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One afternoon at my job two years ago, an alert popped up on my phone: my paycheck had come through. It was a decent sum for a someone still at university, so I proceeded with my usual when payday arrived: I launched every single retail application on my device. From Amazon to Zara, the list was endless. In under 60 minutes, I had spent £90 on clothes, home decor and a totally unused heavy blanket that I never used.

A few days later, I returned to the internet and bought a hairdryer. I already owned one, but reasoned an extra one wouldn't be a problem. Then I added 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 stressed, exhausted or bored, I would mindlessly scroll until it always culminated in an impulsive shopping spree. My excuse was constantly: “Oh well, it’s just £5.” But £5 became £10, then £20, and so on.

I was never completely certain about the reason. Maybe it was due to I grew up in a low-income family, where we’d experience months without buying new clothes or anything to decorate the home. So any moment I had some disposable income, there was always a subconscious desire for new and exciting things. Or possibly, and definitely more likely, I was just bad with money and succumbed easily to capitalism’s consumerism.

A Revolutionary Approach

In the end, I decided to experiment with something new. Prior to buying any item, I’d place it in my digital cart, delay for 24 hours, then make a choice on whether to check out. The best part of this method was that it gave me time to reflect – something I’d never done before. For the first occasion since I turned 18, I began asking myself: “Do I actually require this? Can I afford it?” Most of the time, the answer was no.

If I opened my shopping apps and discovered products lingering in my basket, I’d remove them and begin anew. Using this system, I stopped acquiring things that I knew deep down I would never utilize. I once wanted to purchasing a trio of games, but after waiting before visiting the shop, I understood I never actually play board games.

I also wanted to buying a disposable film camera for my first trip to the coast. After pausing I remembered I possessed a smartphone, similar to everybody else, that features a perfectly good lens, and thus had no requirement to buy a separate device.

The Enduring Benefits

It also signifies I am more selective about the items I do purchase, and I can at last look at my bank statements devoid of feeling shame or discomfort.

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

Consumer culture preys on this idleness and our desire for immediate satisfaction. That’s the reason, in hindsight, compelling myself to pause before purchasing has felt strangely freeing. To be able to have command over my impulses and remind myself that I don't have to expend my diligently earned money on non-essential goods feels as revolutionary as it is straightforward.