She Strengthens

The Facade of Minimalism: A Luxury Good Disguised as a Moral Imperative

The Aesthetics of Privilege

Minimalism, as a personal style choice, has become a tedious performance art in our society. The hyper-curated, all-white-everything lifestyle, meticulously crafted to convey a sense of chic, is nothing more than a reflection of one’s ability to afford the luxury of simplicity. It’s a way of aping the connotations of simplicity and asceticism without actually having to sacrifice those coveted class signifiers.

The Cost of Simplicity

Reducing one’s wardrobe to a few, painfully elegant cashmere-cotton blend tops requires a significant upfront investment. The visual cues of moral superiority, the “no-makeup makeup” look achieved with $250 worth of Glossier products, and the vaguely Japanese home decor all scream “I have enough money to choose not to.” It’s a form of conspicuous consumption, a way of saying, “Look at me! Look at all the things I have refused to buy, and the incredibly expensive, sparse items I have deemed worthy instead!”

The Faux-Spiritualism of Minimalism

The past decade has sold us a peculiar answer to our hyper-consumerist late capitalism: minimalism as a secular religion. By paring down one’s life, one is supposedly guaranteed to appreciate what remains more and pick up some profound wisdom in the process. This vague, ever-shifting philosophy accommodates individual tastes and stomachs for consistency, implying a level of moral superiority over those who haven’t “found enlightenment” through radical decluttering and simplification.

The Privilege of Choice

The implication of this kind of minimalism is glaringly obvious: only those with the means can truly practice it. You can’t choose to declutter if you’re already living in a sparse home you can’t afford to furnish. You can’t reduce your food consumption if you’re struggling to put one good meal on the table per day. When nearly half of Americans would be unable to pay their bills if they missed a single check, this “forced minimalism” is far more common than we’d like to imagine.

A Competition of Privilege

This spiritual minimalism has become yet another competition for who can be the best at whatever they’ve chosen, even if that means having less stuff. It’s an aesthetic choice reframed as a moral one, conveniently ignoring the class angles. The things we’re being told to eliminate from our lives – makeup, elaborate wardrobes, cozy home decor, art, and hobbies – are often the things women accumulate.

A Superficial Style

At its core, minimalism is just another style, as superficial as anything else that might come down the runway at Fashion Week. It’s a luxury good disguised as a moral imperative, with an added layer of condescension. We shouldn’t kid ourselves: this kind of “minimalism” is just another product that wealthy people can buy.