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One afternoon at my job two years ago, an notification hit on my phone: my salary had been deposited. It was a fair amount for a student, so I proceeded with my usual 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 useless weighted blanket that I never used.

A short while after, I went online again and purchased a blow dryer. I already owned one, but thought another wouldn't be a problem. Then I included LED strip lights and two pairs of shoes that didn't even fit me. This wasn't a new pattern. In reality, 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 doomscroll until it always ended in an unplanned shopping spree. My excuse was always: “It's only £5.” But £5 turned into £10, then £20, and continued.

I was never entirely certain about the reason. Maybe it was because I grew up in a poor family, where we’d go months without buying new outfits or anything to brighten up the home. So any time I had extra money, there was always a hidden yearning for new and thrilling things. Or maybe, and definitely more likely, I was just bad with money and succumbed easily to capitalism’s demands.

The Game-Changing Strategy

Eventually, I decided to experiment with a novel idea. Before acquiring anything, I’d place it in my digital cart, delay for 24 hours, then decide whether to check out. The best part of this technique was that it provided me time to reflect – an action I’d never done before. For the first occasion since I turned 18, I began asking myself: “Do I actually require this? Is it within my budget?” Most of the time, the answer was no.

If I opened Amazon, Depop or Zara and discovered products sitting in my basket, I’d clear them out and begin anew. Using this system, I stopped 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 going to the store, I realised I never actually engage with board games.

I also wanted to buying a disposable film camera for my first trip to Croatia. After waiting I recalled I had a smartphone, like everybody else, that features a perfectly adequate lens, and thus did not need to buy a dedicated camera.

The Lasting Impact

It also signifies I am more selective about the things I do buy, and I can finally look at my bank statements devoid of experiencing guilt or embarrassment.

Naturally, there have been times I’ve relapsed into old habits – it's human nature. The key change is that I can recognise the warning signs sooner, particularly when I’m rushing into a purchase. I’ve come to understand ennui is a strong trigger. It’s probably the primary driver of my reckless expenditure.

Consumer culture exploits this boredom and our need for immediate satisfaction. That’s the reason, in hindsight, compelling myself to halt before buying has felt strangely liberating. To be able to have control over my impulses and reaffirming that I don’t need to spend my hard-earned money on unnecessary products feels as revolutionary as it is straightforward.