I enjoy observing (and participating in) the modern culture of consumerism. I also enjoy writing about these observations – previously tackling the topic from the perspectives of sustainability and the culture surrounding it. Today, we will be contemplating whether we have subconsciously taken to ‘building our own brand’, by trying to neatly fit into designated aesthetics, whether these categories guide our choices more than they should and whether we are trying to buy our idea of a product, rather than the product itself.
Once upon a time (in Year 10), I decided I wanted to become a skaterboy. Not a skatergirl, mind, because those don’t really get spoken about, but a skaterboy, because I strived for that dark, cool, and edgy air of anyone who wears more chains/bracelets than there are sheep in Wales. For context, I am not an adrenaline junkie, but nevertheless I went to Kingston with my (adult) sister and picked out a ready-assembled skateboard. And boy did I feel cool casually dropping ‘ollie’and ‘grip tape’ into the conversation with the sales assistant (who, for the record, looked exactly like what I was going for). Now, I’m exposing myself here to illustrate how often we chase the associations with a certain thing more than the purpose of the thing itself. It was never about learning to ride a skateboard – it was about making skater friends at a concrete-clad skatepark, wearing ruffled Vans, and taking photos with the skateboard purely to create a persona that people would associate with the mysterious reputation preceding the aesthetic. Safe to say, as with most similar examples, that deck has been sitting in a cupboard for the past couple of years, untouched.
Next, let’s turn our attention to buying clothes. I’ve noticed that, on most occasions, the clothes I’ve chosen to click on online are not those that I purely like the look of, but those which are modelled in the way that I would like to look. Just notice how differently you treat the clothes listed on Vinted versus your typical Asos. We see a particular garment (say, a dress) online that seems to drape around the model’s figure in a specific way, and we buy it because that is how we expect it to look on us. It flatters the model, so surely it would flatter us? We set our expectations high, and we get disappointed when it ultimately looks different – because we are different people – the shoulders are off, or perhaps the colour doesn’t suit our eyes as it did in the picture. But the problem here is that, instead of accepting that this one design isn’t serving us in the way that we would like it to and scouring the hundreds of other options that will, we blame ourselves for not looking like the heavily posed model. Why?
It’s very easy to buy goods and services today. The process is mobile and fast – and it is this that leads to impulse buying. Gone are the days when you would have to wait weeks before going to the High Street and meticulously choosing something that you know will last you a long time before a replacement is due. A particularly potent example is hairstyles. I would run out of fingers (and toes) thinking of examples of seeing a fashion magazine cover where I saw a celebrity’s hair styled in a quirky, daring new way, and heavily considering going to the hairdresser the next day (see – the ease of the process doesn’t give you time to think) with that reference. In fact, the only reason I didn’t get an impulse buzzcut (yes.) last year was because my mother reminded me that I have a double crown and it would grow back silly. Why did I want one? Because I could have dyed strawberries onto it and hence elicited gasps of awe as I walked through the streets of Wimbledon, representing a very niche community. All the anecdotes in this article follow a similar pattern – we get inspired to try on new aesthetics to stand out, act on them and then get disappointed when the romanticised version doesn’t match up to reality.
And of course, companies are going to try and profit off this – the common tactic is to upsell by tapping into what I call the ‘all-or-nothing’ principle of aesthetics: you either have the skateboard, the beanies, the shoes, the rings, the Tony Hawk and Thrasher merch, or you’re not truly a skateboarder (to continue the skating thread; no, I’m not bitter). The other day I saw a Pinterest ad for “Tasty TV suppers”, which included, and I quote (as much as it’s possible to quote from a photo): a Rectangle Tray, Cute Spoons (whatever that means), Pasta Bowls in Spilt Milk (what a colour), Wine Glasses, Dipping Bowls, Taper Candles, Coasters, and rimmed napkins. Now, call me basic, but if I wanted a TV dinner, I’d need a bowl (in regular white), cutlery, and food. But of course, seeing an aesthetically laid out dinner in a shop lures you in, and that is how we walk away with woven placemats and dried bouquets that we never really needed.
Although we may not ever fully dissociate ourselves from this type of consumerism, at least we’ll be self-aware doing it…
