In response to the uncertainties of the economy, more Americans are embracing a not-so-American way of life: minimalism.
It’s the golden rule of financial management: Save more; spend less. But it hasn’t always been the American way; the opposite mantra is what got our economy booming in the 1950s, and it’s what tanked it in the 2000s. A new breed of American consumer is popping up, and it’s reminiscent of a Depression-era way of looking at things. Behold, the minimalist.
CNBC has this story about Tammy Strobel, an upper middle class woman who had plenty of stuff—too much, she decided. After she and her husband came across a website that challenged people to scale back their possessions to 100 items or less, they decided to downsize.
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Now they own an apartment that boasts a spacious 400 square feet. Strobel runs her freelance web design and writing business out of her home, while her husband pursues his doctorate. Strobel has two pots for cooking, three pairs of shoes, and four plates, and her $24,000 salary takes care of the bills. They favor bikes over cars. They also said goodbye to their debt.
This new philosophy on consumption focuses more on experiences, and less on material goods.
One major finding is that spending money for an experience—concert tickets, French lessons, sushi-rolling classes, a hotel room in Monaco—produces longer-lasting satisfaction than spending money on plain old stuff.
“‘It’s better to go on a vacation than buy a new couch’ is basically the idea,” says psychology professor Elizabeth W. Dunn, who co-authored a scholarly paper titled, “If Money Doesn’t Make You Happy Then You Probably Aren’t Spending It Right.”
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The question “Do I really need this?” is a tough one for many Americans to answer—defining “need” these days can be tricky. Our culture, our society, and the American Dream tell us that more stuff is the key to contentedness.
But Strobel and other minimalists—with their strict “one item in, one item out” policy—argue that the opposite is true: A simple life, free from the tug of “the next big thing,” is much more conducive to contentment.
—Seth Putnam
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Vocalyze
Since being out of a job since ’08 what we “need” and what we “want” has really been put into perspective. I have realized many of the luxury items we use to indulge in are not missed. We having been making more with using less and enjoying the moments rather than things.
I saw this originally I think in the NYT somewhere, perhaps referencing the same folks, and it did make m think hard about what is really important and how we just get so conditioned to believe it is STUFF. Don’t get me wrong, I love nice stuff…but it is not an end in and of itself and I often wonder if a simpler existence wouldn’t be more fulfilling.
I live this – September 2008 my 17 year old son unexpectedly died – three months later while on leave – my employer of 10 years laid me off without warning or notice.
Fast forward two years later in the midst of my grief journey and continued sabatical I have come to learn in a very real way that life is about the people and not the things.
I live a very stripped down life by choice, and with the exception of the deep yearning I feel for my son I am at peace in a way I never was while chasing the American dream. These days my Amercian dream is much simpler, easier to define, and oddly enough enjoyable.
This is the one way that my wife and I differ greatly. I am a minimalist and my wife is confused by this…
I have one suit, one pair of dress shoes, half a dozen polo shirts, three pairs of slacks, a pair of docksiders, a couple pairs of shorts, some jeans for work and play and a drawer full of t-shirts that I received for volunteering at various events. That, in it’s entirety, is my wardrobe and it serves me well.
She has a closet and a half full of clothes, shoes and handbags, most of which she never uses unless she is out with her friends. Her friends all have the latest fashions and, if my wife is caught wearing “out of season” shoes, they will call her on it. She also has a palm pilot, a company blackberry, a personal cellphone, and an mp3 player. Each of these items has been ‘traded up’ on an annual basis just to keep them current.
I have a two year old Palm Treo that I purchased when my previous cell phone of five years rang it’s last ring. I used to be a gadget-head, but found that the next best thing always turned out to be next to the best thing within a few months and ended up living out it’s life as a paperweight or gathing dust in a drawer somewhere; quite a bit like the elliptical training that my wife just had to have two years ago and now sits in the corner and catches overflow from her closet.
When our daughter was born three months ago, I tried to stem the tide of things we “needed” for the baby. Crib? Check. Car seat? Check. Breast pump? Check. Stroller? Check. What else could be possibly need?
Baby swing? Portable baby swing? Pack-n-Play? Hold on a minute! Bascinet? Bouncy seat? Bumbo seat? High chair? Wait…she can’t even sit up yet. Play mat? Another playmat for the in-laws house? Another baby swing for the in-laws house? Another Pack-n-play for the in-laws house? Alright, stop right there! The whole idea of a Pack-n-Play is so we can pack it up and bring it with us! Bottle warmer? Bottle sterilizer? I thought we were going to boil her bottles in that big pot we bought. Bottle drying rack? Glider? Ottoman? Hey…what’s wrong with the rocking chair in the baby’s room? Diaper bag? Smaller diaper bag for short trips? Really big diaper bag for overnight trips? Really cool looking designer diaper bag?
Stop!! Do we really need six pacifiers?
Almost every horizontal surface in the house is now covered in baby stuff and our three season room where I used to have my morning coffee is now a store house for “stuff we’ll need later.” The wife has even picked out the outdoor play gym for the back yard that’s close to eight feet tall complete with straight slide, spiral slide, firehouse pole, two rooms, ladder, rock climbing hand holds, a bridge between the two rooms, and a climbing rope that our daughter won’t even use for at least three years. It might be a good investment, though. If I don’t take a second job soon, we might have to move into it.