CURATED SIMPLICITY 84child owns no fewer than 238 toys.
The average American woman has
enough clothes to wear a different
outfit every day of the month - with
Americans spending more on their
watches, shoes, coats, dresses, neck-
laces, and earrings ($100 billion a
year) than they do on education.
Many people, like my family, have
cupboards, drawers, and garages full
of items they no longer use, collect-
ing dust, crowding their space.
It is little wonder, then, that
“minimalism” has become this cen-
tury’s buzzword. The minimalist
movement preaches less is more. By
cutting out needless stuff from our
lives (and from our physical, mental,
and technological spaces), we can
find freedom.
In 2005, Tim Kasser, a psychol-
ogy professor at Knox College in
Illinois, found that those who de-
liberately simplified their lives “re-
ported significantly higher levels of
life satisfaction, more experiences
of pleasant emotion and fewer ex-
periences of unpleasant emotion”- despite differences in age, gender,
and geography.
Many friends of mine have
bought into the trend - often
through necessity. One couple, un-
able to afford to buy in London, own
their own houseboat on the Thames.
There, they roam from mooring to
mooring every two to three weeks
as the law dictates. With next to no
space, they can have a single pair
of boots, a single coat, and a single
pair of jeans each. Bulk buying is
never an option: when they go to
the supermarket, they get just what
By cutting out needless
stuff from our lives, we
can find freedom.they need for the next day. But they
have water views, a cosy wood-burn-
ing oven, and can live in one of the
world’s most expensive cities.
Yet minimalism often gets a bad
rap. The word - which in its essence
is associated with stripping down- has become a catch-all for a cer-
tain aesthetic: white walls, green pot
plants, an occasional artfully placed
piece of homemade pottery. For its
detractors, that aesthetic is loaded
with a sense of class-riddled superi-
ority and smug morality.
Whether ‘minimalism’ means
living in a tiny house or choosing a
‘modular’ wardrobe (ethos: buy qual-
ity over quantity), “they all imply
that they are in some way a moral
upgrade from the life of ‘mindless
consumerism’,” writes journalist
Chelsea Fagan in an article titled,
Minimalism: another boring product
wealthy people can buy.
The movement, Fagan contin-
ues, allows “you to take on some of
the desirable aesthetics and moral-
ity of poverty without ever having
to be poor... note the fetishisation
of the curated ‘simplicity’ of the
ultra-rich: their clean loft spaces,
their designer capsule wardrobes,
their elaborately reduced diets.
These people are still conspicuously
consuming in mind-boggling ways,
they’re just filtering it through the
convenient prism of simplicity.”
Brooklyn-based writer Kyle
Chayka puts it another way: “It
has become an ostentatious ritual
of consumerist self-sacrifice; people
who have it all now seem to prefer
having nothing at all.” The move-
ment, he argues, is “an outgrowth
of a peculiarly American (that is to
say, paradoxical and self-defeating)
brand of Puritanical asceticism”
one that leads to “new modes of
consumption”.
In the tech world, such asceti-
cism has found other ways to exist:
through self-imposed hunger. Twit-
ter co-founder Jack Dorsey is not
only a proponent of silent medita-
tion techniques, ironically, given
the platform he has made billions
from encourages vast amounts of
societal noise; he preaches reducing
food consumption too, often eating
just one meal a day.
As is the case of reducing the
stuff around us, reducing the food
we eat voluntarily is, of course,
only available to those who have an
abundance of food in the first place.
And yet minimalism is attractive
for a reason: who doesn’t crave sim-
plicity, a lack of distraction, more
focus in their lives? Or, just plainly,
the freedom from living with too
much stuff.CURATED SIMPLICITY 84 Home
child owns no fewer than 238 toys.
The average American woman has
enough clothes to wear a different
outfit every day of the month - with
Americans spending more on their
watches, shoes, coats, dresses, neck-
laces, and earrings ($100 billion a
year) than they do on education.
Many people, like my family, have
cupboards, drawers, and garages full
of items they no longer use, collect-
ing dust, crowding their space.
It is little wonder, then, that
“minimalism” has become this cen-
tury’s buzzword. The minimalist
movement preaches less is more. By
cutting out needless stuff from our
lives (and from our physical, mental,
and technological spaces), we can
find freedom.
In 2005, Tim Kasser, a psychol-
ogy professor at Knox College in
Illinois, found that those who de-
liberately simplified their lives “re-
ported significantly higher levels of
life satisfaction, more experiences
of pleasant emotion and fewer ex-
periences of unpleasant emotion”
- despite differences in age, gender,
and geography.
Many friends of mine have
bought into the trend - often
through necessity. One couple, un-
able to afford to buy in London, own
their own houseboat on the Thames.
There, they roam from mooring to
mooring every two to three weeks
as the law dictates. With next to no
space, they can have a single pair
of boots, a single coat, and a single
pair of jeans each. Bulk buying is
never an option: when they go to
the supermarket, they get just what
By cuttingout needless
stufffromour lives,we
can findfreedom.theyneedforthenextday.Butthey
havewaterviews,a cosywood-burn-
ingoven,andcanliveinoneofthe
world’smostexpensivecities.
Yetminimalismoftengetsa bad
rap.Theword- whichinitsessence
is associated with stripping down- has become a catch-allfor a cer-
tainaesthetic:whitewalls,greenpot
plants,anoccasionalartfullyplaced
pieceofhomemadepottery. Forits
detractors, that aesthetic is loaded
witha senseofclass-riddledsuperi-
orityandsmugmorality.
Whether ‘minimalism’ means
livingina tinyhouseorchoosinga
‘modular’wardrobe(ethos:buyqual-
ity over quantity), “they all imply
that they are in someway a moral
upgrade from the life of ‘mindless
consumerism’,” writes journalist
Chelsea Fagan in an article titled,
Minimalism: another boring product
wealthy peoplecanbuy.
The movement, Fagan contin-
ues, allows “youtotakeonsomeof
the desirable aesthetics and moral-
ity of poverty without ever having
to be poor...note the fetishisation
of the curated ‘simplicity’ of the
ultra-rich: their clean loft spaces,
their designer capsule wardrobes,
their elaborately reduced diets.
Thesepeoplearestillconspicuously
consuming in mind-boggling ways,
they’re justfiltering it through the
convenientprismofsimplicity.”
Brooklyn-based writer Kyle
Chayka puts it another way: “It
has become an ostentatious ritual
ofconsumeristself-sacrifice;people
whohaveit allnowseemtoprefer
havingnothingatall.”Themove-
ment, heargues, is“an outgrowth
ofa peculiarlyAmerican(thatis to
say,paradoxicalandself-defeating)
brand of Puritanical asceticism”
one that leads to “new modes of
consumption”.
In the tech world, such asceti-
cismhasfoundotherwaystoexist:
through self-imposed hunger. Twit-
ter co-founder Jack Dorsey is not
only a proponent of silent medita-
tion techniques, ironically, given
the platform he has made billions
from encourages vast amounts of
societalnoise;hepreachesreducing
foodconsumptiontoo,ofteneating
justonemeala day.
As is the case of reducing the
stuff around us, reducing the food
we eat voluntarily is, of course,
onlyavailabletothosewhohavean
abundanceoffoodinthefirstplace.
Andyetminimalismis attractive
fora reason:whodoesn’tcravesim-
plicity, a lack of distraction, more
focusintheirlives?Or, just plainly,
the freedom from living with too
much stuff.Home