Photo by Henry & Co. on Unsplash

Ever notice how everything looks and feels kind of “minimalist” these days?

Between the recent rise of deconstructed corporate logos to Instagram-worthy interior spaces, hipster-chic clothing, Apple tech products, and the empty white pages of the mobile-friendly web, it seems the minimalist aesthetic is, ironically, everywhere.

And if social media is anything to go by, it seems like everybody who is somebody is in on the whole thing too. All the cool kids are either living out of their neutral-colored backpacks as “digital nomads”, spending their day “living among nature” in the woods, or wading through big, empty, beautiful houses overlooking the streets below.

It’s enough to inspire an urgent desire to spring clean your home or throw out your most treasured possessions.

It’s enough to make you envious.

Speaking as someone who could be considered a minimalist by some accounts, I’d like to think that most of this minimalist uptake is a net positive. Perhaps the required antidote for the consumer culture wreaking havoc on our lives and climate.

But is today’s minimalism really a rejection of all that “stuff” making us miserable and the planet sick? Or is it just consumerism of a different kind? A new product for the privileged to play with and for the rest of us to pine after?

The rise of new minimalism

Photo by Bench Accounting on Unsplash

What are we talking about when we talk about minimalism? Another irony concerning minimalism is that it can refer to many things, from different philosophies and practices to architectural and art styles to various forms of asceticism.

Sometimes minimalism is framed as a reaction to consumerism. Other times it’s more about objects — where we keep them, how they affect our moods, and whether they “spark joy.” On other occasions, minimalism is presented as a kind of productivity hack, as if it were a secret barrier between the ultra-rich and the disorganized masses.