I’m currently living through a home construction project and it is very… disruptive. Trying to keep two little kids out of the house all day, running around to various parks and children’s museums and creeks and mountain bike trails (I have a three year old who already dives down the bunny hills); packed lunches and spilled smoothies in car seats and stickers everywhere… it is chaotic.
Last year my husband and I opportunistically purchased a beautiful, albeit small (for us midwesterners) house that checked all of our boxes for a more sustainable, outdoor-focused life. The single acre property features peach and fig and persimmon trees, a deer-proofed (very important!) garden area, and a treehouse that we’ve converted into a work-from-home space. We even have backyard chickens.
We knew that the house itself would be tight for our growing family, but we’ve had a fun go at it.
We’ve split our living room area into two - an adult sitting area and a kids play zone, all centered around a wood-burning stove and not a TV a sight.
We made a cosy space for our toddler out of a hallway closet - it was big enough for vertical clothing and book storage and a crib, which the two-year-old began yeeting himself out of shortly after little brother was born this summer. (One night while up with the newborn, we heard little feet pitter-pattering down the hallway; my husband and I looked at each other and said “Oh shit.” A baby gate was installed the next day.) Now, the toddler sleeps on a pallet on the floor with oodles of pillows and books - he calls it his “critter hole” - and we’re just rolling with it.
The biggest pain points of a smaller house have been 1) sharing a single bathroom and 2) sharing our bedroom with an 8-month-old who roars all night like a dinosaur and, quite frankly, needs to GTFO.
We don’t want a massive space, but we do want just a bit more space…
While exciting, there’s no situation better than a home renovation to make you feel a little unsettled and a little out of control1.
In the last couple weeks, our builders connected the existing structure of our home with the new construction. As they broke into walls, DUST WENT EVERYWHERE. And dust doesn’t simply settle… as the saying goes. No, each speck of dust floats around like a wandering vagary, dropping at perfect intervals from the piece of dust just before and after it. You wipe a surface, cook dinner, and return to see that the surface is once again covered in film.
Today, I got a knock on the door from our contractor saying: “we’re spraying insulation today - if you have a formaldehyde sensitivity, you may want to sleep somewhere else tonight.” Well.
It’s fair to say I am very much not in control of this situation. I’m on the home renovation ride, just holding on.
I heard somewhere (I believe it’s a military practice?) that the first thing you should do every morning, regardless of circumstance, is make your bed. I’ve been doing this for the last few years, and something about a tidy bed situation brings a breath of peace, even when the rest of your life (or house) is chaotic.
The “make your bed first thing in the morning” advice runs rampant in self-improvement circles (as does the advice to wake up early, which as much as I hate to admit, works wonders when I actually pull it off.) As a result, it’s easy to write-off as a silly little life hack without any meaningful backing or benefit to it.
But there’s 2 things that occur when you make your bed, even in the midst of absolute chaos: a quick hit of dopamine (from accomplishing a fairly easy-to-accomplish task) and a sense of control. Both things that find their way into marketing and the “why” behind a lot of what we buy. Today, we’ll talk about control. Dopamine will be another day.
The first half of the clip below from Collateral Beauty (I couldn’t handle this movie) makes the argument: “everything that we ultimately end up buying… is because at the end of the day, we long for love; we wish we had more time; and we fear death.”
(A poetic scene.. this is the type marketing BS that feels so familiar to me after years in corp marketing but leaves others scratching their heads and thinking… really?!)
Love … time … death … Aren’t each of these ultimately about control; increasing or mitigating our exposure to something we hope to have, or hope to avoid?
Is it true, as Will Smith’s character claims, that we purchase things to feel like we can grasp our hands around something we hope for so strongly?
I think so.
I buy all kinds of stuff when I’m stressed out and seeking an ounce of comfort and consolation and sense of order.
Like, since we started construction, I’ve been a little looser with my purchasing habits. Sometimes I catch myself thinking outrageous thoughts like: “we’re already spending $600 on a bathtub today, what’s another $xx???” This can look like coffees on the go (caffeine! sugar! energy!); an impulse purchase pair of boots made AT THE MALL (I’ve been desperate for new spots to entertain my toddler out of the house); an unplanned thrift haul (though I found lots of things I love); and more Dairy Queen blizzards than I care to share with you all here.
When things are out of control, we thirst for (at least the illusion) of being able to dictate our circumstances.
And this highlights something that I wish more people knew about marketing:
Marketing is most effective, and we as consumers are most susceptible to marketing, when something in our life feels hard or really out of control. When a company comes along and promises to make us feel better about a hard situation, or regain some aspect of control in our lives, we’re primed and willing to pay for just about anything. The emotional benefits we derive from purchases made in our more vulnerable scenarios are very much a part of the price we are willing to pay.
I like feeling in control.
How much would you pay for this elusive feeling?
Amidst a national housing crisis, I’m cautious to complain about the privilege of undertaking home construction. I hope it would go without saying that I am extremely grateful to be in a financial situation to swing this, and that my musings are quite minuscule compared to the perils of being shelter-insecure. I’m fortunate to be in a situation to over-analyze purchases like coffee and boots and ice cream.
Marketers need to be offer the feeling of control through purchase to consumers at every price point. So they make both Takis for the broke teenagers and sports cars for the well-off crisis-having middle aged man.
I’m so glad I found your Substack! I’m in a 900 sq ft house with husband, toddler, and 10-month-old, so this really resonated. I love the idea of a critter nook and might have to try that kind of creative problem solving when we put our kids in the same room. And love the list of shopping questions in your TikTok video!