From buy-now-pay-later schemes to constant sales and doorstep deliveries, modern Nigerians are consuming faster than ever—but are we genuinely fulfilled, or just caught in a loop of endless wanting dressed up as progress?
There was a time when shopping in Nigeria had rhythm. It followed paydays, festive seasons, and milestone moments. Buying something new was a reward, not a reflex. But those days feel distant. Today, consumption is constant—clicks, carts, and deliveries are the new pulse of modern life. Welcome to the era of hyper-consumerism, where spending has become less about need and more about habit, status, and emotional escapism.
Across Nigeria’s urban centres, especially Lagos and Abuja, hyper-consumerism is no longer limited to shopping malls or e-commerce apps. It’s baked into our homes, wardrobes, and psyches. Open the average Nigerian’s closet, and you’ll find more clothes than hangers and more shoes than feet could ever wear. Perfume bottles line up like soldiers on dressers. Bags are stacked, many still with tags on. It’s not about lack of awareness—we know we’re doing it. But stopping feels harder than we’d like to admit.
The irony is that even minimalism has become a trend to consume. There’s a new market for curated restraint—capsule wardrobes that still cost a fortune, or neutral-toned lifestyle aesthetics that signal self-discipline but require a great deal of spending to achieve. So whether it’s maximalism or minimalism, luxury or thrift, we’re still shopping—endlessly.
The reasons are layered. One is the emotional high—what behavioural scientists refer to as a dopamine loop. The anticipation of a new delivery, the illusion of control, and the temporary satisfaction of having something new all combine into a cycle that’s hard to break. With the rise of digital platforms, we’re constantly exposed to new products, lifestyle aspirations, and social comparisons. Algorithms do not just know what we like; they predict our next weakness.
Social media, particularly Instagram and TikTok, have turned consumption into theatre. The unboxing. The “get ready with me.” The weekend market run. The subtle pan across a designer label during a morning routine video. These are all curated moments of identity-building—and the pressure to keep up is very real. Not participating in the churn can feel like being left behind.
But it’s not just outside influence. Many of us have internalised consumption as a form of progress. We equate acquiring with arriving. And when the country feels chaotic—when governance is unreliable and the future uncertain—purchases become a coping mechanism. If everything else is out of your control, at least you can control what you wear, spray, or carry.
This hyper-consumerist mindset extends beyond fashion. Homes are now cluttered with unused kitchen gadgets, stacks of décor items from discount stores, unopened skincare kits, and duplicated electronics. Every new interior trend demands a change—buying rattan today, marble tomorrow. We’re constantly tweaking, upgrading, rebranding.
Yet beneath all this abundance, there’s a hollowness. A quiet fatigue. Despite the volume of things, satisfaction remains elusive. That’s the paradox: the more we buy, the less fulfilled we seem to feel.
So what’s the way forward?
First, we need to acknowledge that consumption is now deeply tied to identity in a way that previous generations didn’t experience. Our parents bought for utility. We buy to be seen. Breaking that linkage requires a mindset shift—recognising that style, taste, and confidence are not always connected to novelty or volume.
Second, we need to normalise re-use. Not just re-wearing outfits, but rotating items in our homes, restyling spaces, even swapping with friends. There’s no shame in showing up in the same outfit twice. In fact, that should be the flex—knowing how to make the most out of what you already own.
Retailers and influencers also need to evolve. Rather than pushing endless new drops, there’s space for brands that promote durability, timelessness, and thoughtful consumption. Nigerian designers in particular have the opportunity to lead this conversation, championing craftsmanship and value over trend-chasing.
Finally, there’s the power of the pause. Before each purchase—pause. Ask: Do I need this, or am I just numbing a feeling? Will this bring joy beyond this week? Or am I simply caught in the loop?
None of this is to say that consumption is inherently bad. In fact, Nigeria’s creative and consumer sectors are some of the most vibrant in Africa. Supporting them is vital. But the challenge—and opportunity—is to be more intentional. To consume with awareness, not addiction.
Because at some point, we have to ask: are we really in control of our choices—or just being led by an algorithm and an invisible hunger for more?
Maybe it’s time we start curating not just our wardrobes and feeds—but our habits. Maybe the next wave of luxury isn’t owning more—but choosing wisely, living lighter, and learning to find satisfaction in enough.
