SEPTEMBER 11 — “It’s okay. Just this once.”
“I’ve worked hard.”
“I deserve this.”
Many of us have probably said something similar before buying something we did not really need.
Perhaps it was a new pair of shoes. A handbag. Another skincare product. An expensive cup of coffee. Or something that had been sitting in our online shopping cart for several days.
We know we could live without it.
But after a long week, a stressful day at work or simply a day that did not go particularly well, the purchase suddenly feels justified.
We call it a reward.
Sometimes, we call it self-care.
And this is where something interesting is happening in contemporary consumer culture.
Taking care of ourselves is becoming increasingly associated with buying something.
Self-care, of course, does not require a transaction. Getting enough sleep is self-care. Resting is self-care. Going for a walk, exercising, spending time with family or simply giving ourselves permission to do nothing for a while can all be forms of self-care.
Yet look at the language surrounding self-care in consumer culture today.
Treat yourself.
You deserve it.
Invest in yourself.
Because you’re worth it.
These phrases connect products with something much bigger than what those products actually do.
We are not simply buying skincare. We are “taking care of ourselves”.
We are not simply going on holiday. We are “healing”.
We are not simply buying coffee. We are giving ourselves a “little treat”.
And we are not simply buying something we want.
We are “rewarding ourselves”.
This is not entirely accidental.
The marketplace has become remarkably good at offering products for the emotions we are experiencing.
When we are tired, there is something we can buy to make ourselves feel better.
When we are stressed, there is something that promises a little pleasure.
When we achieve something, there is a product waiting to become our reward.
Buying, in other words, is becoming part of our emotional vocabulary.
Consumer research has long recognised that consumption is not simply a rational act of satisfying needs. People also consume for pleasure, experiences, symbols and meanings.
But the digital environment has made the distance between emotion and purchase remarkably short.
The scale of Malaysia’s e-commerce economy gives us some indication of just how embedded digital transactions have become.
According to the Department of Statistics Malaysia (DOSM), income from e-commerce transactions reached RM1.288 trillion in 2024, up 8.8 per cent from RM1.184 trillion in the previous year.
Much of this, of course, is not individual consumer spending. Business-to-business (B2B) transactions remained the largest component at RM879.6 billion, while business-to-government (B2G) transactions accounted for RM33.8 billion.
But the figure particularly relevant to consumers is business-to-consumer (B2C) e-commerce.
B2C transactions reached RM374.7 billion in 2024, an increase of 11.3 per cent from RM336.6 billion a year earlier.
These figures tell us more than simply that Malaysians are buying online.
They point to a marketplace that is increasingly woven into the routines of everyday life — always available, easily accessible and often only a few taps away.
More importantly, we increasingly do not even have to go looking for something to buy.
The products come looking for us.
We open social media to watch videos, follow creators or simply pass the time. Somewhere between the entertainment, however, we encounter product demonstrations, reviews, shopping links and livestreams.
According to TikTok Shop, almost six in 10 of its users in Malaysia now choose LIVE shopping as their preferred shopping format. Sales generated through LIVE grew 48 per cent year-on-year and now account for almost a third of sales on the platform.
The significance of these figures goes beyond the popularity of livestream shopping.
They show how the boundary between entertainment and consumption is becoming increasingly difficult to see.
We may open TikTok because we want to unwind after a long day, not because we intend to shop.
Yet within the same space, we can discover a product, watch someone demonstrate it, hear why other people love it, encounter a limited-time offer and complete the purchase without ever leaving the platform.
From feeling tired, to becoming interested, to thinking “I deserve this”, and finally to checkout — the entire journey can happen within minutes.
The ability to buy also no longer depends entirely on how much money we have at that particular moment.
In 2025, Malaysians made 243 million Buy Now, Pay Later (BNPL) transactions worth RM21.3 billion.
That represented a sharp increase from 146 million transactions worth RM12 billion in 2024.
By the end of 2025, Malaysia had 7.5 million active BNPL users. Consumers aged 30 and below accounted for about 40 per cent of BNPL transactions.
But another number is particularly interesting.
The average BNPL transaction was only around RM91.
BNPL was also commonly used for food, groceries, transport and services.
This matters because consumer culture does not always manifest itself through extravagant handbags, expensive holidays or luxury purchases.
Increasingly, it can come through amounts that feel small enough to justify.
RM12 for coffee does not sound like much.
RM29 for a personal-care product hardly feels excessive.
RM45 for something on sale can even feel like a bargain.
And when payment itself can be divided into several instalments, the question “Can I afford this?” can gradually become “How much do I need to pay today?”
But perhaps what is even more interesting is how we explain these purchases to ourselves.
We rarely say, “I bought this because I was stressed.”
Instead, we say, “I wanted to reward myself.”
We do not say, “I was persuaded to buy this.”
We say, “What’s wrong with treating myself once in a while?” And perhaps the most powerful phrase of all is:
“I deserve this.”
Those three words turn a purchase into something more than a want.
They give consumption a form of justification.
I worked hard, therefore I deserve it.
I have sacrificed a lot, therefore I am entitled to enjoy something.
I am going through a difficult time, therefore I should do something that makes me happy.
There is nothing inherently wrong with any of this.
We should not feel guilty every time we buy coffee after a difficult day, purchase a pair of shoes we have wanted for months or take a holiday after working hard.
Consumption can bring pleasure.
And pleasure has a legitimate place in our lives.
Perhaps, then, the question is not whether we should stop buying things.
The question is when buying becomes our automatic response to how we feel.
This is where the culture of the “little treat” becomes interesting.
Each small transaction can easily be justified on its own.
But when a little treat becomes the response to every difficult day, every small achievement and every moment of boredom, perhaps it is worth asking what we are actually trying to buy.
A product?
Or a feeling?
The distinction matters because not every emotional need can be resolved through consumption.
Sometimes we do not need something new.
We need rest.
Sometimes we do not need an expensive meal.
We need time.
Sometimes we do not need another self-care product.
We may simply need an afternoon in which nobody needs anything from us.
The problem is that these things are difficult to sell.
There is no checkout button for going to bed early.
There is no flash sale for taking a 20-minute walk.
And nobody earns a commission when we put our phones away and simply rest.
Perhaps that is why, in a world constantly encouraging us to show ourselves love by buying something, we need to rediscover the idea that taking care of ourselves does not always have to come with a price tag.
Before pressing checkout after a difficult day, perhaps there is one question worth asking:
Do I really want this product, or do I want the feeling I hope this product will give me?
Sometimes, the answer really is the product.
But sometimes, what we need most cannot be added to a shopping cart.
* The writer is a lecturer in marketing and consumer research.
** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
