Suburban dystopia

Suburban life has never attracted me. I find the rows and rows of ticky-tacky houses on small blocks with double garages and endless lawns stifling. While there are plenty of cars, I hardly see a person walking and everything is far, far away. The only way to get somewhere is by private motor vehicle.

Shopping centres out in the ‘burbs are large scale. If there are any main street shops left, they are run down. The rest are found in shopping malls with enormous car parks where people circle like sharks trying to find a park. I have visited a few recently. They inevitably have a one or two supermarkets, cheap chemists, tobacconists an uninviting café or two and of course the ubiquitous two-dollar shops and cheap clothing stores by the dozen. All I can see is the landfill they will produce within weeks of purchase.

Teenagers hang around in groups at the Plaza; there’s very little else for them to do. Young women push their prams, old ones their walkers and those in between walk around with their shopping bags hanging by their sides. I see little joy in their faces. Shops are often empty with salespeople leaning on counters looking out, willing customers to come in and spend. It’s the bottle shop and supermarket that are busy in these places.

I look at people’s faces and wonder whether it is the emptiness inside that is fuelling their consumption. Things always look better when displayed in shop windows and I too have fallen for the trap thinking that an item will transform my space or make me feel better. Rarely has this been the case. If anything, I have often regretted the hole in my budget and the hours I had to work in exchange for that item.

I am not a minimalist and doubt that I will ever embrace that lifestyle. However, I try to think about my purchases and buy quality rather than quantity. My last pair of boots lasted ten years before I wore them out and items like crockery and furniture are decades old, except for my recently purchased desk. You won’t find me throwing out broken shelves at the council cleanup because the ones I have are made to last.

While I see why suburban life may appeal to some people, I can’t ignore its suffocating mundanity. There’s a deeper fulfilment to be found beyond cookie-cutter houses and sprawling parking lots. Choosing quality over quantity and seeking life affirming experiences is essential for a truly meaningful life. I want us to challenge and reject mindless consumption, not just for the sake of our well-being, but that of our planet. And we all deserve spaces that inspire us and choices that reflect our passions. Life is too short to settle for banality.