Dollar store woes

In my life as a parent, there is no retail hell quite as visceral as taking my children to the Dollar store. It's a fate I try hard to skirt, avoiding the places like the plague that they are. They are just so full of constant temptation for children-balloons, obnoxious holiday decor, sparkly crap, plastic toy wonderlands, and cavity inducing treats. And it doesn't take a 6 year old long to figure out just how cheap $1 is compared to normal shopping experiences. Because of the toll it takes on my psyche we rarely go to the Dollar store, but every major holiday seems to chip away at my resolve and we always end up there for something random-this Halloween it was glow sticks for trick or treating. So the dollar store conundrum is fresh on my mind.

I really don't think dollar stores are responsible for cultural decay, but I'm not joking when I say that I think places like it have contributed directly to it. I think All A Dollar, Big Lots, and the like have done a lot to harm our mindset as a culture, and especially our consumer culture, so central to the American way of life. The value we place on goods is irretriveably altered when we pay only $1 for them. We don't expect much out of the product's design, we don't expect it to exude taste, we aren't supporting the labor market that produced the product, and we certainly don't expect it to last. I have issue with all of these things going by the wayside, but encouraging disposability is to me really egregious. I bet 50% of land fills are now filled with the broken down rejects someone bought at the freaking dollar store! Trust me, I tried this summer, and it is hard to unload the stuff at a garage sale, let alone have it hang around for years in your own closet.

Last summer I read an awesome book called Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture. It was an enlightening read about the global practices behind producing goods cheaply and the psychology of how good deals and cheap goods have infiltrated our consumer experience and mentality. The book depressed me on a lot of levels--thinking of the plight of the foreign worker making silly products for hours on end that no one needs in dangerous conditions is a hard pill to swallow-but the thing that really struck me most was the way cheap goods have changed our expectations of products and therefore our expectation of workmanship and quality. It is frightening to think that we have traded in the concept of heirloom quality for sheer quantity or the hope of a larger bank balance in exchange for inexpensive goods.

Being married to a craftsman, someone who can build actual useable things from scratch, I've learned the value of creating by hand. I've seen the work it takes to produce a chair from a hunk of wood, and it is something so hard to put a price on. It's someone's time, sure, but it's also someone's knowledge and someone's pride in what they produce. It is intensely personal work to make something by hand. And it's that sense of the personal that sets the creation apart from mass production goods. Anyone can buy a dresser from IKEA and save a bundle but is there a story behind the item, a point of view, other than how cheap it was or the frustration of putting it together?! Can you name something you own that you feel you would want to pass on to your children? Why do you feel this way about it? What sets it apart from everything else you own? I'm willing to wager you aren't looking at something you bought at IKEA or the Dollar store.

Things that we truly value are priceless. Literally. You cannot put a dollar figure on them and yet that is the only criteria shoppers use when perusing the aisles of dollar store establishments. "But it's so cheap!" "Can you believe this is only a dollar?" And that's exactly the mentality that gets all of us. These places thrive because it feels good to get a big bang out of a little buck. A 6 year old feels it, we feel it. It's a difficult thing to combat and a very difficult thing to say no to, especially in tight times like these. But I think it's worth considering the impact buying cheap has on us as a culture and on us as a personal consumer.

I've accepted my impact politically and socially as a consumer, but I'm not willing to accept the classic American consumer moniker if it means increasing trash, not treasure, on the planet. If we as Americans are consumers above all, let's be good ones. Let's elevate our possessions to being bastions of good taste, design, sustainability, and personality. Ghandi's old saying "we must be the change we wish to see in the world" was surely never meant for consumer practices, but I'm convinced there isn't a more political, or aesthetic- altering, stand we can take as a culture. I think we could change the fabric of culture more quickly by refusing to buy cheap than by the ballot box. It's an interesting power to wield, the power of the wallet, and definitely something worth our thoughtful attention when making those purchases that make the world, our world, go round.

p.s. The author of Cheap was interviewed on Radio West last year. I seriously heart our local radio west situation, and this episode is a great one hour program on all these topics and more. Give the podcast a listen if you can!