The Minimalist Trap: When Less Is Just a Vibe

A cleaner aesthetic has tricked us into thinking we’re consuming more thoughtfully. Fewer logos, neutral palettes, streamlined silhouettes. Surely that means we’re slowing down, right?

Not always. Minimalism has been co-opted by the same industry that pushes excess. We’re still buying at the same rate, just in beige. The visual language of “slowness” doesn’t mean we’re buying less; it just looks that way.

In reality, minimalism is the master of disguise, fueling consumption through overproduction and masking harmful production practices and synthetics through decluttered visuals. 

MINIMALISM VS CONSCIOUS CONSUMPTION

What is minimalism, and does the aesthetic of less equate to embracing conscious consumption? 

The definition of minimalism by Cambridge is “a style in art, design, and theatre that uses the smallest range of materials and colours possible, and only very simple shapes or forms.” 

At first glance, minimalism and conscious consumption seem hand in hand; both advocate for less, for intentionality, and for slowing down. While conscious consumption is rooted in ethics, mindfulness, and long-term use, minimalism in fashion has become more aesthetic than action. 

Concepts like ikigai, the Japanese philosophy of purpose, remind us that meaning is found in what we do, not in what we own. Minimalism, then, isn’t an aesthetic to achieve, but a byproduct of knowing what matters. When we live with purpose, we naturally need less, not because we’ve perfected our aesthetic, but because our identity no longer depends on our surroundings. Without the meaning, minimalism is simply marketing : an aesthetic communicating order without altering underlying consumption patterns.  

In many cases, it simply repackages the same fast-paced buying habits in a quieter, more curated form. Decluttering becomes less about owning less and more about how to create a cleaner self-image with better basics. Rather than reducing consumption, it becomes about finding the perfect white t-shirt or perfect blue jeans, rather than rethinking our relationship to ownership altogether. 

The pressure to achieve the “perfect purchase” or the ideal capsule wardrobe mirrors the same aspirational logic as fast fashion, simply repackaged in neutral tones and minimalist silhouettes. Rather than rejecting consumption, this version of minimalism  encourages people to buy smarter, not less. 

Capitalism thrives in this quiet upgrade culture, where we’re not buying more, we’re buying better, but still buying. Minimalism can still uphold the same values of aspiration that drive traditional consumerism, it just swaps abundance for refinement. 

MINIMALISM IN PRACTICE 

From Brands: 

Take the H&M Group, for example, which includes brands like H&M, COS, and Arket, each catering to different consumer preferences through style and price points. While H&M offers more affordable, accessible fashion, COS and Arket have higher-quality garments with elevated, minimalist silhouettes. Despite their aesthetic differences, all three brands are produced by the same conglomerate, even though they’re trickling down to different levels of the brand; they produce full product ranges at a large scale, which results in a similar overall brand impact. 

Brands like The Row are known for their minimalist, high-quality aesthetic, which prioritises quality over quantity in their branding and features clean lines. Brands once sold dreams of status, but now sell a sense of belonging through a curated aesthetic that aligns with interest in ethical consumption. However, this visual narrative comes with a blurry understanding of their production side. Similarly, core-based offerings from brands like Massimo Dutti follow this approach, blurring the line between premium aesthetics and mass production.

In Design

When minimalism is paired with thoughtful design, you can create something long-lasting. Vanessa Eckstein from Blok Design knows this well, with her emphasis on clean, grid-based graphic work, along with her beautiful and intentional in-studio ceramics brand, Førs. Vanessa shared her thoughts on minimalism from a design standpoint. 

1. What role does minimalism play in your design process? “Every terminology becomes a version of itself as it traverses geography and cultures, and we sometimes forget its true intention. Minimalism is a way to approach design, a way of understanding its core. For me, design has always been about uncovering essence, both in form and content. It is finding ways of revealing that which is intrinsically there, carving out versus adding. And finding the beauty that lies in between.” 2. How important are sustainability/sustainable design practices to your practice and your in-studio brand Førs, and how do you incorporate them?  Sustainability has always existed at the core of who we are as a studio and as people.  Not as a trend to follow, or a cliche … but as a value which is embedded in ourselves, both as a driving force of our design approach and simple common sense. Why wouldn’t we be aware, respectful, thoughtful, and smart about the resources we use and the way we do it?  We have embraced the opportunities to think about the leftovers we have on paper that we print. For example, in our last project for the MOCA, we designed 4 posters and 4 brochures from one design in order to have no paper waste and the maximum possibilities of use. Similarly, Førs Studio's latest wooden bowls are ethically sourced using leftover wood and support both artisans and education in the Petén Region of Guatemala. Many times, it is the restraints that open opportunities. As Henryk Tomaszewski so beautifully said, “The economy of means is founded on the richness of thought”. Holding ourselves accountable to both our practice and what we teach our children is essential. We want to add value to the world by simply valuing it!

SUSTAINABLE CONSUMERISM PATTERNS & BEHAVIOURS 

A new wave of consumerism has emerged, cloaked in the language of sustainability and wellness. This trend encourages people to make "better" choices – organic produce, stainless steel water bottles, bamboo toothbrushes, and subscription boxes full of eco-friendly goods – while still operating within the framework of relentless consumption, based on the need for newness and instant pleasures. Marketed as ethical alternatives, these products offer a sense of moral satisfaction and environmental contribution, but they rarely challenge the deeper issues of overconsumption, resource depletion, and capitalist overproduction. Instead of reducing their footprint, consumers are invited to swap one set of goods for another, often more expensive, keeping the wheels of the economy spinning in the name of sustainability.

This version of green consumerism can become a distraction from the more uncomfortable but necessary cultural shift: consuming less, living more simply, and reconnecting with slower, non-commercial rhythms of life. Instead of buying new hybrid cars, shall we just not use bicycles and public transport? 

The growing popularity of expensive yoga classes, detox smoothies, and eco-conscious fashion lines reinforces the illusion that sustainability can be bought. But this mindset diverts attention away from collective action, systemic change, and a deeper rethinking of our relationship with nature and each other. It comforts the consumer rather than challenging them, transforming sustainability from a radical practice into a market category, and in doing so, it risks preserving the very systems it claims to resist. 

The world’s biggest polluters often have a financial interest in maintaining the current system, which relies on fossil fuel extraction, resource exploitation, aggressive marketing, and low wages. When you're tempted by a new "sustainable" product, ask yourself: Is this truly helping reduce your environmental impact, or is it just a small tweak meant to distract us while keeping the system largely unchanged? 

Think of fashion: do you need new, sustainable, low-impact clothes? Or is it more revolutionary and impactful to keep using what you own, and substitute with vintage finds when you need? 

MINDSET SHIFT

The real shift happens when we begin to question how much we truly need and start to prioritise craftsmanship and longevity over convenience. When we invest in pieces we’ll actually wear for years, instead of cycling through a revolving door of “quiet luxury” trends, is when we see results. 

When purchasing clothes, the main question should be:  “Does this serve a purpose and add value in my life beyond how it looks?”

A healthier approach to consumption begins with letting go of the need for visual evidence of our values. Minimalism should not be a finished look, but an ongoing practice of choosing less because less is enough. Wardrobes rooted in purpose, not performance, naturally become smaller, slower, and more meaningful.

Minimalism isn't about owning less, it’s about needing less to feel whole. Shifting our relationship with consumption to one of intentionality,  investing in pieces that last and looking beyond aesthetics to get critical about what, who, and how fashion is being made.