Haul

When I was a kid we’d drive to the ‘big smoke’ (Mildura) once a year to do our Christmas shopping.
 
For my mum shopping was a social event.
 
She’d meet up with her friends. She’d try things on. And, if the sales assistant did a good job on her, she might even pop it on laybuy (stuff was expensive back then).

And while my mum was having the time of her life, my old man was … standing out the front of the shop. The thought of going into an airconditioned shop for a bit of a ‘looky look’ never crossed his mind. So he either stood in the 40 degree heat reading the newspaper, or made small talk with the other dads that were doing the same thing.
 
Isn’t that outdated with a side serving of sexism?
 
Sure, but that was my childhood.
 
Twenty years later, the internet changed shopping forever.
 
It went from being a real-world social event to a solitary pastime. There is no friction, no waiting, no talking, and an unlimited range of everything. You buy (often with Afterpay), enticed by free shipping, knowing that you can simply send it back if it doesn’t fit. The internet essentially became a giant shopping mall, and there was a sale happening all the time. (Next week: Black Friday … followed by Cyber Monday. Ho, Ho Ho!)
 
Yet in the last few years shopping has gone Tik Tok on us.
 
The fastest growing retailers on the planet right now are Temu and Shein.  
 
Here’s the model: they sell outrageously cheap junk direct from factories in China (essentially they make it on demand) and deliver it to your door in a throwaway plastic bag.
 
And this week Amazon joined the fray by launching their very own copycat service called Haul.
 
“Say hello to crazy low prices: unbelievable finds $20 and under”, the banner says on the Haul app (though Amazon has said that most of their junk – my term – will be priced under $10, and some under $1).
 
And in doing so they have announced a new chapter in retailing:
 
Shopping is now a form of gambling.
 
Yes, gambling.
 
On Temu you can buy three outfits for $20. An entire dinner set for $8. An iPhone charger for $1.25.
 
And when you hit ‘buy’, you’re taking a gamble:
 
You know it’ll likely break, it’ll be dodgy, or the sizing will be way off.
 
Yet if you wear even a couple of items from your haul, that’s a win, right?
 
And because it’s all so incredibly cheap you’re not going to bother sending it back.
 
Anyway, I spent some time on the site, and here’s my shopping review:
 
It’s the shopping equivalent of MAFS.
 
You don’t need anything on this site. You’ll be dumber for buying it. Like MAFS it’s just plastic junk designed to drill your dopamine and leave you unsatisfied.
 
And it’s also terrible for the environment.
 
Here’s the lifecycle:
 
It goes from some factory in China, to your joint, to your cupboard, to your big red bin, and then to the bottom of Sydney Harbour (or wherever those garbo trucks go).
 
Tread Your Own Path!