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One day at work two years ago, an alert popped up on my mobile device: my paycheck had come through. It was a decent sum for a student, so I proceeded with my what I always did payday ritual: I launched every retail application on my phone. From Amazon to Zara, the list was endless. In under 60 minutes, I had parted with £90 on apparel, home decor and a completely useless weighted blanket that never touched.

A short while after, I went online again and bought a hairdryer. I already owned one, but thought an extra one wouldn't be a problem. Then I added LED strip lights and two shoes that weren’t even my size. This wasn’t new behaviour. In reality, I’d been infamous for it ever since I could afford to buy my own things.

Whenever I felt stressed, tired or uninterested, I would mindlessly scroll until it always ended in an unplanned shopping binge. My justification was always: “It's only £5.” But £5 turned into £10, then £20, and continued.

I was never entirely sure why I did this. Maybe it was because I grew up in a low-income family, where we’d experience months without buying new clothes or anything to brighten up the home. So any time I had extra money, there was always a subconscious yearning for new and thrilling things. Or possibly, and definitely more likely, I was just financially irresponsible and succumbed readily to capitalism’s consumerism.

A Revolutionary Approach

In the end, I opted to try something new. Before acquiring anything, I’d place it in my digital cart, wait 24 hours, then make a choice on whether to check out. The best part of this technique was that it provided me time to think – something I’d never done before. For the first occasion since I turned 18, I began asking myself: “Do I actually require this? Is it within my budget?” Most of the time, the response was negative.

If I accessed my shopping apps and found items sitting in my cart, I’d clear them out and begin anew. Using this method, I stopped buying things that I knew deep down I would never use. I once wanted to buy a trio of games, but after a waiting period before visiting the store, I understood I never actually play board games.

I also contemplated buying a single-use camera for my first holiday to Croatia. After pausing I remembered I possessed a phone, like most people, that has a perfectly adequate lens, and therefore did not need to buy a dedicated camera.

The Lasting Impact

It additionally signifies I am more selective about the things I do buy, and I can at last review my bank statements without experiencing shame or discomfort.

Naturally, there have been times I’ve relapsed into previous patterns – it’s only natural. The difference now is that I can identify the warning signs early, particularly when I’m rushing into a purchase. I’ve realised ennui is a powerful catalyst. It’s probably the primary driver of my impulsive expenditure.

Modern culture exploits this idleness and our need for instant satisfaction. That’s why, looking back, forcing myself to pause before buying has felt unexpectedly liberating. Gaining control over my impulses and remind myself that I don’t need to expend my hard-earned money on non-essential goods feels as radical as it is simple.