9 shopping behaviors that secretly signal you're trying to impress others

Let’s be honest: sometimes our carts tell a story our mouths won’t.

As a former financial analyst, I used to think numbers were neutral. Then I started writing and paying attention to the tiny, emotional “rounding errors” behind our purchases. The patterns were hard to miss—especially the ones that weren’t really about utility, but about image.

If you’ve ever walked out of a store and thought, “Why did I buy that?” this one’s for you. Below are nine subtle shopping behaviors that can sneak in when we’re trying (consciously or not) to impress someone—our peers, our partner, strangers on the internet, or the version of ourselves we wish we were.

None of this is about guilt. It’s about noticing. Ready to self-audit?

1. You gravitate to logos over fit and function

I love good design as much as anyone, but when a logo becomes the main event—and quality, comfort, or longevity take a back seat—it’s a nudge that the audience might matter more than the item.

Economist Thorstein Veblen had a name for this more than a century ago: conspicuous consumption. As he put it, “Conspicuous consumption of valuable goods is a means of reputability to the gentleman of leisure.” That still stings a little because it still rings true.

A quick gut-check I use: if the branding disappeared, would I still be excited to wear or use it?

2. You upgrade to the “premium” version without a real reason

We’ve all clicked the box for the deluxe finish, the priority shipping, or the VIP access with perks we don’t end up using.

Sometimes the upgrade is genuinely useful. Other times it’s theater—proof to ourselves (and anyone watching) that we’re “the kind of person who…”

When I catch myself eyeing the fancy add-on, I ask: what problem does this solve? If I can’t answer in one sentence, it’s probably not about function.

3. You buy for the photo, not the experience

If the first place your mind goes is, “This will look great on my grid,” that’s a sign the real customer isn’t you—it’s your followers.

I volunteer at a farmers’ market, and I’ve watched people pick produce based on how it would photograph in a countertop bowl, not how it tastes in a Tuesday stir-fry.

No shade; I’ve done it too. But the dopamine hit from likes fades fast, while buyer’s remorse lingers.

A tiny reframe that helps: would this object still be worth it if no one ever saw it?

4. You overspend on gifts to acquaintances

Generosity is beautiful. Over-gifting is… complicated. If you’re going big on presents for people who aren’t close (a co-worker you barely know, a casual date), it can be a signal that you’re buying approval.

I learned this the hard way in my twenties when I kept getting thanked with phrases like, “You really didn’t have to…” That wasn’t humility—it was a boundary I’d floated past.

Try setting a “kind but clear” gifting budget by relationship tier. Thoughtful beats flashy, especially when it actually matches the closeness of the connection.

5. You chase the latest—constantly

There’s a difference between appreciating innovation and needing the newest of everything.

If your phone, sneakers, kitchen gadget, or skincare routine always has to be the most current, ask yourself: is the upgrade solving a real problem… or is it solving a status itch?

This is where social proof kicks in hard. As persuasion researcher Robert Cialdini notes, “We view a behavior as more correct in a given situation to the degree that we see others performing it.”

Translation: when the crowd moves, we feel tugged along—even if our old device still works just fine.

One antidote I love: the “two-cycle rule.” Skip at least one release cycle before buying. If you still want it, there’s probably substance beneath the sizzle.

6. You mention prices while you’re wearing or using the thing

Ever found yourself saying, “It was on sale for $380—but it’s usually $600”? I’ve been there.

Sneaking price tags into conversation is a subtle flex, especially when we emphasize the original (higher!) price.

If the cost becomes part of the story, it can mean the story we’re trying to tell is about worthiness, not utility.

Challenge yourself to talk about how something performs in your real life—how comfy the boots are on a long city walk, how the blender actually handles frozen bananas—without slipping in the number.

7. You shop with an audience (and play to it)

Shopping is more performative than we admit. We comment a little louder in the store, angle the mirror, send “Should I get this?” photos to group chats.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting input, but pay attention to the moments when the performance ramps up. Are you trying to get consensus… or applause?

Solo “quiet shops” can help. No friends, no texts, no mirrors if you can avoid them. Just you and the question: does this serve my life?

8. You “wardrobe” buys—use once for an occasion or image, then return

Wardrobing (buying with the intention to return after one wear or photo) is more common than people admit.

I understand the temptation—it’s a low-cost way to step into an aspirational identity. But it’s often a clue that the real goal isn’t joy, it’s impression management.

When I notice that urge, I borrow instead—clothing libraries, rental services, or a friend’s closet. I still get the look, and I don’t accumulate clutter or guilt.

9. You self-medicate with status after social comparison

Be honest: have you ever scrolled through a colleague’s vacation photos, felt the pinch, then suddenly “needed” a little luxury? That’s comparison-driven consumption.

It’s not about the beach bag. It’s about soothing a social bruise.

On the mornings I feel this itch, I go trail running. Moving my body resets my brain chemistry and loosens the grip of “shoulds.” You don’t have to run—gardening, making a big pot of soup, or calling your favorite person works too.

The point is to re-anchor in a life you actually enjoy rather than a feed you’re trying to keep up with.

A simple self-inventory

Grab a recent month of statements or order histories. Skim through with a highlighter and mark the purchases that:

• Had a visible logo you wanted people to notice.

• Were “the newest” version even though your old one worked.

• You talked about on social or in group chats for validation.

• You bought for a single event or photo.

• Came with a story that included the price.

Now ask: what percentage of my spending is signaling versus serving? Even a rough guess is enlightening.

How to shift from impressing to expressing

If a few of these behaviors hit close to home (same!), here are the small pivots that help me:

• Rewrite your why. Before big buys, I write one sentence: “I want this because…” If my answer includes other people’s perceptions, I wait 72 hours.

• Swap status for story. Choose things that carry a story you love—handmade ceramics from a local artist, the jacket you’ll repair for a decade, the knife that makes cooking joyful.

• Default to “quiet quality.” The best compliment is “Where did you get that?”—not because of the label, but because it clearly works.

• Invest where you live, not where you pose. Spend where you spend your time. If you’re at your desk 40 hours a week, a great chair may do more for you than a shiny accessory you’ll wear twice.

A final word (and a gentle dare)

Veblen’s observation about conspicuous consumption wasn’t a moral indictment; it was a mirror. When we notice our own signaling, we gain the chance to choose differently.

Maybe that means buying less but better.

Maybe it means borrowing, mending, or just opting out.

And maybe—just maybe—it means you’ll feel a bit lighter the next time you carry a bag out of a store, because the only person you were dressing to impress was the one who has to live with your choices: you.

If you try a “quiet shop” or the two-cycle rule this week, tell me how it goes. I’m cheering for purchases that fit your life, not your persona.