I don’t know about you, but my Amazon cart is constantly filled with items that are ideally going to make my life a whole lot better. A bra that will make me feel good about my body; a set of pens that will invariably turn me into the most organized person around; a water bottle that will keep me perfectly hydrated in perpetuity. The dopamine boost that I get when new packages arrive at my door comes not only from the excitement of having new things, but also from the anticipation of these new things totally changing everything I don’t like about my life.
As we entered 2025, I heard the age-old mantra “new year, new me” uttered all around. But what I’m realizing is that this mantra has an unspoken counterpart: “new stuff, new me.” Whether it’s stationary supplies, tools for organization, a new wardrobe, or some kind of subscription, capitalism has managed to tie to every resolution a barrier, which can only be passed by forking over some cash. And while there’s nothing inherently wrong with spending money to improve your life, I think that many of us, myself included, tend to fall into this trap.
One goal that I have had consistently throughout my life, ever since I became aware of the concept, has been to live a more sustainable lifestyle. Ever since I learned about pollution and climate change, I’ve felt a sense of responsibility to contribute to making our planet better, not worse. I’ve done better with this goal at some times in my life than others, but one roadblock that I currently find myself at has to do with the way I present myself. I think that this idea that our stuff can save us from ourselves has created a society where we build our sense of self around our things.
If you’ve been on TikTok or Instagram in the past couple years- or ever, really- you’ve probably witnessed the concept of an ‘’aesthetic”- a curated set of things that make up an idealized persona. For example, the “clean girl” aesthetic was one that centered basic, neutral clothing, natural-looking makeup, and neat, slicked-back hairstyles. The “”clean girl” goes to the gym often, and she has it all together. She’s perfect, essentially, without a hint of mess or clutter or chaos anywhere near her. This is just one example, as there are many more out there, but the core of these aesthetics is actually in the things you have- for instance, the clean girl has to have cute matching workout sets, just as the sanrio girl must own all things Hello Kitty, or else she’s not really a sanrio girl, is she?
Sometimes, either online or in my real life, I come across a girl who has what I see as perfect style. I admire it, and I want to imitate her look. But instead of taking note of the things I liked about it and building up my wardrobe over time, I find myself reaching for fast fashion to transform myself. I want to be seen as the earthy girl, or the alt girl, rather than just being seen as myself. I find myself subconsciously wanting to be known for the stuff I have rather than the things I do. And try as I might to avoid it, overconsumption is like a gravitational force that pulls me back in. I’d probably like myself if I just got some new clothes, or some new containers. Then I’d be the person I want to be.
I recently picked up the book Algospeak by Adam Aleksic, who I’d been following on social media for quite some time as @etymologynerd. In chapter 8, he discusses microlabels, like the -core aesthetics, and how they are tools used by corporations to market to us. They appeal to us because they make us feel like we belong to a group of people with the same niche interest as us, and they give this false sense of a defined identity. “The more ways you can be categorized using specific, newly created microlabels, the more ways you can be commodified,” he writes on page 181. One interesting example is the transformation of the word “preppy.” When I was growing up, preppy referred to the kind of clothes you might find rich kids wearing in prep schools- polos, khakis, plaid skirts, and the like. But at some point, the word began to be used to refer to brightly colored, often pink, girly clothes that many teenage girls enjoy. Companies have caught onto this and started to advertise their “preppy” clothes to this demographic. “A 2021 landing page for TikTok’s business platform openly claims that ‘subcultures are the new demographics,’ and lays out advice for how to best capitalize on aesthetics like cottagecore and dark academia.” (170) The existence of Tiktok shop is the absolute epitome of these tactics.
Basically, these companies know that people, especially young people, are clamoring for a sense of identity, and finding it in these microlabels, and they know exactly how to profit off of it. All the while, we’re penning ourselves in with more and more specific language and spending more and more of our money to fit into these labels. I don’t know what the solution is, but I think the first step is being aware of it and working to challenge it. Part of that is establishing a sense of self that is removed from things. Another part is finding things that we enjoy in places other than fast fashion giants. Not only is it better for the planet, it’s much better for our wallets and our peace of mind in the long run.
As you can see, I started writing this post towards the beginning of this year, and it ended up getting put to the side for months. It’s now October, and as we end out this year and begin another, I’m hoping to continue to work towards meaningful and sustainable change in my life rather than just buying every other cute thing that comes across my screen. I hope that you are able to do the same.