Why do you keep buying shitty products?

Dear Reader, 

Let us be honest, we all have done it.

We all, at some point in our lives, have bought the overpriced candle, the magic supplement, or the luxury skin cream that turned out to be complete crap.

Soon after, you felt that little sting of buyer’s regret.

You know it is crap, you knew it was crap before buying it, but you bought it anyway.

So why does this happen?

Let’s look at it not through judgment, but through a psychological lens.

We do not buy products, we buy feelings:

Most of the time, people are not shopping for things or needs; they are shopping for states of mind.

That £80 face cream has nothing to do with ageing but with control; the belief that you can pause time.

That overpriced candle was never about scent. It is about calm, the illusion that peace can be purchased.

Shitty products work because they tap into real emotional needs.

The object does not matter; the feeling does.

Buying Is Emotional Regulation:

When you’re anxious, lonely, or burnt out, your brain looks for relief. Shopping is the one thing that delivers it immediately.

 It’s the anticipation, that little dopamine hit when you click “add to cart,” is the same chemical that fires during excitement or affection.

That’s why the thrill fades once the parcel arrives. The purchase already did its job: it numbed discomfort for a moment. 

The mug, gadget, or candle was just the prop.

Crap sells because it symbolises control:

Life feels messy; in fact, life is messy. 

The world feels out of control. 

So we reach for micro-control, such as things we can fix, clean, buy, or track.

A wellness supplement makes you feel responsible, even if it does nothing. A new skincare product makes you feel in charge of your body.

Shitty products thrive in uncertain times because they give us rituals of stability.

Even a placebo control feels better than chaos.

We confuse aesthetic with authentic:

We live in a visual culture, or what marketers call the aesthetic economy.

Everything from our homes to our grief is curated. 

So we don’t just buy things we need, we buy things that look like the life we want.

Be it the clean candle, the neutral tote bag or the oat-milk aesthetic.

The product doesn’t need to perform well as long as it photographs well. 

We consume aesthetics now, not function.

That’s why brands invest more in design and language than in actual improvement. They know we buy what fits our story.

The algorithm rewards impulse:

Online shopping and social media merge the emotional and the commercial. 

You see something aspirational, you feel a micro spark of desire, and the “Buy Now” button is right there.

There’s no space for thought, only reaction, and the reaction is emotional, not rational.

The system is not broken, it’s built that way.

The placebo of progress:

Many shitty products succeed because they simulate progress. 

A new planner makes you feel productive before you’ve written anything. 

A self-help book makes you feel transformed after reading the blurb. A supplement makes you feel healthy before it even arrives.

Your brain can’t tell the difference between real progress and symbolic progress. If it feels like you’re improving, it rewards you the same way.

That’s why you keep buying the next “fix.” The emotional return is instant, even if the practical result is zero.

Meaning has become a market:

There is a bigger picture here.

We live in a culture where traditional sources of meaning, such as community, religion, and shared values, have thinned out, and brands stepped in to fill that vacuum.

Now, everything sells you a piece of identity. 

Your coffee says who you are. Your water bottle is a personality trait. Your skincare routine is a philosophy.

Shitty products sell because they promise belonging, and when real meaning is hard to find, even borrowed meaning feels good enough.

The truth about crap:

When you buy something you don’t need, you’re not being foolish, you’re being just human.

You’re soothing uncertainty with small doses of control. 

You’re turning anxiety into action. You’re trying to feel alive in a system designed to monetise feeling itself.

In the end:

We don’t buy shitty products because we’re shallow or stupid. 

We buy them because they’re easy symbols of comfort, identity, and hope.

A £70 candle isn’t just wax, it’s calm, it’s a micro-moment of peace in a chaotic world.

And in that sense, maybe the product isn’t the only thing that’s fake. 

Maybe the entire idea of “rational consumption” is.

Until next time

Akanksha