I finally pulled the trigger this past December. After months of careful deliberation, Internet searching and checking side-by-side reviews, I finally… bought a brand-new iPad.
Exciting, right? It completely redefines the way I read news, saves my friends’ Netflix passwords and gives me another way to indulge my guilty pleasure of simplistic mobile video games.
But I felt a twinge of remorse as I unwrapped its plastic packaging and plugged in my password for the first time, reminded of the MP3 player I wanted so badly and the car speakers I couldn’t live without. I saved up for months to buy each of them, and they were such a priority at the time.
Yet they now sit unused in my glove box and garage, respectively. I should really be posting a classified ad about them rather than mentioning them in a column.
It’s like grandpa always says: Things just aren’t made like they used to be. Whether it’s cars, electronics or clothes, I’ve come to the conclusion that our purchases are going out of style quicker than ever.
The most pertinent problem is in the electronics sphere. Like my MP3 player and car speakers, the iPad I just bought will be all but obsolete within several years, and I’ll be left lusting for the latest and greatest of the time.
This is a particular problem for me — someone who has limited discretionary income and a really tough time making major purchases. I’ve slaved over whether to buy basically every $100-plus item I’ve ever purchased. It goes for significant things such as my car and computer, both of which I use daily, and little things of lesser consequence such as sports equipment. I’m notorious for obsessing over little details, researching products crazily and finding a way to shave off a couple dollars from any routine purchase.
It becomes especially problematic, on a smaller scale, when it comes time to shop for clothes — something I don’t do often. (As someone who has been the same size since the eighth grade, give or take 20 pounds, I have a closet full of old clothes that could use a good cleaning.)
Likewise, I’ve found many of my recent clothing purchases to be unfulfilling. The suit jacket I bought after graduation that I thought fit me so well? My business major roommate laughs at me because it’s too big. The two pairs of Dockers slacks I snagged last summer? Fading fast and baggy in the seat. The majority of my tie collection? Too fat. Since when are ties judged for their width? Last I checked it was only a tie’s length that matters.
It’s a direct rebuttal to the seemingly obvious notion that once you “grow up” you can afford to finally purchase nice things because they’ll last a while. As it turns out, you just keep buying things, because — whether technology, fashion or a mix of the two — there’s always the next big thing looming in your sight.
It says something disheartening about our culture that we’re living longer than ever but our products, though built to last for eons, have lifespans that seem to barely last longer than winter in Northern Michigan.
But there’s hardly a way to rebel against it, because the next greatest thing is just so darn cool.
Jim Ryan is a junior studying journalism and the assistant managing editor of The Post. Can you lend him some ties that won’t go out of style? Email Jim at jr992810@ohiou.edu.
This column originally appeared in print under the headline "Keeping up with clothing, tech trends proves tricky"
