Minimalism: the Perfect Number of Possessions

“The best thing is to possess pleasures without being their slave; not to be devoid of pleasures.” Aristippus, 435-356 BC

What is the perfect number of pants for a minimalist to own? I read this question on forums a lot. I’ve even typed it in the Google search engine a few times. Surely whatever I own now cannot be the ideal number.

Chasing is ingrained in us. If we are not racing to a pinnacle, it seems we are racing to a valley.

By searching for this question, I read accounts of several triumphant minimalists who manage to live with only one pair of pants.

I compared myself to these minimalists. “I have several pairs while they are fine with one… how do I declutter? Do I have too much, or too little?”

The problem for me was not that I owned too many pants, but that I felt the need to compare my belongings and standards to another’s. That I felt the need to move one direction or another to fix my relationship with things.

Ironically, such a mindset stems from the same source as maximalism. It involves a chase, and it presumes that one’s current state of being cannot be satisfactory.

A chase for less is as pointless as a chase for more if the parasite that is the consumerist mindset is not removed from the host. Because ironically, chasing places one’s thoughts on the very thing that shouldn’t be prioritized: stuff.

What is the perfect number of pants to own? The answer is what I have now, unless what I have now is causing legitimate life issues. Maybe what I have isn’t sufficient for work, or isn’t acceptable for my social gatherings, or simply doesn’t fit anymore. Then it’s time for a replacement. And the replacement should be affordable, and intentional, and used to the bitter end.

I consider myself “maximal” only in that I like to enjoy ”stuff”. I have summer pants that are breezy and winter pants that are cozy. I have loose pants and slim fitting pants. I have pants for winter running and cycling. I’ve used every pair. At the end of the day, it’s just fabric.

The perfect number of pants will be different for each person. The nomad living from a backpack may answer, “one”. I’ve been that nomad. The banker with a wardrobe of business suits may answer, “fifteen”. The point is the function, not the quantity. I’ve been closer to that lifestyle as well.

My purchases are intentional enough, so I don’t think about the number of things in my closet. I am not an ascetic, nor do I find asceticism alluring in any way. It is true that the things we own can enslave us if we let them, but they can also enhance us if their primary use is to help us go places.

The key, for me, is a shift in mindset away from a common “minimalist” branding that focuses on quantity (“check out my empty room, is yours this empty?”) and more towards an objective mindset that focuses on efficiency. If “stuff” serves a purpose, let it serve. I’d rather be served than serve another; serving something material sounds like hell.

Of note is that one’s base level of happiness does not seem to increase from the act of being served, or from the peacocking of one’s own status. It is a dopamine rush, an injection of heroin, and it does feel good for a moment. But the drug depletes quickly, and the depletion rate accelerates over time. In contrast, being enslaved, or in service, or indebted, will always exacerbate one’s base level of misery.

Base happiness seems to grow more like a tree, requiring carefully planted seeds, a steady yet moderate amount of water, and a lot of time.

At some point, we will think about our stuff. Maybe we have to consider our possessions in order to resolve a deeper issue within ourselves. In considering our possessions we ask ourselves, are we actually using our purchases or letting them collect dust? If a coating of dust forms on our shirts, if moths eat away at our sweaters, then our purchases were obviously not intentional. Why? What part of advertisements was it that sucked us in? Are we chasing a pinnacle or enjoying a process?

The key, for me, is to avoid a chase, whether it be up or down, left or right, forward or backward. Stay put, enjoy what’s here.

“The white rabbit is a slave to the queen.” - Tom Hodgkinson

Minimalist or Maximalist?

“Everywhere, the same myth is perpetuated: you are just one object away from happiness.” - Tom Hodgkinson

I have an itch for more. It’s in my DNA, and it’s probably in your DNA too. It’s a rash that Western civilization evolved to have, as it keeps the cycle of constant consumption perpetuating. The rash must remain. Purchasing more products will temporarily alleviate the rash, but the rash will never heal.

I also have an itch for less. I wish for less stuff, but mostly I wish for less noise. Due to the advent of the current Techno oligopoly, companies are constantly in my ear. So long as my smartphone is near me, I am allowing companies to track me and manipulate me with their advertisements. I turn on my phone and Google tracks my browsing to determine products I want to buy. I log into Instagram and advertisements invade my feed. “Tag our company and become part of our community,” they beseech.

I find myself convinced, largely by these companies, that there is something lacking in my life. I have a problem and it is dire. Luckily there is a product out there, somewhere out there, that can solve this problem. Solving it might be a matter of life and death. After all, to lack complete security is to risk the abyss.

Despite modern consumerism getting out of hand, I am not a minimalist. I don’t have much interest in discovering how little I can live with. I believe materials can matter. Boots with lining keep our feet warm in winter. Waterproof clothing allows us to bike in storms without getting sick.

Stuff can also be a reward for hard work. Sometimes said stuff is worth owning. My bicycle keeps me fit, healthy, and happy. My Xero Z-trail sandals allow me to run, bike, travel, and walk with almost no weight on my feet and without a need for socks. Linen pants allow my legs to breathe in the hot and humid summer.

I am not a true ascetic because I am not a derelict, trapped with only the things on his or her body, left the the arbitrary conditions of the environment. That is suffering, and I’m not interested in that when I have a choice.

I do not want to avoid materials altogether. I want to avoid vanity. I am interested in living efficiently, not minimally. There is a difference. Living efficiently does not necessarily mean racing to the bottom or striving for a mostly-empty closet. It means being conscious of purchases and aware of the constant manipulation companies put us through. It means choosing, but choosing wisely, and recognizing what brings you value.

Living efficiently does not require a complete rejection of stuff. When I buy something, I want the quality to be as high as possible. I want use out of it. I’d prefer my winter and summer pants to have substantially different fabrics, rather than be trapped with just one fabric for both seasons.

If an object brings aids the wellbeing of my life, it is of value. What aids ones wellbeing is a subjective matter.

I am not interested in cosmetics or fragrances, but you might be. I’m also not interested in owning a lot of art pieces because it can often be appreciated just by seeing it. I’m not interested in driving because cycling is more fun. But I do like a t-shirt that doesn’t get too clammy in the summer.

Some might consider me a minimalist, but I often regard myself as a maximalist. It’s just a matter of maximizing ones hobbies and minimizing the rest.