It seems that a common misconception about the practice of minimalism is that it comes about as a result of poverty. I look around myself, see I'm skint about 80% of the time... that should make me a minimalist, right?
It's an appealing thought. Suddenly, you belong to a movement, got an ethos behind you. Much nicer than the starker, yet truer realization that you're just poor. That's kinda like explaining Picasso's Blue Period as "he didn't have any other colors on hand".
While for some, a period of scarcity can lead to a minimalist outlook, the two aren't necessarily related, as I see it. You can be poor and still be materialistic. That's who all the Calvin Klein and Hugo Boss rip-offs are for. People who crave that social signaling, without having the actual wherewithal for it. As far as I'm concerned, a rip-off is as bad as the real thing in this day and age, and it seems what was once class has now merely been demoted to crass.
You can be poor and still crave expensive, kitschy crap. It doesn't mean you understood the concept. It just means it's all you can afford. That's because...
My grandmother wanted things. A lotta things. It's understandable when you consider the terrible poverty she and her children endured during Communism, after my grandfather was out of the picture. There were times when they didn't have a lot.
Yet, after she died two years ago, we spent months and months getting rid of junk that, in my grandmother's eyes, must've had some value. Boxes. Silverware. Broken china. Not-broken china. Clothes. Fabric leftovers. Sacks labeled "smaller sacks". I shit you not. Things nobody could've reasonably needed were carefully stored and cherished.
Though there were times when my grandmother had little, she could never be labeled a "minimalist". Not by a blind squirrel with zero understanding of human possessions. She was materialist to the core, went for anything flashy, anything she considered to be the anti-thesis of poverty. Because she knew poverty.
One of her daughters inherited that trait. The others didn't. In turn, I didn't. Where my grandmother would want me to dine out, I prefer to eat in. Not to save money. I have zero problems lavishing money on myself. I just don't attach value to a posh restaurant in the touristy part of town.
If a friend suggests a bar that's outside my budget, I tell them so. Not because I'm stingy or poor, but because if it costs more than the booze is worth, it's a cheap attempt to buoy my self-esteem. And I didn't work this hard to have gutter-level self-esteem influenced by how much I spend on a night out.
I was out earlier, thought I'd stop in at a cafe on the Rambla, the main street in Barcelona. A small part of me piped up to say it'd be "a treat", it being posh and loud and smack-dab in the centre. Precisely the reasons I abbhored the idea and opted for a smaller, quieter venue on a side street. It wasn't flashy, and from my seat, no one could see me, yet I could see everyone. Something I enjoy.
Neither was it about money. Sitting down there to catch my breath and read for a bit ended up being a lot more expensive than a quick stop in the posher Rambla venues.
The way I see it, it's not about being stingy. It's not about not spending money. It's about the best way to spend it. Are you doing it just to lighten your pocket, or does this experience/object hold meaning for you?
Writing this, I'm glancing out the window at my bathing suit hanging on the line, next to my beach towel. Old, with a hole in it. The towel. The suit old also and much worn, as these past several years have been heavy on the beach-ing. I love them. I don't care. As long as they're not visibly ripped or unusable, Imma keep using them, as I do everything I own. That's the difference, you see, between minimalists and those forced by necessity.
The latter goes out and buys a new suit as soon as their pocketbook allows. The former probably doesn't think about their suit unless they're in the proximity of a beach.
Most minimalists aren't made so because they can't afford to be otherwise, but because it's vapid and meaningless. And I'm sorry, but as long as you're labeling yourself a "minimalist" because you can't afford the expensive, meaningless status symbols, then you're probably pretty empty inside.
I mean, if you believe the shit you can't afford would give your life meaning, then it probably doesn't have much, in which case, I'd really apply myself to crafting a more meaningful existence for myself if I were you.
Else your life, at the end of the day, will be surmised as "oh, he would've so loved a pair of Gucci".
