Minimalism: the quiet answer to inflation and the rising cost of living
From 120 garments to 12 devices: one minimalist's inventory reveals the tensions between consumption, identity and poverty. Data and clashing viewpoints.
English · Original discussion in Spanish · Published
How many objects do you own? Minimalism as a barometer of the crisis
With runaway inflation, falling product quality and the feeling that everything keeps getting more expensive, some people have decided to take stock of their belongings. Not as an Instagram trend, but as a practical response to everyday economics. The count is revealing: 120 items of clothing, 12 electronic devices and a collection of 100 paper books declared non-negotiable. The act of counting one's possessions has become a symptom of the times.
Minimalism as an economic survival strategy
The cost-of-living crisis leaves no one indifferent. Those who make lists of their possessions do it not for aesthetics, but because they need to control spending and weigh every purchase. One extreme case: an intercontinental move with 18 kg of luggage plus a backpack holding a laptop, a camera and two lenses. Winter clothes stay behind; the car is 21 years old. Minimalism is not just philosophy: it means adapting to 50-square-metre flats where every metre counts, as those who have downsized can attest.
The inventory data speak clearly: one person may own 120 garments (counting socks and underwear), a dozen devices and a few hundred books. But others report 1,200 volumes plus technical journals, or even 7,000 books crammed into a 180-square-metre home. The tension between accumulating and letting go sharpens when your partner is a convinced minimalist who "refuses to set foot" in your house.
The controversy: philosophy or performative poverty?
The debate is polarised. One camp argues that minimalism is the perfect excuse for people to accept poverty as something cool. "You'll own nothing and be happy," they say with a wry smile, pointing out that baroque style and the accumulation of objects have historically been signs of prosperity. When money is scarce, fashion changes: the superfluous is discarded and emptiness embraced. But as soon as the good times return, "clutter" will be back.
Another camp holds that minimalism, properly understood, is not about renouncing but about choosing quality over quantity. One of each, but a good one: a guitar, a record player, a classic car. It is not about money; it is about avoiding redundancy and achieving "mental hygiene". A functional space should be light, clear and easy to clean. Baroque is suffocating, especially in small homes where visual clutter becomes oppressive to the point of OCD.
The consumption paradox: accumulation, purging and second-hand
A third group watches the phenomenon with irony: while some shed their belongings, others snap them up in second-hand shops at bargain prices. Clothes, furniture, tools, kitchen gadgets... what is superfluous to the minimalist is a steal for the bargain hunter. The cycle of accumulation-experimentation-purge is constant. Even those who embraced the Kondo method to remove "visual noise" have refilled their wardrobes, now justifying it with Mercury retrograde.
The heart of the matter
Behind every count lies an uncomfortable question: how much do we really need to live well? The answer is as personal as your own wardrobe. But one thing is clear: with inflation refusing to ease and wages falling short, taking inventory of what you own is a way of regaining control. Or at least of knowing what you would grab if the house caught fire. Spoiler: most likely, whatever is closest to the door.
With runaway inflation, falling product quality and the feeling that everything keeps getting more expensive, some people have decided to take stock of their belongings. Not as an Instagram trend, but as a practical response to everyday economics. The count is revealing: 120 items of clothing, 12 electronic devices and a collection of 100 paper books declared non-negotiable. The act of counting one's possessions has become a symptom of the times.
Minimalism as an economic survival strategy
The cost-of-living crisis leaves no one indifferent. Those who make lists of their possessions do it not for aesthetics, but because they need to control spending and weigh every purchase. One extreme case: an intercontinental move with 18 kg of luggage plus a backpack holding a laptop, a camera and two lenses. Winter clothes stay behind; the car is 21 years old. Minimalism is not just philosophy: it means adapting to 50-square-metre flats where every metre counts, as those who have downsized can attest.
The inventory data speak clearly: one person may own 120 garments (counting socks and underwear), a dozen devices and a few hundred books. But others report 1,200 volumes plus technical journals, or even 7,000 books crammed into a 180-square-metre home. The tension between accumulating and letting go sharpens when your partner is a convinced minimalist who "refuses to set foot" in your house.
The controversy: philosophy or performative poverty?
The debate is polarised. One camp argues that minimalism is the perfect excuse for people to accept poverty as something cool. "You'll own nothing and be happy," they say with a wry smile, pointing out that baroque style and the accumulation of objects have historically been signs of prosperity. When money is scarce, fashion changes: the superfluous is discarded and emptiness embraced. But as soon as the good times return, "clutter" will be back.
Another camp holds that minimalism, properly understood, is not about renouncing but about choosing quality over quantity. One of each, but a good one: a guitar, a record player, a classic car. It is not about money; it is about avoiding redundancy and achieving "mental hygiene". A functional space should be light, clear and easy to clean. Baroque is suffocating, especially in small homes where visual clutter becomes oppressive to the point of OCD.
The consumption paradox: accumulation, purging and second-hand
A third group watches the phenomenon with irony: while some shed their belongings, others snap them up in second-hand shops at bargain prices. Clothes, furniture, tools, kitchen gadgets... what is superfluous to the minimalist is a steal for the bargain hunter. The cycle of accumulation-experimentation-purge is constant. Even those who embraced the Kondo method to remove "visual noise" have refilled their wardrobes, now justifying it with Mercury retrograde.
The heart of the matter
Behind every count lies an uncomfortable question: how much do we really need to live well? The answer is as personal as your own wardrobe. But one thing is clear: with inflation refusing to ease and wages falling short, taking inventory of what you own is a way of regaining control. Or at least of knowing what you would grab if the house caught fire. Spoiler: most likely, whatever is closest to the door.
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Summary of a discussion on Burbuja.info - Foro de economía, actualidad y política., translated from Spanish and reviewed before publication. Read the full discussion (50 replies).
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