By Jocelyn Green

From Coach to Swarovski, the shops at Tyson’s Corner Center in McLean, Va., simply sparkle. The scents of leather, suede, silk, perfume and body lotions mingle with the aromas of Starbucks and Cinnabon. For some, it’s an intoxicating experience.

Rippling through the shoppers are symptoms of a common condition. They feel discontent, depressed, inferior and even irrelevant until they emerge from a store with something new. The urge to buy is almost uncontrollable. The rustling of tissue paper at the checkout counter acts as an aphrodisiac. The cha-ching of the cash register seems to announce, like a game show bell, “Congratulations! You’re a winner!”

The flicker of satisfaction quickly fades from the shoppers’ faces. They are second-guessing whether their purchases will deliver on the promise to impress others and bring greater quality of life. Can a new pair of jeans do that? Can shoes? What if no one even notices?

The thrilling taste of conquest turns stale by the time they reach the parking garage. Once at home, elation gives way to doubt - and an unquenchable thirst for more.

These shoppers are suffering from affluenza.

Affluenza, a term coined by author John De Graaf, is “a painful, contagious, socially transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety and waste resulting from the dogged pursuit of more.” It’s a national epidemic.

We don’t have to be bona fide shopoholics to recognize symptoms of affluenza in ourselves every now and then. So be wary. It’s an empty habit that leaves us just as unfulfilled as we felt before, except now we’re that much poorer.

Swollen Expectations
Madison Avenue insists that we are entitled to “more,” when in reality, Americans are far wealthier than the vast majority of the rest of the world. Nonetheless, most ad campaigns tell us that’s not enough.

Cosmetics companies tell us we’re “worth it,” and Target’s latest TV commercial is set to the repetitive jingle, “A little bit more, a little bit more.” My personal favorite in the category of blatant appeal to vanity is the magazine ad for “The New Diamond Right Hand Ring” which reads: “Your left hand says ‘we.’ Your right hand says ‘me.’”

Not many of us would be persuaded to buy diamond rings based on that ad. However, ads like these make it seem much more reasonable to buy other, lesser things. The problem is, we often don’t need those either.

When I noticed that my plastic plates and cups were scratched I decided it was time to upgrade to Tupperware. I hopped online and before I knew it, I had thrown $117 worth of matching plates and cups into my virtual shopping cart. Affluenza had just bitten me again.

Prettier plates and cups would not make the food taste any better nor would they stimulate better dinner conversation (especially with the resident one-year old). What I was really going for was a better image.

Image may be everything in the world of advertising, but you and I live in the world of real life with real people. In this world, authenticity, not image, is everything.

While there’s nothing wrong with shopping - we all need to do it - there is something wrong when the pursuit of more or better things crowds out the pursuit of relationships and personal growth. Sure, you could be known as the woman with all the coolest kitchen tools or the latest technology or the most pairs of shoes or fill in your obsession, but wouldn’t you rather be known for something deeper? Think how much more fulfilling it would be to be known, instead, for your grace, hospitality, strength or wisdom.