Apodaca: To buy or not to buy — a question worth asking

About two years ago I embarked on a purge of my Newport Beach house in anticipation of some upcoming remodeling projects. Out went box upon box of old stuff, and though some of the items were attached to warm memories, I was satisfied with the feeling of lightness that I gained.

Now a friend is about to start a remodel, and she, too, is engaged in a heavy household cleanse. But she is adding an important element that I neglected.

She is on a self-imposed shopping moratorium as part of a plan to keep the clutter under control. No shoes. No purses. No clothes. For all of 2024, she has vowed, she will buy personal items only out of need, not desire.

“I feel so good looking the other way and not buying anything anymore,” she said.

After hearing this, I took a quick inventory and realized that most of the closets and drawers in my house were still — or again — bulging. And I couldn’t escape a mild sense of shame that I had failed to break a bad pattern.

This tug of war between the accumulation of material goods and the need to rid ourselves of outdated or superfluous items is typically characterized as a first-world — and most particularly American — problem, one that provokes worries and recriminations over our tendencies toward overindulgence. The impulse to load up on unnecessary goods — what economists politely refer to as our “discretionary spending” — runs strong in our culture, lending to an unflattering depiction of Americans as thoughtless, materialistic bores.

The recent news stories about the Stanley cup craze provide a perfect example of this baffling consumer profligacy. No, this isn’t about the professional hockey trophy — I’m referring to the news that after more than a century as a reliably sturdy staple of campsites, the reusable Stanley beverage container suddenly and inexplicably became the accessory rage of the 2023 holiday season.

Numerous press reports told of shoppers standing in lines to buy the thermoses, and racing to snag new Stanley color drops. Expectations for Valentine’s Day Stanley gifts are through the roof. Company revenues have grown dramatically.

Of course, we’ve seen such product bonanzas many times before, and history teaches us that these episodes rarely endure for long. I wouldn’t be surprised if used Stanleys start turning up en masse at thrift stores in the not-too-distant future. What’s next — muck boot mania?

As nutty as this buy-and-discard cycle appears, however, a closer examination reveals a more complicated picture.

The American economy is not only the largest on earth, but it is overwhelmingly driven by consumer spending. The fact that we are now enjoying a surprisingly strong economy — it expanded by 2.5% in 2023, defying expectations that a recession was imminent — is due primarily to robust personal consumption expenditures. Economists see signals that the growth will continue this year.

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As with most economic trends, however, there are pluses and minuses. That consumer spending is driven largely by strong employment and wage growth. Good. The flip side is it can also fuel inflation, deflate savings and add to debt. Not good.

There are other facets of this complex picture. Our cups might runneth over from all those high-speed blenders and fancy coffee makers, but manufacturing them takes a toll on the environment. Worse still, many discarded items end up in our ever-growing landfills.

A better outcome is when they can be given a second life through such organizations as Goodwill of Orange County, which takes in an average of about 57 million pounds of castoffs annually, according to Chief Operating Officer Corrine Allen.

The usual pattern of donations was disrupted in recent years. In 2020, the first year of the pandemic, they plunged by about 25 percent, but then soared in the following two years due to pent-up closet cleaning. In 2023, the donation level settled back into its normal, pre-pandemic pace.

Clothing invariably accounts for the bulk of donated items; some pieces even turn up with the original sales tags still affixed. But all manner of items get dropped off. Goodwill staffers have been known to discover expensive luxury designer goods. A valuable Picasso engraving once landed in the donation pile.

The weirdest item? A human skull, which — after local police and a CSI team showed up to investigate — turned out to be a hand-me-down from a medical school. That was an interesting take on the “reduce, reuse, recycle” regimen that we are encouraged to follow.

The upshot of all this is that we could all — and by referring to “all” I’m really addressing myself — do a better, more thoughtful job of monitoring and reining in spending on nonessential goods. When we do feel tempted to buy something, we should think long and hard about its value, utility and what kind of afterlife it might one day have.

Since my friend gave me pause to consider, I have been studiously avoiding all the messages showing up in my inbox telling me that I “simply need this” or “this is so you” or “we noticed you looking at this.” For a little while, at least, I’ll try not to look.

Let’s see how long it lasts. At some point, the economy might need me.