I like our funky old kitchen linoleum.  My girlfriend wants to replace it, though it's not her highest priority.  But new linoleum scares me--I'm afraid of "The Diderot Effect."
         Diderot was a French writer who penned a piece called "Regrets on Parting with My Old Dressing Gown."  He had been given a fancy new gown, so he tossed his old one.  His well-worn furnishings didn't fit with the new gown, however, and soon he was replacing tapestries, chairs, desks, and bookshelves.  Finally, he found himself financially depleted, uncomfortable amidst his new possessions, and resenting the "scarlet robe that forced everything else to conform with its own elegant tone."
         If we get new linoleum, the wallpaper and curtains might start looking pretty tired.  Then there's the old living room carpet, and the crummy screen door out back.  I can envision cascading sequences of domestic upheaval and spending, but I'm perfectly happy as things are and would rather save the money and spend the time playing bridge or working in the garden.  I'd also hate to waste the old linoleum in a landfill.  We'll have to continue communicating on this one...
         I learned about Diderot from a book I just finished:  The Overspent American:  Why We Want What We Don't Need, by Harvard professor Juliet Schor.  She analyzes the psychology of "buying behavior," shows how people can feel "strapped" even on $100,000 a year, and discusses our shocking levels of consumer debt.  She shows how advertising, the media, and powerful social norms create relentlessly increasing desire, leading many to an intense "work and spend" lifestyle and leaving Americans of all income categories feeling increasingly rushed and starved for time.  Schor also discusses recently emerging trends of "downshifting" and "voluntary simplicity," which involve slowing down and
returning to basic values such as saving, avoiding waste, and nurturing friendships and family relationships.
         Awareness of the Diderot Effect can help in evaluating possible purchases and their related but indirect costs.  For example, buying a larger, nicer house may entail purchasing more and "nicer" furniture.  For years, I decorated by putting beautiful posters up with thumbtacks.  I enjoyed them immensely, but when I got one thing nicely framed, suddenly the rest looked "tacky."  Framing costs a lot of money...  If I "go out" for coffee, don't I really "need" a pastry to go with it?  If I "upgrade" to a new computer, won't new software also be necessary?  What about the printer?  The old one just won't do justice to the new machine's capabilities, so maybe I'd better plan on that, too.  And so on.
         I still don't quite understand the SUV phenomenon.  As gas prices rise, I'm thrilled not to be filling one up.  I'm sure some who live in the hills must find them incredibly useful, but my small hatchback has been on many camping trips and gone on lots of dirt roads to backcountry trailheads without any problem.  I suspect the reason some people may not visit the backcountry as much as they'd like is not because they lack a Trooper, Explorer, or Range Rover, but rather because they spend too much time working to make loan payments on these things.  And ponder the names of those three vehicles:  it sounds like Lewis and Clark have returned from the dead!
         Some may own Sport Utility Vehicles and yet escape the Diderot Effect, but for others ownership might lead to additional purchases of trailers, boats, or expensive outdoor gear.  I once heard that a boat is really "a hole, down which you pour money."  I don't know--I've never owned one.
         So think about this Frenchman and his elegant new gown next time you're about to part with some loot, and consider if your purchase will trigger the Diderot Effect.  We must go into these things with our eyes open.
 
 

         For further thoughts on these matters, please see my related articles:  A Return to Frugality, and Buy Nothing Day.  There are some great links at the end of each of these two columns.