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One day at work two years ago, an alert popped up on my mobile device: my salary had been deposited. It was a fair amount for a someone still at university, so I did my usual payday ritual: I opened every retail application on my phone. From Amazon to Zara, the list was endless. In under 60 minutes, I had spent £90 on clothes, home decor and a totally useless weighted blanket that I never used.

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

Whenever I felt stressed, exhausted or uninterested, I would doomscroll until it always ended in an unplanned shopping spree. My justification was constantly: “It's only £5.” But £5 became £10, then £20, and continued.

I was never completely certain about the reason. Maybe it was because my upbringing in a poor family, where we’d experience months without buying new outfits or anything to brighten up the home. So any moment I had extra money, there was always a hidden desire for new and thrilling things. Or possibly, and almost certainly, I was just financially irresponsible and succumbed readily to capitalism’s consumerism.

The Game-Changing Strategy

In the end, I decided to try a novel idea. Prior to acquiring anything, I’d put it in my digital cart, delay for 24 hours, then make a choice on whether to check out. The greatest advantage of this technique was that it provided me time to think – something I’d never done before. For the first occasion since I turned 18, I started asking myself: “Do I truly require this? Can I afford it?” Most of the time, the response was no.

If I accessed my shopping apps and found items sitting in my basket, I’d clear them out and start fresh. By employing this method, I ceased acquiring things that I knew deep down I would never use. I once considered purchasing a trio of games, but after a waiting period before visiting the store, I understood I never actually engage with board games.

I also wanted to buying a disposable film camera for my first holiday to the coast. After pausing I recalled I possessed a smartphone, similar to most people, that features a perfectly adequate camera, and thus had no requirement to buy a dedicated device.

The Enduring Benefits

It also signifies I am more discerning about the items I do purchase, and I can finally look at my financial records devoid of experiencing shame or discomfort.

Naturally, there have been occasions I’ve relapsed into old patterns – it’s only natural. The key change is that I can identify the signs early, especially when I’m rushing into a purchase. I’ve realised ennui is a powerful trigger. It’s probably the biggest motivator of my impulsive expenditure.

Consumer culture exploits this boredom and our desire for immediate satisfaction. That’s the reason, looking back, forcing myself to pause before buying has felt unexpectedly liberating. To be able to have command over my impulses and reaffirming that I don’t need to spend my hard-earned money on non-essential products feels as revolutionary as it is simple.