera for my first trip to the coast. After pausing I recalled I possessed a phone, similar to everybody else, that features a perfectly adequate camera, and therefore did not need to acquire a dedicated camera.

The Lasting Impact

It also means I am more discerning about the items I do buy, and I can finally review my financial records without feeling shame or discomfort.

Of course, there have been times I’ve slipped back into previous habits – it’s only natural. The key change is that I can recognise the signs sooner, particularly when I’m hastening into a transaction. I’ve realised ennui is a powerful trigger. It’s probably the primary driver of my reckless spending.

Consumer culture exploits this boredom and our desire for instant satisfaction. That’s why, in hindsight, forcing myself to halt before buying has felt strangely freeing. Gaining command over my urges and reaffirming that I don’t need to expend my hard-earned money on non-essential products feels as radical as it is straightforward.