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When I was younger, it was embarrassing to admit, even to my closest friends, that many of my clothes were secondhand or that I didn’t own as many brand-name hoodies as my peers. At that time, I couldn’t fathom the idea of paying more than $15 for a T-shirt with the Hollister-brand logo printed in the corner or sweatpants with “Abercrombie & Fitch” emblazoned on the pant leg. I was even ashamed of not having the coolest new toy sold in the stores. Instead, I played with the stuffed animals I picked up from the 50-cent basket at neighborhood garage sales or hand-me-downs gifted by older family friends.
Looking back at how my peers bragged about how expensive their basic black leggings were in middle school, it’s ironic to now hear them gloat about bargains they land on shopping sites like Amazon and Shein in college. On social media, “dupe finds” are quickly becoming a popular trend, with the #lululemondupe garnering more than 9,000 posts on TikTok and #dupe hosting more than 250,000 posts on the platform. By contrast, I remember growing up watching hauls where influencers proudly flaunted their shopaholic tendencies, admitting that they had just dropped too much money on clothes and makeup.
Although these types of maximalist spending videos are still popular, a wave of more approachable and relatable media for the average consumer is on the rise. Thrift hauls are seen as popular alternatives for those seeking style on a budget, and the recent trend of “underconsumption core” challenges influencers’ materialism in the modern era by showing what normal spending looks like in middle-class households. In fact, the “de-influencing” trend on TikTok, which discourages the purchase of unnecessary material goods, arose in direct opposition to indulgent, nonstop spending promoted by influencers.
It’s not just short videos on Instagram Reels and TikTok that are trending. Long-form videos made by YouTube channels like The Financial Diet, Graham Stephen and Debt Free Millennials that focus on personal finance, budgeting and investing are also burgeoning in popularity. These channels create a space for honest and transparent conversations about relationships with money, financial privilege and student loans or housing debt — historically taboo topics. The rise of these channels is a testament to people’s newfound openness in dialogues about managing money.
Maybe it is this shift in social media content, or it is the transitional period from living with my parents as a child to financial independence as a semiadult, but I feel less ashamed of my frugal tendencies now. When I receive compliments on my clothes, instead of feeling the need to lie, I’m in a space now where I now feel comfortable admitting that they are hand-me-downs I stole from my parent’s closet (produced before planned obsolescence, might I add). When my roommates applauded the inexpensive Friendsgiving and Galentine’s Day decorations I adorned my apartment with this past year, I was open to sharing how much I saved by hoarding online coupons and finding sneaky, exclusive deals.
While some students may prioritize exclusive brands within their social circles, that has not been my personal experience in college. The University of Michigan is home to 33,488 undergraduates and is ranked the number-three public university in the U.S. This allows for a variety of distinctly different social environments to take hold along with an array of spending habits. While I acknowledge that some social scenes on campus may exacerbate students’ insecurities regarding financial choices and economic privilege, I have found that my social experience at the University has helped me become more confident in my more frugal upbringing and current bargain-hunting habits.
Instead of feeling self-conscious about being a penniless college student, I feel a sense of camaraderie and community with other college students who may be in the same boat as I am — working part-time jobs and learning to be financially independent for the first time. Maybe it’s because we, as young adults, are in this period of our lives when the status symbol of a name brand isn’t worth our hard-earned hourly wages that could be used on more practical expenses, such as utility bills and healthy groceries. Sometimes, college students simply have other purchases they prioritize, even if they are a bit impractical, like drinks at the bar.
This openness about managing money doesn’t just help students relate to one another; it also creates conversations around budgeting and financial literacy that become increasingly more important as we grow older. Why not start now?
I’m wondering if this acceptance of frugality and purchasing off-brand will continue beyond graduation as we enter the real world with full-time employment, or if it’s an attitude exclusive to college campuses. After seeing countless posts under “Big Girl Money” on TikTok, it seems as if making a salary rather than a wage is enough to negate all the progress made towards bargain-searching. The “Big Girl Money” trend is when women on social media share how they are able to spoil themselves with their newfound financial security, normally garnered after leaving school and entering the workforce. The most common form of leisure spending I see online is when girls buy items their parents never let them have as adolescents or teenagers, like clothing pieces from Aritzia, designer handbags or sometimes even flights to luxurious vacation spots.
More money doesn’t always mean more lavish spending, however. As Chinese immigrants, my parents were very conscious of saving money in any way they could while raising me and my sister. From trying their best to avoid buying brand-new toys and clothes to finding opportunities where my sister and I could have fun at free museums, my parents did anything they could to avoid spending copious amounts of money while still offering us a fruitful childhood. Even though they are better off now, many of their habits reflect their penny-pinching roots since arriving in the United States.
Instead of buying high-quality stoneware bowls, they still opt to shop for cheaper porcelain bowls sold in bulk at the Chinese supermarket. Although they could buy nice kitchen organizers from The Container Store, they still choose to reuse jars that once held sauces, marinades and pickled vegetables. Even when shopping for furniture as I was heading back to campus this year, they encouraged me to look at Facebook Marketplace and furniture outlets for cheaper alternatives. The most iconic practice that all my friends joke about is my parent’s tendency to hoard plastic shopping bags to reuse as trash liners. (No, really, my house is never without a large trash bag filled with at least 25 plastic bags inside).
My upbringing imbued me with the belief that money is a precious, hard-earned resource. When I was making minimum wage working in the food court at my local mall, I would calculate how many hours it would take to earn enough to buy items on my shopping list, which only heightened my need to reflect on what I truly wanted and how much I was willing to pay. Earning more now as a college student with more work and educational experience under my belt, I still feel a pull to save as much as I can, just like my parents.
The economy is in an interesting place right now. Consumers are overall more hesitant to spend money on extravagant items, with reports suggesting that there has been a trend of sluggish discretionary spending during this year. Even considering the state of the economy, though, the shift from putting brands on a pedestal to bragging about bargains is a mysterious one, given how coveted name-brand items are in society. We could look at the social media patterns for answers, or the socioeconomic state of the world. Perhaps we can even turn to the emphasis on how constant production and consumption are leading to rising concerns surrounding environmentalism and unfair labor practices. After all, would you still be buying things guilt-free after watching a jarring documentary on how the clothes on your back were made?
As someone who was once made fun of for wearing my mom’s dull cardigans and turtlenecks and now is lauded for being environmentally friendly, thrifty and having a fashionable parent, I have mixed feelings about this somewhat sudden shift in attitude. The cynic in me questions whether I’m being complimented because people actually mean what they say, or because being frugal is somehow a trend now. What happens if the switch is flipped, and suddenly I’m that unpopular little girl with the unbranded t-shirts and sweatshirts again? I know I’m not alone, and it’s a confusing time for me and a lot of other students in my (off-brand) shoes.
Looking back, I guess you could say I’m a little dismayed at how money wasn’t an open topic of discussion when I was a kid. And I’m appalled by the way I, along with many others, were treated for being “cheap.” Looking forward, though, I think I’ll continue on with my frugal, coupon-clipping habits. After all, even if bargain hunting doesn’t continue to be a socially acceptable practice, it will always be the way I was raised and the lens through which I view the financial landscapes of the world.
Statement Columnist Michelle Wu can be reached at michewu@umich.edu.
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