Retail therapy: Do shops sell us things — or dreams?

There is a particular pleasure in buying something new.

It might be a pair of shoes, a television, a barbecue, a handbag, a new phone or something considerably more expensive.

For a little while, the world seems fractionally improved.

The package arrives. The box is opened. The protective film is peeled away. The new object takes its place in our lives.

And then something rather inconvenient happens.

Life continues.

The same work is waiting. The same bills arrive. The same kitchen needs cleaning. Monday morning remains stubbornly Monday morning.

The possession is new.

We are, largely, the same person.

So is retail therapy actually a thing?

The expression is usually said with a smile.

Someone has had a difficult week and announces that a little retail therapy is required.

There is some logic behind it. Shopping involves anticipation, choice and reward. It can provide a diversion from routine and, particularly when the purchase is affordable, a harmless moment of pleasure.

There is also satisfaction in improving something.

Replacing an uncomfortable chair with a good one really can improve daily life. Buying clothes that fit properly can make someone feel better. A new bicycle might lead to more exercise. A barbecue may genuinely produce more Sunday lunches with friends.

Not every purchase is an illusion.

But retail therapy becomes more interesting when we consider what we thought we were buying.

The object and the imagined life

Walk through a furniture showroom and you are not simply looking at furniture.

You are looking at rooms.

Perfect rooms.

The dining table does not have yesterday's mail sitting on it. Nobody has left a coffee cup beside the sofa. There are no cables, school bags, dog toys or mysterious objects waiting to be put away.

The room represents an idea of domestic life.

Buy this furniture and perhaps, somewhere in the imagination, we buy a little of that life as well.

Car advertising has understood this for generations.

The vehicle may spend most of its existence travelling to work, school and the supermarket, but advertisements are more likely to show an empty coastal road, a mountain landscape or a sophisticated city at night.

The manufacturer is selling a motor vehicle.

The advertising is selling the possibility of escape.

Fashion works much the same way.

We need clothes, of course. But beyond necessity, clothing can offer an imagined version of ourselves — younger, smarter, more successful, more adventurous or simply more put together.

Even the humble outdoor shop can sell a magnificent future.

There are tents for expeditions we may never undertake, boots capable of crossing mountains we have no intention of climbing and jackets engineered for weather considerably worse than anything we are likely to encounter.

Yet buying them can be enjoyable because for a moment we are purchasing not merely equipment, but possibility.

Retailers understand aspiration

This does not necessarily make retail deceptive.

Good retailers understand something quite fundamental about human beings: we don't always purchase according to what we are today.

Sometimes we purchase according to who we would like to become.

The kitchen appliance belongs to the future person who cooks more.

The exercise equipment belongs to the future person who gets fit.

The expensive luggage belongs to the future traveller.

The enormous television belongs to the future household that apparently spends every evening enjoying cinematic masterpieces together.

And occasionally those things help create exactly that future.

Occasionally the exercise bike becomes a very expensive clothes rack.

Such is retail therapy.

The excitement has a short life

One of the peculiar characteristics of possessions is how rapidly the extraordinary becomes ordinary.

The new car eventually becomes the car.

The new phone becomes the phone.

The new lounge becomes the lounge.

Something that occupied hours of research and considerable anticipation can, remarkably quickly, become part of the background scenery of life.

That doesn't mean buying it was a mistake.

It simply demonstrates how adaptable we are.

Yesterday's luxury has an extraordinary ability to become today's normality.

Which may explain why another purchase eventually starts looking interesting.

Perhaps anticipation is part of the product

There is another possibility.

Maybe part of what we are buying is the anticipation itself.

Looking, comparing, researching, choosing and finally ordering something can be entertaining.

For a few days there is something coming.

Anyone who has checked the progress of a parcel several times despite knowing perfectly well that it will not arrive until tomorrow understands the phenomenon.

The object has not yet arrived, but it is already providing enjoyment.

Retailers certainly know the power of anticipation.

Product launches, limited editions, pre-orders, sales events and beautifully presented stores all turn purchasing into an experience rather than a simple transaction.

The dream begins before the credit card appears.

And then reality returns

There is nothing particularly wrong with any of this.

Humans have always decorated themselves, improved their homes, collected possessions and enjoyed acquiring beautiful or useful things.

Commerce would be a rather grim affair if everything were purchased purely according to necessity.

The useful question may simply be whether we recognise the difference between buying something we want and expecting it to change something it cannot.

A new dining table can improve a room.

It cannot make the people sitting around it happier.

A new car can make a journey more comfortable.

It cannot decide where our life is going.

A new wardrobe can change how we look.

It cannot completely change how we feel about ourselves.

Those jobs remain stubbornly unavailable at the checkout.

The Times View

Retail therapy is real in the modest sense that buying something can provide pleasure, anticipation and sometimes a genuine improvement to everyday life.

Retailers also sell something less tangible.

Possibility.

The advertisements, showrooms and carefully constructed images allow us to glimpse a slightly better version of our homes, our adventures and sometimes ourselves.

There is nothing wrong with enjoying the dream.

Just remember what comes in the box.

We can buy things that improve our lives. It is considerably harder to buy a different life.