how to mitigate Black Friday nihilism
when you still want to buy things? part 1
It felt like a sign of the times: at Thanksgiving dinner we asked a guest what they were thinking of picking up on Black Friday only to learn that this person had already finished a full round of Black Friday shopping, complete with some post-sale blues.
This newsletter is the first of two parts about how to give meaningful gifts, something I think about all year but really surfaces at Christmahanukwanzakah (is this portmanteau a PC nightmare or a consonant delight? Both?) Before getting into the philosophy and techniques I use to find presents, however, I wanted to work through the weirdness of this particular week and share it with you all.
Black Friday has been bubbling past the confines of a single day for years now, first with the expanded week calendar of Black Friday / Small Business Saturday / Cyber Monday / Giving Tuesday and then Black Friday “previews” which turned into multi-week sales until the entire month of November became fair game for both hearing Christmas music in stores way too early and enduring email inbox inundation comparable only to election season.
cheery interlude to combat the soul-emptying encounter with consumerism
Finding a deal can seem like a moment of autonomy, a brief respite from unceasing inflation during which you feel blessed and competent. I can picture myself as an old woman regaling unsuspecting youth with tales of the time I found a pair of Stuart Weitzman heels at an estate sale for three bucks.
Though bargain hunting may be occasionally thrilling and generally useful for surviving capitalism, it requires a lot of energy and patience that seems inefficient at best and downright misused at worst. What if people could apply all the effort it takes to clip coupons and find promo codes and keep track of when to buy what elsewhere? And what if acquiring presents to distribute in the month of December could actually feel like a season of giving? That is, a joyous act of sharing?
Here is how I muddle through Black Friday:
It helps to start with Leena Norms’ take on why the phrase “no ethical consumption under capitalism” may have worn out its welcome:
It’s giving, ‘you won’t win, so why try?’ It’s giving, ‘if you can’t do everything, do nothing.’ It’s giving [saying] ‘no relationship is perfect’ when your partner is trying to point out something that might be genuinely troubling. It’s the f***boy phrase of the left, I swear […] The idea that there isn’t any ethical consumption under capitalism assumes that ‘ethical’ refers to something that is the complete, ideal situation and not what we traditionally understand as an ‘ethical dilemma,’ wherein you’re trying to find the kindest solution given the circumstances.
Remind yourself that some Black Friday discounts are fake and sales are intended to create pressure. Though it’s still marketing copy, I appreciate how the refurbished technology marketplace Back Market describes their pricing as ‘Cyber Monday all year,’ a way to limit waste generated by panic-buying.
Make a list of items you’re looking for and people to whom you’d like to give gifts before you go shopping. “Before you go shopping” means “before you click on that link.” (Easier said than done.)
After writing the list, begin with sites/stores with which you are familiar or that come recommended by trusted sources, such as…
Powell’s bookstore has a 20% off most everything sale for online purchases 11/27/2024 through 12/3/2024. I particularly like to use Powell’s to find used copies of books for recipients in the Western half of the US, to reduce shipping distances (and therefore carbon footprint, if you’re into that). If I can’t find a used book at Powell’s, I check biblio.com next, followed sometimes by Half Price Books (good prices but not famously a great place to work) or AbeBooks (a marketplace for independent vendors with a better selection of hard-to-find books but it’s owned by Amazon).
Now is the time for the best price of the year (30% off) on Terracycle boxes, which allow you to collect and all sorts of stuff that tends to be impossible or involved to recycle municipally (i.e. crinkly plastic, chip bags, candy wrappers, discarded masks, styrofoam cups, old ear plugs, candy wrappers, worn out shoe insoles, the list goes on…) and mail the box back to their factory. The all-in-one box is the easiest to use but also the most expensive; boxes for more precise categories of items tend to cost less. I try to only put things in my Terracycle boxes for which I cannot find any other outlet; I also only order boxes during this sale.*
As mentioned above, Backmarket sells technology from about the last decade for a steal (phones! tablets! smart watches! fancy headphones! the flush of a deal plus a repair practice—you know they got me good). For electronics of an older vintage, try shopgoodwill.com.
The point of the list-making is not to just document impending failure. It is normal to end up buying something you didn’t plan for, and we are not trying to generate shame or participate in budget culture. Rather, the list-making is a way to set some intentions so you don’t wander into sales willy-nilly.
Pause and do some math to figure out whether adding an extra item to get free shipping actually saves you money. You may also want to check whether you can get a similar price on your purchase in person, whether by going to the store in real life (novel, I know), ordering the item to a store for pick up, or looking for it locally on Craigslist/Facebook Marketplace/OfferUp/Buy Nothing/etc.
Ask yourself, at least once, if you could make the item or if you know someone who could. Even if you’re not crafty and have no desire to be or you’re buying something few of us wish to build, like a sewing machine, humor me and think through the question. Contemplating where something comes from and how it’s constructed can help you slow down and even increase your appreciation for whatever you’re about to acquire.
*In 2021 a chemical engineer sued Terracycle for false advertising—greenwashing—the programs it runs with big companies such as L’Oreal that only collect packaging from specific brands. I do not really believe in these programs except as consciousness raising tools and as sources of funding for Terracycle’s other projects because they involve continuing to use packaging that generates significant pollution in its production and is tremendously difficult to recycle, such as shampoo bottles made from virgin plastic. These programs can distract us from dismal design flaws.
Furthermore, for a 2022 Bloomberg article a reporter put trackers on three items he sent in to Terracycle. At least two of them seemed to end up in landfills.
I use the general-collection Terracycle boxes at home as a last resort for things I really cannot find a place for in my own re-use practice or in the community and as a receptacle for the fact that plastic-free life is an onerous standard to meet. I’d rather acknowledge that I use plastic sometimes and try to divert it somewhere than pretend like I’m going to never use it and accrue shame piles that I periodically dump in the trash anyway.
A neighborhood church board sentiment that I liked—the band Joseph puts it another way in this lyric: “You wouldn’t tell a flower it was made of sin / you know it’s good just for being.”
I’ve mentioned the fallacy of voting with your dollar previously (reference: Elizabeth Cline’s excellent essay, “The Twilight of the Ethical Consumer.”) However, it’s short-sighted if not fear-based behavior to respond to the impending presidential epoch by lining Jeff Bezos’ pockets. There must be a middle ground in there somewhere, no? It is possible to feel something other than cynicism about spending money and its ramifications. I still cherish, as I once wrote, “a belief in the power of small actions and their immeasurable cosmic ripples.” I wish you the fortitude to tend this belief, too, as you would a little fire.
Stayed tuned for part 2 and further immeasurable cosmic ripples.
In solidarity,
Abby