A rant on students needing straight A’s in overconsumption.

It’s the start of August. No leaves have fallen yet or even dared to consider fading from green. But we don’t need the leaves to fall; we’re already slipping from our roots, descending into our yearly madness: back-to-school shopping. Our money is slippery and an easy catch for the mantle-deep pockets of overconsumption.

CHA-CHING! 

I understand that, in many cases, shopping is inevitable. Children grow and need new clothes and shoes each year. And I won’t pretend like I don’t lose my pens and pencils.

But I’ve stopped growing.

Do I really need a new closet every September? Do I really need mounds of plastic-wrapped stacks of paper or the latest diamond-of-the-season water bottle? My For You page on TikTok is trying to convince me that I do.

Imagine if everyone at a sold-out Rogers Place concert posted a back-to-school haul. Now double that. That would still be less than the over 45,000 posts on TikTok with the hashtag #backtoschoolhaul.

What really irks me are the videos framing these hauls as back-to-school essentials or must-haves. Apparently, for my success as a student, I need five new pairs of jeans a year. It’s no secret at this point that fast fashion and the apparel industry are awful for the planet. I know I have a bitter case of the “back in my days,” but hear me out. These back-to-school hauls are downright depressing. Late-stage capitalism has fabricated a frantic necessity behind shopping and posting, and shopping and posting.

Today on TikTok, I watched a young woman’s no-budget shopping vlog for her first year of high school. Sure, she is technically contributing to overconsumption by making TikToks glorifying buying, but the real problem of overconsumption starts with company execs and social media algorithms. Just as they weave plastic into our clothes, they dye us in discomfort and desire for their shiny plastic armor.

As we hold our phones inches away from our eyes, we manifest exorbitant consumption into our lives. The transition into the September school season is littered with the sounds of spending, and it’s all part of the plan. 

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Graphic by Forrester Toews