Unnecessary Expenditures
I buy weird things on the Internet when I’m unhappy.
There is a direct correlation between my online shopping habits and my level of happiness. When I’m feeling down, or bored, I browse online stores. When I’m feeling all right about my life, shopping becomes irrelevant. I forget about all the items I want to buy, about all the vintage clothing and home furnishings just sitting on Etsy and eBay. I forget about my Amazon wishlist. It’s almost like I’m straddling two worlds. In one, material items don’t exist. In the other, material items are a constant need, and I can’t seem to fulfill a quota of things to covet and maybe one day buy.
A metal lamp with a base made from an old iron. That is an item I bought on Etsy a couple of years ago. I had just moved into a new apartment in a city where I knew only a handful of acquaintances. I browsed design blogs and online stores because I thought that decorating my new empty home would help quell my loneliness. Somehow the Internet convinced me that I needed an industrial-style desk lamp. With an exposed bulb. Once I received the package in the mail, I didn’t know why I purchased the lamp. Yes, I needed a desk lamp. But I didn’t need one with a very heavy iron base. Or one without a shade. For the next two years, I worked next to a lamp dimly lit by an Edison bulb. It felt like I was working in an artist’s dark basement. I suppose I got what I paid for. Eventually, I grew fond of the lamp, but I made a decision to cut myself off from Etsy and other online suppliers of vintage (and vintage-looking) wares when I moved again.
A few years ago, after a particularly bad breakup, I purchased a red and white striped sleeveless blouse with a high collar from an online vintage store. The shirt was shorter than expected — it was basically a long crop top. There was no clear season in which to wear this shirt. The collar was suffocating on warm days; the length was impractical for cold days. I wore it as part of a Halloween costume once (as it turns out, it was a perfect Waldo shirt). The rest of the time, it remained in the back of my closet. I tried selling the shirt to a thrift store on my last move. They rejected it. During the same year, after enduring a stressful job, I purchased a 1940s velvet hat. Since I didn’t attend tea parties or a house of worship, there was no clear reason for me to own this hat. Occasionally, I tried it on. I liked it. I just had no idea why I purchased it.
I have several more stories like these. Sometimes, the thrill of simply browsing online stores is enough. Other times, I end up with a weird item in my home. All of these purchases occur during periods of stress, anxiety, and unhappiness. If I ever want to remind myself of my habits, and attempt to change them, there’s a paper trail. I can log in to my account on any online retailer and receive a detailed outline on how I shopped in any given month or year.
Of course, I couldn’t buy things without money. I’ve mainly worked in media, and I have never received a large salary. But sometimes I have a little extra money in my bank account, and when combined with anxiety or stress, it leads to a desire to shop. When I have no extra money, or hardly any money at all, shopping becomes a painful reminder of my situation. I might browse stores and add items to wish lists, but I mostly avoid it.
The other day, I began shopping online for eyeglasses. I already own two pairs, but here I was, browsing different frames. I reminded myself that I didn’t need another pair, and I closed all my open shopping tabs. This is how it begins. I decide on an object I don’t need, or an impractical version of an object I need (see the iron base lamp), or a duplicate version of an item I already own. I make that item the end goal, and shopping becomes the journey to get there. So how do I stop this pattern? When I’m feeling anxious or vulnerable (default feelings in 2017), I sign out of websites that know what items I want. I think about why I really want those items.
Usually, I’m just looking for a little relief. Online shopping offers a temporary high. Sometimes I allow myself a little time to casually browse through rows of items because it feels good. It’s a distraction from any problems in my personal life, and in the world. Then I return to reality.
This story is part of The Billfold’s I Want It Now series.
