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One afternoon at my job a couple of years back, an notification hit on my phone: my salary had come through. It was a decent sum for a someone still at university, so I did my what I always did payday ritual: I opened every single retail application on my device. From Amazon to Zara, you name it. In under 60 minutes, I had parted with £90 on clothes, home decor and a totally unused weighted blanket that never touched.

A short while after, I returned to the internet and bought a blow dryer. I already had one, but thought an extra one couldn't hurt. Then I added light strips and two pairs of shoes that didn't even fit me. This wasn’t new behaviour. In fact, I’d been infamous for it ever since I could afford to buy my own things.

Whenever I felt stressed, tired or bored, I would mindlessly scroll until it always ended in an impulsive shopping binge. My excuse was always: “Oh well, it’s just £5.” But £5 became £10, then £20, and continued.

I was never entirely sure why I did this. Maybe it was because my upbringing in a low-income family, where we’d experience months without buying new outfits or anything to decorate the house. So any moment I had extra money, there was always a hidden yearning 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

Eventually, I decided to experiment with something new. Before acquiring any item, I’d put it in my digital cart, delay for 24 hours, then make a choice on whether to finalize the purchase. The best part of this technique was that it provided me time to reflect – an action I’d never taken. For the first time since I turned 18, I began questioning: “Do I truly require this? Is it within my budget?” More often than not, the response was no.

If I accessed my shopping apps and discovered products sitting in my basket, I’d remove them and start fresh. Using this method, I ceased buying things that I knew deep down I would never use. I once wanted to purchasing a trio of games, but after a waiting period before going to the store, I understood I never actually engage with board games.

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

The Lasting Impact

It also means I am more discerning about the items I do purchase, and I can finally look at my bank statements devoid of experiencing guilt or embarrassment.

Of course, there have been occasions I’ve relapsed into previous habits – it’s only natural. The difference now is that I can identify the warning signs sooner, particularly when I’m hastening into a purchase. I’ve realised boredom is a powerful catalyst. It’s probably the biggest motivator of my impulsive spending.

Consumer culture exploits this idleness and our desire for instant gratification. That’s why, in hindsight, compelling myself to pause before buying has felt strangely liberating. To be able to have command over my urges and remind myself that I don’t need to expend my diligently earned money on non-essential goods feels as radical as it is straightforward.