Why You Should Shop For Your Fantasy Self

At least sometimes.

When was the last time you bought a garment without understanding why? 

For me, it was in May, in Spokane. It was raining so we took shelter in a vintage shop. As I always do in well-curated vintage stores, I entered a state of ecstatic contemplation, combing through the racks of 501s with enthusiasm that bordered on indecency. My friend called my name from across the store to get my attention. 

That’s when I saw The Jacket. 

A black suede western style jacket stood on a mannequin that I had somehow missed. It had shoulders embroidered with  opalescent gray roses. Fringe lined the sleeves. The placket and yoke both had a ribbon-slot detail, with pewter rosette snap buttons. In perfect condition.

I was so excited that I ran across the store and then couldn’t slow down in time, so I knocked the mannequin over¹. I unsnapped the buttons with the urgency of a lover. I tried it on, and it fit perfectly. 

So, even though it was $150, I bought it. After all, it was everything I’ve ever wanted a jacket to be: beautiful, interesting, luxurious, feminine. It brought me intense joy.

There’s a problem: I’ve only worn it once.

This is partially because Washington summer is warm enough that I haven’t needed it. But it got me thinking about the way we respond to our fantasies by buying things. 

This was an example of buying clothing for my Fantasy Self–a phenomenon that’s been covered by many minimalist style bloggers in the last decade. YouTube in particular is full of this stuff and the algorithm has been showing it to me for years and years. I’m sure you’ve seen it. Hannah Louise Poston’s explainer is a great place to start.

In the minimalist view, you aren’t supposed to shop for your Fantasy Self because it’s too far outside the realm of what you actually wear. Everything you’ve acquired related to your fantasy self needs to be de-cluttered and discarded.

But, even though I think minimalism is cool, I think it gets the Fantasy Self stuff kind of wrong.  

I think you should shop for your Fantasy Self–at least occasionally.

Here’s why.

I promise this is not going where you think it is.  

Reason 1: We are all going to die soon. 

Keeping things nice and cheerful! But it has to be said. If the purchase is within your means–if you won’t go into debt–then there’s value and innocence in buying something beautiful on occasion just to have it. Humans have been doing this for thousands of years. We call it treasure. Birds do it, too. Don’t make a habit of it, and don’t do it with surfboards or motorbikes or other big purchases like that–but it’s fine to treat a jacket or a scarf like an artifact that you take out just to look at from time to time. Sometimes it’s good to have something you don’t use. It makes the item feel sacred.  

Reason 2: Marginalizing the Fantasy Self is a cop-out for avoiding change.

Of course, the minimalists are right that some of our Fantasy Selves are not that genuine. They can be influenced by what’s expected of us. By what we think we’re supposed to do or be. And purchases that fulfill those external expectations do always end up breeding resentment. Just ask my yoga mats. I like stylist Alyssa Beltempo’s definition of the Fantasy Self in the context of shopping: “when we shop for a lifestyle, a person, or a body that might not be ours.” And if you have a compulsive shopping habit and buy a lot of stuff you never use, then yeah, that’s a problem.

But the sticking point for me is that distrusting the Fantasy Self on principle keeps us from thinking about the possibility of changing. Implicit in the idea of the Fantasy Self—as defined in minimalism—is the notion that you’re not going to change, not really. Wear the clothing you already have for the life you’re already in. Impractical purchases are wasteful because your life isn’t going to change that much. Be realistic. The die is cast, your destiny is set.

The Fantasy Self isn’t seen as a genuine or authentic aspect of self waiting to be developed. That’s a problem to me, because I reject the notion that our identities are fixed and permanent. And you can’t change who you are without fantasizing first. Our fantasies are how we come to know what we desire. And while you might think you desire things staying just as they are—a timid, very young part of you almost certainly does—you probably want some aspect of your life to be different.

So, if there’s a pair of shoes you keep obsessing about, ask yourself: are you really that happy with your life as it is? Because maybe you’re not, you know? Maybe the desire for something impractical–like a pair of pink satin Manolos–is your unconscious communicating with you that you are not as fulfilled as you think you are. Otherwise, you’d fantasize about buying more Birkenstocks² for the life you already have.

In other words: maybe you’re bored. And I can’t blame you if you are. Look at the fucking state of things. Algorithms, working from home, the general drudgery of adult life, athleisure, aggressively grey apartments, the enshittification of every media platform, the proliferation of mediocre streaming TV shows and Marvel movies…if you play by the default settings, life is super boring right now.

It doesn’t have to be.

Reason 3: When you meet your Fantasy Self, you’re presented with a powerful hermeneutic choice. 

Yes, I know the word “hermeneutic” is not very hot. It refers to a method of interpretation³. You get to interpret the shopping fantasy. That is to say, you don’t have to take it literally and pull out your credit card. You can choose what it means to you.

You don’t have to buy the thing. Window-shopping just becomes an expedient, enjoyable way to discover your hidden unconscious desires. 

This is a subversive act, since most marketing and advertising attempts to engineer this process in reverse. We (I am a marketer and copywriter) dangle the intangibles in front of you–beauty, wealth, health, power, security, freedom, success, nostalgia, whatever–to get you to associate our product with it. To get you to buy the thing. I’m telling you that you can beat us at our own game, and discover the intangible quality that the product represents–and then go cultivate that in your life in more meaningful ways. Nobody tell my boss.

Now, let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you have a Fantasy of yourself in this dress:

You have many ways to interpret why this item appeals to you. Here are five examples.

Literal interpretation: You’re fantasizing about the dress because you like how it looks. You think you’d look good in it. So, the hermeneutic choice you make is to interpret the fantasy literally, not reading into it any deeper than that. You buy the dress. I wrote an entire essay about how often I do just that when it comes to Realisation Par.

Lifestyle interpretation: You like this dress because you have an unmet desire for fun nights out, or hot dates. When you picture yourself in it, you’re tossing back martinis with a devastatingly attracticve stranger. So, go speed dating. Download Hinge again. Tell your friends you’re ready to be set up. Join a supper club and meet new people. 

Personal development interpretation: you want to dress more showy, but don’t have the body confidence. That’s the quality you’re associating with this garment. So, start doing Brahmavihara or Tonglen meditations to authentically raise your self-esteem and give yourself and others true, heartfelt compassion. Find content creators with similar body types to you that exude confidence (and if you know any, can you share them with the rest of us in the comments?) Join Toastmasters or something else that forces you to get comfortable with attention, with taking up space. Join a dance class. Or, should you feel authentically called to make a change to your body, meet with an RD for a meal plan, or start running.

Symbolic interpretation: The color red appeals to you because you have an unconscious desire for more power, more go-getter energy in your life. Every time this dress dances into your mind’s eye, you feel a flash of hypnotic fire. So, set an ambitious goal in your professional life and work towards it every day. Do a Mars ritual. Join a competitive sport. Take up chess or martial arts. Learn how to communicate assertively.

OR

Alternate symbolic interpretation: The feminine silhouette of the dress appeals to you because you have an unconscious desire to connect with the Divine Feminine. You’d like to have more feminine energy in your life. Fabulous. Start taking luxurious baths each Friday. Do yin yoga. Start paying attention to the moon cycle and ritualize its phases. Start using the perfume sitting on your dresser. Take a digital sabbath and spend all day Saturday lounging by a body of water, eating berries and chocolate and connecting to that which is receptive, creative, dreamy, gentle, and restful.

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When the dress is just a dress, it’s not that interesting.

But when you see it like a symbol in a dream, it can mean a lot of different things. And what is a fantasy, if not a waking dream? 

Let yourself be taken in by fantasies. They’re in there for a reason. 

Hilariously, what can happen when you do that is, you create new situations and events in your life where the Fantasy Self item becomes useful after all. I am still in a phase of life where I am going on first dates (pray for me, babes) and I also joined a supper club to make new friends. I actually need beautiful dresses for going out because I use them a couple times a week. That’s why, after months of deliberation, I bought that dress shown above.

I’m also comfortable enough now with how I look that I really like wearing showy, slightly dramatic outfits. I’m okay with getting attention–I know that there may also be people who judge or resent me for showing that much leg on a Wednesday night and that’s fine. That doesn’t matter to me anymore. I don’t need to hide like I used to. My beauty, such as it is, is a gift, however comparatively modest and humble next to the true beauties of the world. Who am I to deny the world my gifts, however imperfect, however fleeting? We’re all going to die soon, people! I cannot stress this enough!

And here’s where it gets really kinky, you guys: you can also do both. You can buy the dress and interpret it as a symbol of your unconscious desires! These are not mutually exclusive! All I’m saying is, we lose a lot when we interpret the purchase impulse literally, and then discard fantasies for being “impractical.” 

The societal, epochal energy we live with is so dull, so grey, so bloodless and constricting. Start bucking the trend. 

Your assignment (if you like that kind of thing): 

The next time you encounter a garment or consumer product that makes you fantasize, write down what you see and/or feel in the fantasy. Then decide how you can interpret the fantasy without buying the thing. What is the deeper desire at work here? Name it. Then choose one task, habit, or goal related to your interpretation, and follow through with it for at least the next four weeks. Write down what happens as a result. 

Oh, and tell me how it goes, too. It’s voyeuristic of me, but I’m really fascinated by the glamorous fantasies of others. 

1. Yes, I am an Aries, you guessed correctly.

2. No shade to the Birkenstock lovers. It was just the most normcore shoe I could think of.

3. I am not doing true, full-on hermeneutics here, because that usually refers to interpreting religious or philosophical texts. I know that I’m not that well-versed in it as a schematic. I just like the idea that you can choose the meaning you make from a given situation.