Stop building your self-esteem through brand
Issue #175
Over the past month I’ve spent any loose bits of travel time I have listening to Less by Patrick Grant on audiobook. Honestly, it’s more a powerful political manifesto than “just” a book about buying fewer clothes - which I thought, at first glance, it was.
There are so many incredible things I’ve learnt from this that it’s hard to know where to begin. (It even crossed my mind to start a petition for Patrick Grant for MP - or better yet, PM.) I suppose it’s how people feel when they’ve just watched Cowspiracy or Seaspiracy: they unwaveringly won’t stop going about it and everywhere you’re confronted with the sort of things you can’t un-know once they’ve been made known to you.
One of the stats that has stayed with me from the book is that 70% of all of our clothing is made from plastic.
And once we see it, we can’t un-see it.
I see it in the fake leather bag she carries under her arm on the bus; in the shiny black coat she throws on the back of the chair; the peeling soles of his shoes on the platform; the sleek roll-top backpack on the cafe chair. It’s the hole in our tights we don’t think to sew up; the acrylic in the scarves we wrap around our necks; the plastic wrapping as workers stock the supermarket shelves.
I saw it in a friend recently. She seemed sad. She wanted to go shopping; the tabs for different clothing brands open on her phone. The trying-to-decide-whether-the-shoes were-cool-or-not turmoil; the lusting after new jeans and wondering if skinny jeans are really out-out or whether we ought to hold on to them in case their time comes back round again.
We exist in the space between dopamine hits. We choose cool over quality - time and time again.
And once we see it, we can’t un-see it.
Not long ago, I found myself on a yoga retreat looking between my cup of hot, bitter ceremonial cacao and my black trainers, thinking: can I drink cacao and wear Adidas? When did looking good become about choosing cool over quality, and style at the expense of substance? Does the Amazon-Prime-mentality mean that we no longer save for the £90 jumper but rather buy 3x£30 for our short-term hits? How many kettles or trays or pans have you bought already in your life? Do you buy expecting to still own it in a decade’s time?
We declutter excitedly; we carelessly throw knitwear in the laundry basket and simply sigh if our current favourite cardigan shrinks; in an instant, we commit it to the darkness of the domestic bins, or, if it’s lucky, the fabric recycling centre.
There was a long time where I bought carelessly. I relied on instantaneous hits of pleasure from shopping, eyes wide open to the knowledge that I was swinging dangerously between dopamine hits like monkey bars, afraid to fall and moving too fast to dangle. It was, I thought, what I needed to get through. I was aware that it wasn’t sustainable for happiness, but less aware at the time, that it wasn't sustainable for the economy or the planet either.
And once we see it, we can’t un-see it.
Grant encourages us not to “build our self-esteem through brand”. Tying our self-worth to brands and bargain buys is a fallible and flimsy way to move through the world. It’s the fake friend who promises us things she won’t deliver; the date who ghosts us without a backward glance or an ounce of shame.
If we tie ourselves to the moving targets of fast fashion and temporary trends, we will lose ourselves as if liquid: shapeless; disposable; pouring ourselves endlessly to fit one shape and then the next and the next.
When we shop in sales we’re acknowledging that companies are still profiting even on a 70% discount, laughing as we put our money towards low-quality goods made predominantly of plastic.
Like a bad dream, if we depend on brands to build our self-esteem and keep us "happy", we’ll keep falling down into the darkness - and our only hope is to wake up.
Mindful moment: Real purpose and real happiness come from care, creativity and community. And if these things matter to us, we have to start putting our money where our mouths are. See things as they are: the cheaply manufactured plastic covering your body is not serving you. Sustained pleasure is the joy of handcrafted goods, cherishing what you have and supporting the craftsmanship of local makers.
So, look around you and notice, because once you see it, you can’t un-see it. Once you recognise that buying things for short-term hits is all that it is, its power diminishes, and your power - to put your money towards your values - begins to grow.
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I'm Laura, a yoga teacher and NHS doctor. With this weekly newsletter I aim to help you incorporate mindful moments into your week. I want you to feel inspired, empowered and creative. I promise to always be authentic; to only include content that speaks to me and which, therefore, I hope will do the same for you.
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