The Materialist — Why do We Have so Much Stuff? Pt. 1 of 3
Materialism is a Cultural Demon
First world culture embraces collecting. Having “stuff” is a comfort for a lot of people. It is not a devious plot to harm others. It is how many of us were raised. More stuff equals happiness. The opposite is true.
More things create stress. Do I have better/more/high valued widgets than anyone else? How will I keep them pristine? What if one is damaged? All the worries outshine the pleasure of possession. The ultimate high from collecting is the acquisition. From then on, it is a burden. Yet we still do it. Collecting can be a joy, it is a bond between family and friends who share the same interests. Then where is the middle ground? This essay in three parts explores materialism versus practicality.
When I was about 12 years old, I started collecting, comic books and sports cards, at 16 I added vinyl albums. At the peak, I had over 1,000 records and 500+ comic books. Now, I have less than 30 comic books and less than 75 records. All my sports cards (well over 10,000) I sold 15 years ago. It is a liberating feeling to not have all the extraneous stuff to tote from home to home. The long white boxes stacked was about the same as bricks. Other than moving from one location to another, there was little use for them. Once I decided to rid myself of these various collections (baseball, football, basketball, non-sports cards, superheroes and odd ball comics), it felt good to have less. It was a cleanse, emotionally and physically.
Certainly, it is more practical to have a record collection that is in play, versus the cultish preservation of something meant for use, treating as a delicate bauble. Record Store Day has brilliantly captured the essence of the collector’s mindset. The periodic events also in part has resurrected vinyl album sales.
A limited release, colored vinyl, picture discs, live concerts and so on represent the keen marketer’s target. The marketing exec is Luke Skywalker and you are the target, a small exhaust port on the Death Star. At some point, the collection will get too unwieldy and vulnerable. A disclaimer, I still purchase records, some limited editions, however when I do, consciously I must give up one or more records in my collection, it is my personal rule as a former zealous collector.
Records are meant to be played. Comics are meant to be read. Not hermitically sealed in a case. That is my thought process. The card collecting addiction was the first to go, simply because the joy of opening a packet and finding my favorite players morphed into a collector/investor game. It was a bonus when a card was also of value in the marketplace.
I would visit local card shops and learn the new series was sold out, some middle-aged dude bought all their stock, it happened regularly. The person with the biggest discretionary bank account always won. It took the fun out of it. That was the beginning of the end for me.
It also made the new owner feel good to have these material things. It matters to them. The last few years I have had numerous conversations with friends and acquaintances about the cultural attraction to having stuff. Lots of it.
My perspective achieved a mature point of view while pursuing a new hobby, digging at estate sales for albums and books. I love to read. I love listening to music. At the same time, I don’t have the urge to cling to these items. The logic I found was simple, having far more records than I could reasonably listen to didn’t appeal to me anymore. I now found pleasure in the hunt.
The cluttered homes I saw for what there are, a bunch of things, with little value to me. Reality, I am dumb to the value of most collectables. On the other hand, records and books, I have an insider view. Picking through shelves and record collections is a new hobby. And a new income stream.
Walking through some of the homes, the volumes of things at times can be overwhelming. Sometimes I feel I am in an episode of a hoarder television show. I still enjoy the thrill of finding a record I used to have when I was 17, long ago traded in at a second-hand record store. More thrilling is selling what I pick at the sales on an e-commerce platform. Sometimes the buyer is savvier than I am, making profit as well, touché.
The result, it satisfies my desire to have a hobby, without accruing a lot of things. It is a positive feeling when I pick an album or book for $2 and re-sell it for $50. It doesn’t happen often. It is enough to keep me going. An important by-product, purchasing a used record or book does not contribute to new supply creation. It is a form of recycling, and reuse. Furthermore, when I am ready to “dispose” of the item, I can sell it, donate it, or gift it to someone who will appreciate it.
How does this relate? The slow evolving point of view resulted in going through the thought process, I asked myself:
Why are we compelled to have so much stuff?
Particularly when the global village is shrinking, and the disparity between the wealthy and the poor continues to widen.
It is a loaded question. There is no one all-consuming answer.
The variety of things one may collect ranges from beads to Bugatti’s. From the trinket worth less than a penny to items more expensive than a modest suburban home.
Collecting is not wrong. It is pastime a lot of people find satisfaction. It increases our endorphins when we view the collections we have accrued. It reminds me of the book, “High Fidelity” by Nick Hornby. He expertly describes the emotions of being a record collector.
I see art-styled indie magazines highlighting someone with a sneaker collection, in the 1,000s of pairs of shoes. Far more than one could possibly wear. It is understood it is a hot collector “genre”. It’s about the investment. It is also a status symbol. Putting in the work, reading the blogs, online communities, social media celebrities, and so on. Most of us desire to be expert at something. Shoes is a popular topic.
The point of the essay is not to shame a collector, simply to consider, deeply the impact having all the material items.
What is the cost to maintain these collections? What if they are damaged, stolen, or lost?
I went through the psychological journey. I understood the emotions tied to collections. What if we had our favorite 100 pairs of sneakers? The best of the best. Then, a few years later, refine, the elite, the best 20 pairs. Consider it a long-term tournament. Who doesn’t love bracketology?
I discovered the liberating emotion of being practical. Sort of. Not as true as one who lives a spartan lifestyle. Coming from where I was, it is real progress. I admire those who actively work to live with less. It is also a skill, sifting through all the “convenience” products to purchase the most durable without compromising the potential for waste. Such as single use products.
Make a game out of the process. It is far better than managing the stress level keeping a large collection pristine. The expense keeping up collections can be a financial drain. Storage, closets, cases, displays and so on.
Part 2 explores making a conscious choice to downsize, being practical