It's okay. It's "just" weed

by an anonymous student

“You want to have a really good Thanksgiving?” my cousin said to me about 20 minutes before my mom started to put the food on the table. I was 14 and had seen my cousin smoke bowls out of her window time and time again. It wasn’t the frst time she ofered, but it was the frst time I accepted. And from then on, it was a normal thing.

It wasn’t until two years later that I started having my own supply, but even before that, looking back, I had a problem with weed. The worst part is you don't know you have a problem until it gets bad.

For me, it was mostly because it was “just” weed. All my life, teachers, counselors and all kinds of adults demonize drugs (rightfully so), but they always said that weed is just a gateway drug. I’ve seen people become addicted to much worse, so having a problem with weed sounded stupid to me. It made me feel as though I could never really have a problem with it.

That way of thinking justifed my addiction to me, and to this day I have trouble justifying my sobriety because it’s “just” weed. Even when I was in the depths of it all, barely cognizant most days, grades dropping, my family worrying, barely leaving my room, it was all fne. Because it was “just” weed. It even got to a point where I couldn’t even tell if I was sober or not. The come down would be too much, too confusing, so to clear it all up, I would just smoke again.

But even then, I didn’t think I had a problem. My family made me stop, and while I resented them for it, it wasn’t until then that I realized I had a problem. I didn’t want to be sober. Being sober meant I had to deal with myself– with my thoughts, with my mistakes, with everything I deemed wrong about myself. When I was high, I forgot about all of it. The only thing in my head was stupid jokes (for example, one time I came up with a theory that Hellen Keller was just a decoy made by the government to cover up Dobby from Harry Potter's existence). But I felt they were better alternatives to self criticism.

Two weeks ago I hit a year sober, and there are still times I would prefer the drugs over my own well-being. I know being sober is what's best for me, but I still don’t like it. If the consequences and the paranoia weren't there, if I could just get high and forget about it all, I would. It’s not good, I know that. I know that I have a problem, but I wish I just didn’t. But I also cannot ignore how far I have come without weed weighing me down. Being sober is the best decision that I’ve ever made, whether I like it or not.

Ifound the perfect dress for winter formal. It was an asymmetrical gown with fve tiered layers of chifon—the prettiest shade of rose pink I’d ever seen. A sleeveless bodice. Just my size.

And it cost $1,700.

I did not buy the dress. But it got me thinking about the fve other formal dresses in my closet: two black, one wine red, another electric blue and one from last year’s prom. I realized that by the end of senior year, my closet will hold at least eight dresses from all of the functions I’ve attended, and my brother wore the same shirt, shoes and blazer combo for every single dance. Between the two of us, I’ll give you one guess whose closet has the higher price tag.

Let’s face it: dances are expensive. Regardless of what you wear, there are ticket and transportation costs, be it the cost of the bus you’re renting with friends or gas money for the Shell next to Vons. But the ensemble is an entirely diferent story. For girls, it’s more than likely that you spent time agonizing over what dress to wear and the hair, shoes and fawless eyeshadow look to go with it. You’re seeing a Pinterest board; I’m seeing dollar signs.

The biggest diference between feminine and masculine formal wear (price wise) is that masculine clothing is an investment. With two suits, two shirts and one pair of dress shoes, a guy can make four diferent outfts for any number of occasions. Feminine formal wear is diferent—especially for high school dances—because it is highly unlikely that a girl will wear the same dress to two diferent dances. That is not to say that certain dresses can’t be worn more than once; I’ve styled one dress at least three diferent ways after I wore it to formal last year. Yet not every piece is versatile. Especially if the purchase is bought with a specifc theme in mind, the likelihood that you’ll fnd another event to wear that foor-length, navy-blue, constellation-themed gown is slim to none.

If you don’t want to spend $1,700 on a dress you’ll only wear once, the Internet’s favorite fast fashion brands have got you covered. Companies like SHEIN, Princess Polly and Lucy in the Sky have dresses starting as low as $20, with aesthetic designs that are so cute your Instagram comment section will be full of fre emojis and all-caps messages telling you how STUNNING you look.

The catch: those dresses are products from companies with labor law violations and contribute to the fast fashion cycle. According to a November 2021 report from the Swiss research organization Public Eye, Shein employees work over 75 hours a week with no contract, health benefts, overtime pay or regular days of. (The labor laws in China, where SHEIN is largely based, dictate a 40hour week with a maximum of 36 hours overtime and one day of rest per week.)

The thousands of garments they produce satisfy weekly fashion cycles, churning out clothing that lasts four wears until, inevitably, it falls apart. The plasticky material and its packaging end up in landflls–sparkling, shimmering reminders of that one prom afterparty discarded like a torn Polaroid.

by Rena Felde

The urge to improve our lives with ceaseless shopping is destructive.

According to the US Bureau of Economic Analysis, consumer spending in America reached an all time high during 2022, at $14 trillion. With mainstream trends and constant exposure to advertisements, it’s no wonder why our wallets and spirits are left empty. Mass consumerism, exacerbated by TikTok and YouTube haul culture, leads to pitfalls in our fnances, environment and peace of mind.

Since the inception of social media, apps like YouTube, TikTok and Instagram have harbored trends, introducing new styles and products to society. An example of a trend is “curated identities:” niche aesthetics that often entail a specifc clothing style or lifestyle. Aesthetics such as “that girl,” “dark academia,” “cottage core” and “granola” all encourage viewers to buy unnecessary products to ft that aesthetic.

Seeing TV advertisements or hearing an ad in your favorite podcast are easily identifable as marketing, but a commonly overlooked form of advertisement is infuencers and trends. With infuencers’ romanticized lifestyles, viewers want to achieve the same look or style and will purchase items like jewelry, shoes, clothes, tech and makeup to achieve this end. Though “get ready with me” videos are entertaining, they constantly feature non-essential beauty and health products, and give the illusion to her viewers that they can achieve a lifestyle like hers by buying the products she uses. The identities that infuencers encourage the average consumer to purchase unsustainable amounts of products to try and live like the unrealistic TikToks and Instagram posts they see.

Along the same lines, YouTube and TikTok hauls push the narrative that there is always something new to buy. I’m not saying you should only spend money on essentials and never splurge—I agree it’s nice to treat yourself—but not every week. Saving your money for a higher quality product and delaying gratifcation is much more rewarding. To make a general statement, mass consumption roots from personal desire, social pressures and status signaling.

The more we scroll and interact with our devices, the more data social media and search engines obtain from us. With the collection of our liked videos and creators we follow, algorithms are able to recommend exactly the content, hauls and aesthetics we want to see, which intrigues us with products and lifestyles to buy into. The desire for necessities like shelter and food are inherent human traits, but modern marketing invokes an insatiable hunger for nonessential products.

Purchasing power lies at our fngertips, so through services like Amazon, Doordash, Postmates and other online vendors, consumers no longer have to fnd time to travel to stores, look through aisles and wait in line; spending money is now done with a double click, a tap on your screen, or sometimes even just with Face ID. With this ultra-efcient process, we get instant dopamine hits and money seems so much less valuable since we aren’t physically counting cash or swiping a credit card.

As a teen girl who spent hours on TikTok every day for months, I have seen more than my fair share of products I “have to buy” and heard too many people enthusiastically say, “TikTok made me buy it.” I was constantly immersed in fashion fabs, home decor and tech trends that eventually faded away after a few weeks or so.

To address the environmental aspect of consumerism, it is obvious that mass

by Lucy Davis

The other option is to thrift. The South Bay has six diferent Goodwills, stocked with dresses waiting to be revived. The condition in this case is that few dresses come of the rack ready to wear: mending, hemming, detail work and adjustments may be needed to restore the dresses to their former glory. Not everyone has the expertise or time for that kind of project (I certainly don’t.) In a best case scenario, combing through racks of clothes at multiple different locations takes time, even on the of chance that the perfect dress is waiting to be found.

Now is the time to imagine my resigned sigh as I realize that I still need to worry about my hair, nails, shoes and makeup. So trivial. So expensive.

Which is why, more and more, I realize that it’s okay to compromise. I skipped homecoming this year because I didn’t want to fnd a new dress–instead, I stayed home and watched "Star Wars" with my dad. I’m using a hand-me-down for formal tomorrow. Some of my friends are going all out—more power to them—but at the end of the day, the night is going to be out of this world, no matter what I wear or how much (or little) it costs.

consumption comes at the detriment to our planet. According to the United States Environmental Protection Agency, the average American throws away around 81 pounds of clothes and textiles every year.

Knowing the drawbacks of consumerism, we often seek eco-labels like “natural” and “good for the planet,” but that is really just another type of marketing.

The tree-hugging, nature-loving aesthetic preaches sustainability so consumers within that aesthetic may opt for eco-labels and products deemed “good for the planet.” But, labels of that sort only feed into our delusion that even though we’re purchasing a lot, “at least it’s sustainable.” I’d like to stop you right there. No matter how clean, renewable and “green” your purchase is, only buying essentials in the frst place is your best, most sustainable option.

On top of that, actively think about whether the product is a want or a need. Challenge yourself to endure the utterly horrendous struggle of not being on trend for a few weeks. Observe the money you save and your self awareness growing, perhaps saving yourself from buyer’s remorse in the process. Marketers, which currently take the most prominent form as social media infuencers, distort teens’ social development because they encourage us to tie our self-value to brands and base our identity on products. Awareness of this damaging mindset can break that cycle.

Unfortunately, young adult culture is centered around being on-trend and often trying to prove yourself to others, usually through materialistic means, so falling into mass consumption is almost a given. Throughout this new year, practice fnding joy and excitement in things that don’t involve purchasing, but rather creating or experiencing.