I didn’t set out to become a nomad.
It began with uncertainty—the kind that forces you to press pause on life because you don’t know where your job will take you next. My husband and I packed everything into storage and decided to wait.
Weeks turned into months, then years. And somewhere along the way, I noticed something surprising: most of the things I thought I needed, I didn’t need at all.
When I caught myself eyeing a new dress or a shiny gadget, reality would kick in. I had no space, not in my backpack, not in my head, not in my life.
The shopping-influencer trap
I’d love to say I became a minimalist guru overnight. But I didn’t.
At the time, I followed an Instagram influencer. You’ve seen this before: perfect lighting, perfect appearance, and “life-changing” online shopping recommendations. She promoted a compact, travel-friendly charger that could power my fitness watch, phone, and earbuds all at once.
I knew some of her content was sponsored. I also knew better. I bought it anyway.
Overconsumption: the silent engine of overproduction
That charger was more than just a bad buy. It’s a symbol of a much bigger problem.
We live in a system designed to keep us wanting things we don’t need. This isn’t simply clever marketing: it’s an economic engine that depends on fabricated needs to survive.
The consequences are real:
- For the planet: greenhouse gas emissions, biodiversity loss, shrinking water reserves, and ever-growing waste.
- For people: exploitation in supply chains, unsafe working conditions, and entire communities—often in the Global South—left with polluted water, degraded land, and huge waste dumps affecting entire communities.
We buy too much. Hence, companies make too much. And every step in that cycle costs someone, somewhere.
The illusion of “greener” consumption
Companies may adopt renewable energy, upgrade materials, and boost efficiency—but production keeps accelerating. This is green overproduction: like mopping the floor while the tap is still running.
On the other hand, consumers are waking up. Many genuinely want to make better choices. Tools like apps, certifications, and ethical shopping guides are helping. But the dominant narrative remains: keep buying, just “better.” As if that alone will fix the problem
What a refuse-first mindset looks like
For consumers
Most purchases aren’t essential, and they rarely lead to lasting happiness or fulfillment. Start by refusing. If something does add value, explore circular options like renting, borrowing, or repairing. When that’s not feasible, prioritize local, transparent suppliers. And always ask: who’s influencing this desire? Social media, advertising, even well-intentioned friends can subtly push you toward mindless consumption.
For companies
- Refuse overproduction: focus on fewer, higher-quality products instead of endless new releases.
- Refuse short lifespans: design for durability, repair, and reuse.
- Refuse virgin resource dependence: use recycled or regenerative materials, and work with local closed-loop supply chains.
- Refuse impulse-driven marketing: position your brand as a partner in reducing excess, not fueling it.
- Refuse meaningless incentives: replace promotional gifts with environmental credits (e.g., reforestation, conservation) to recognize or celebrate without adding to overproduction.
Some companies already live by these principles. Patagonia has famously encouraged customers to buy less and repair more. Citroën had a wonderful marketing campaign urging their EV users to drive less. Fairphone builds smartphones to be repairable, upgradable, and ethically sourced. These aren’t perfect solutions, but they show that different business models are possible.
For policymakers
We need to dismantle systems that reward overproduction. That means incentivizing repair, reuse, and waste reduction, while penalizing unnecessary output.
The EU has already introduced a “right to repair” law requiring manufacturers to make spare parts available for up to 10 years. France imposes penalties on companies that destroy unsold goods. In South Korea, producers are financially responsible for the waste their products generate. These are early steps, but they show what’s possible when regulation targets the root causes, not just the symptoms.
The charger that taught me everything
Remember that all-in-one charger?
The fitness watch took hours to charge. The wireless phone pad never worked with my phone. I tried using it maybe four or five times before shoving it into storage with the other “maybe someday” things.
It was cheap. But the real cost? The materials mined. The emissions from manufacturing. The labor conditions in its supply chain. The waste it will become. Multiply that by billions of products each year, and you see the real crisis. It’s not just that we buy too much. It’s that we keep making too much, convincing ourselves it’s progress.
The future we need won’t come from the next great product. It will come when we have the courage to make, sell, and own less—starting with the things that never should have been made in the first place.
