The lives we try to buy - or think we can: an all-time high of consumerism in this economy

“We buy things we don’t need with money we don’t have to impress people we don’t like.”

I keep coming back to this line from this movie that has a rule mandating us not to talk about it (If you know, you know). I remember hearing it a very long time ago, but lately it feels more relevant than ever.

It becomes even more confusing when I put it next to another popular saying: “It’s better to regret buying something than regret not buying it.” I’ve heard people use that phrase to justify everything from pricey sneakers to ridiculously expensive diner experiences to midnight impulse purchases. Sometimes I even use it on myself. But when I slow down, I realize those two beliefs push me in opposite directions, and I end up stuck in the middle, trying to figure out whether I want the thrill of buying something or the safety of avoiding regret.

Putting aside whether I have the money or not, which dynamically differs for everyone depending on their lifestyle. I mean, if you have family to feed, or if you're a student, or in my case, a single man with an average lifestyle. For me, the cycle usually starts with a spark — a product video, a friend showing something cool, a marketplace notification that pops up at the wrong time but somehow feels right. The moment I see something I want, my mind starts building tiny stories about how this new item might make my days smoother, my style sharper, or my life a little more put-together. I won’t pretend I’m immune to the rush; that little dopamine hit is real, at least in my experience.

But then comes the part that feels almost engineered. Nowadays, it’s unbelievably easy to buy things. I personally feel like the entire system is designed to nudge me into spending. Marketplace platforms remind me that something is on sale, even when I wasn’t looking for anything. Payment methods make it possible to buy with one tap, whether in full, in installments, or through some promo that makes the purchase feel like a “smart decision.” When I step back, my opinion is that the convenience is great, but the pressure is constant, almost like we’re conditioned to keep consuming without noticing how often we do it.

Once the package arrives, I usually get that honeymoon phase — opening the box, testing the item, convincing myself it was “a good call.” But sometimes the excitement cools faster than I expect. That’s when I feel the early signs of post-purchase regret creeping in. It’s rarely dramatic. It’s just a quiet question in my head: “Did I really need this?” And honestly, sometimes I don’t know the answer.

Meanwhile, there's another layer I hesitate to admit but can’t ignore: social perception. I personally feel like society still judges us heavily based on the things we own. Nice clothes, clean shoes, the right phone, a decent ride — these things can affect how others see us, even when we don’t intend them to. In my opinion, it’s ironic that something as simple as what we wear or drive can influence how credible, dependable, or successful we appear. I don’t think it’s fair, but I can’t deny that the effect exists, at least in the environments I’ve experienced.

This creates another twist in the paradox: sometimes I buy things not because I want them, but because I don’t want to “look wrong.” It becomes less about personal satisfaction and more about fitting into a standard that I didn’t ask for but still feel pushed to follow. And yes, it can feel exhausting.

Still, I try not to judge myself too harshly. From my point of view, buying things isn’t the problem; the problem is when I buy something to fill a feeling rather than a need. I’ve noticed that when I purchase something that truly matches my lifestyle, I almost never regret it. But when I buy out of boredom, insecurity, or the desire to momentarily escape stress, regret becomes much more likely.

One small trick that helps me sometimes is delaying the purchase for a day or two, or even weeks. I treat my cart like a waiting room. If I come back later and still feel the same desire, then maybe the item genuinely has value for me. If not, I close the tab and feel strangely relieved. This isn’t a universal method; it’s just something that works for me personally.

I’ve also realized that regret doesn’t always mean I made a bad choice. Sometimes it’s just a signal that I bought something during the wrong emotional moment. Other times, it’s a sign that my expectations were unrealistic. And occasionally, it reminds me that I was trying to become a slightly different version of myself through a purchase — a version I’m not even sure I truly want to be.

I wonder whether the things I buy shape my life, or if they simply reveal the person I’m trying to become. Either way, I think we all just want to find what's most comfortable for us. There is nothing wrong with that, isn't it?