We must get back into the shops and start buying stuff, says VANESSA FELTZ
REMEMBER when that Ikea boss said we'd "reached peak stuff"? Did you scratch your head, perplexed, or yell "hear, hear" in agreement?
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Maybe you contemplated your seven pairs of boots, 15 watches, 11 vases, four bath mats, 20 cushions, wardrobes bursting with outfits, and attic stuffed with, er, stuff - and decided enough has become too much? Perhaps you even declared a present amnesty last Christmas? Frankly, you couldn't stand the thought of shelling out for one more scented candle and felt clinically incapable of smiling when presented with a bath salts and body lotion gift combo.
Somehow no one you know is actually filthy stinking rich, yet every one of your nearest and dearest has a dazzling amplitude of everything and can't imagine a single material item, bar a custom-designed Aston Martin, that would bring them the remotest flicker of joy.
Shopping has hit a five-year low. We can't be bothered to add to our already surplus stock of stuff. We feel a tad guilty about acquiring more clothes to hurl into landfill or add to the man-made fibre mountain. We have lost the lust for what Wordsworth called "getting and spending", and are doing our level best to live in the moment, be a bit mindful and enjoy the free and healthful delights of a bracing walk, a scintillating talk and a sing-song around the old piano.
If we're slightly on the vintage side, though, we're in shock. Most of us can remember the days of "make do and mend", the time it took to save up for something, the sitting on orange boxes till we could afford a sofa, the aching for a dress from Chelsea Girl or a blow-dry courtesy of Vidal Sassoon.We were frustrated consumers.
We wanted everything because we didn't have much of anything. Even our dreams were packed with dresses, curtains and cars we desperately wanted. So we wonder how, in our own relatively short lifetime, have we gone from coveting so much to wanting nothing?
Boris Johnson once brought me a jar of his homemade quince chutney for Christmas. I was delighted. But Boris quickly added an element of anxiety. "What if," said the former Foreign Secretary, "I give all my chums a jar of chutney and they reciprocate with a jar of homemade jam? Don't you see the peril? If we all foist homemade gifts on one another, where does that leave the economy? We owe it to our consumer society to buy each other stuff."
So here's the question: if we've fallen out of love with consumerism what happens next?