image courtesy of ZeHawk

Several months ago, I bought a new brassiere. This is no ordinary bra—it is Italian, hand-made, and beautifully engineered. It cost about 5 times what I normally spend on bras. I call it The Magic Bra.

At the time, I felt very decadent dropping 3 figures on a single undergarment. The first few times I wore it, I showed the hot pink and gold lace appliqued straps to my friends and said, “Can you believe I spent so much money on this?” I had never bought such a fine item of lingerie before, and I felt pampered and gorgeous every time I put it on.

Love means that the novelty doesn’t wear off

Personal Development guru Steve Pavlina had a similar experience with some furniture that he and his wife bought for their home, and I love how he tells the story. Instead of setting a budget and choosing items to fit into it, they decided to get what they liked best up to a certain dollar amount. They weren’t able to furnish the entire house, but they didn’t compromise and ended up with items they love. He describes the difference:

When the furniture was delivered and set up in our home, I noticed that I felt much differently about it vs. how I used to feel about all our old hand-me-down furniture. I felt so appreciative of it. I was very grateful for it ...

To this day when I sit at our dining room table, I can’t help but notice what a nice table it is. Although we bought it two years ago, I never take it for granted. I still comment to Erin about what a great table it is. This surprises me. I’d have thought that by now, my enthusiasm for this table would have worn off, but it hasn’t. You’d figure I’d be accustomed to it by now. Nope. I feel grateful every time I sit down at it.

I had the same experience with my wildly expensive brassiere. I expected the novelty to wear off after a while, but now it’s almost a year later, and I still feel the same way about it. It sounds a little silly, I suppose, but I truly love this bra and the way it makes me feel. Consequently I take good care of it—other than one accidental incident, it has never seen the inside of a washer or a dryer. In fact, washing it out in the bathroom sink is a joy because it’s so well made. Every other bra I’ve ever owned looks gnarly after a few months, but this one looks as good as the day I bought it. It is truly magic!

“The everyday object is the monarch of all objects”

I thought of my beloved Magic Bra when I recently read Bruce Sterling’s last Viridian Design article, in which he talks about the changing face of consumerism in the 21st century. He suggests that our power to change the world lies at least partly in how we think about the things around us.

It’s not bad to own fine things that you like. What you need are things that you GENUINELY like. Things that you cherish, that enhance your existence in the world. The rest is dross.

The items that you use incessantly, the items you employ every day, the normal, boring goods that don’t seem luxurious or romantic: these are the critical ones. They are truly central. The everyday object is the monarch of all objects. It’s in your time most, it’s in your space most. It is “where it is at,” and it is “what is going on.”

The hedonic treadmill—to be resisted?

Sterling’s words make a lot of sense to me, and also make me think differently about the hedonic treadmill, also known as the phenomenon of getting used to excellent espresso to the point that you are no longer able to drink coffee from the gas station.

Many personal finance writers suggest trying to resist the hedonic treadmill. After all, if the only coffee you like is expensive and fancy, it can be harder to save money (not to mention getting yourself caffeinated on an interstate in Kansas). Articles on “how to be happier” often suggest the same thing: don’t ramp up your expectations, because you’ll have to keep doing so in order to attain the same level of contentment. Not to mention the environmental impact—where do you go when a Hummer isn’t big enough anymore?

Instead of MORE stuff, BETTER stuff—markedly better

But, it occurs to me that there’s another way to look at this. Perhaps the hedonic treadmill can work in our favor by raising the bar on what we expect from our purchases. Maybe we SHOULD get used to the most excellent, beautifully designed versions of what we need to buy anyway, so that we spend less money on thoughtless “dross.”

See, if I’d bought 5 crappy bras, they still wouldn’t have brought me the joy that one Magic Bra does. And now that I’ve seen what’s possible in bra technology, I can’t bring myself to pay any amount of money, no matter how small, for an inferior one. Instead I will wait and save up until I can afford another magical Magic Bra.

Now I’m the first to admit that my choice of lingerie is not a game-changer on a large scale. I also realize that most people are not in a position to buy the best of the best all the time—heck, I’m not either. But I think there is some merit in the idea of saving up for the best possible version of things we use every day.

Like, rather than buy 3 cheap sets of sheets, maybe I save up for one nice organic cotton set that wears like iron. Instead of burning through an unending stream of crappy “planned obsolescence” blenders, maybe I save up for a Vita-Mix. And even if sheets and a Vita-Mix are the only things I buy in the next year, maybe that will be far better than “economizing”—both for my day-to-day satisfaction and for the creation of a sustainable world based on quality rather than quantity.

The vision

Imagine going through life armed with well-designed tools, attired in lovely and longlasting clothes. You’d rarely have to go shopping, and you’d have less stuff to worry about, so you could live in a smaller, more intelligently designed home. Getting dressed would be a joy, like visiting beloved, beautiful, and dependable old friends. And without an errant underwire poking you in the ribs, you’d be free to think about bigger things, like how to best use your talents and your time on Earth for good instead of digging through bargain bins.

Sounds nice, right? And it’s doable—it’s just a matter of bringing thoughtfulness into the day-to-day and making the mundane magnificent.