an uncontrollable urge to secure the drug, the drink, or the item of clothing. “You will not let things stand in your way,” Kalivas says. “The brain has been altered permanently.” 14
The Thin Line Between Obsession and Addiction
B rand addiction, and its slightly less severe cousin, brand obsession, are subsets of shopping addiction, and while they may not be recognized as psychiatric disorders, I’ve found them to be alarmingly common. In fact, I’m guessing that whether it’s the coworker who has to have her Starbucks in the morning before she can function (not just any coffee; it has to be Starbucks) or the brother-in-law who mopes around depressed for days because the Yankees lost or the little cousin who stands in line all night in minus-ten-degree weather because she just
has
to have tickets to the Miley Cyrus concert (sports teams and celebrities are brands, and highly addictive ones, too), you too know plenty of people who suffer from it. There are so many brand obsessives out there, there’s even an online community called MyBrandz, where the afflicted can swap stories about their obsessions. Over the years, I’ve met people addicted to all kinds of brands and products, from a man who owned ten Harley-Davidsons to a woman who drank twenty-five Diet Cokes a day. And while there’s certainly a difference between brand fanaticism and true addiction, I’ve found that line to be rather thin.
Still, do companies and advertisers have a hand in creating theseaddictions to their products? Obviously, they can’t penetrate our brains and alter the DNA. But while they may not be able to directly manufacture addiction, based on what I’ve seen in boardrooms and back rooms over my two decades of work with some of the most successful brands on the planet, you better believe that they do have a lot of clever tricks and tools for nudging us in that direction and spurring addictions along. Sometimes they use subconscious emotional or psychological cues, like when cigarette companies imbue their ads and packaging with subtle imagery meant to induce craving. Other times they actually make their products physically addictive, the way cigarette companies manufacture tobacco products to be chemically addictive and potato chip companies use recipes that ensure we won’t be able to stop until we’ve eaten the whole bag. And other times they persuade us to engage in behaviors that actually rewire our brains to become hooked on the act of shopping and buying.
To find out exactly how these addictions form, I spoke with a former senior executive atPhilip Morris (seemed like the logical place to start my research on addiction) about how mere consumer habits and preferences can cross the line into addictions—and the role companies play in pushing us over it. He told me that his company has identified a model of how we get hooked on brands. It happens in two stages. The first is known as the “routine stage.” This is when we simply use certain brands or products as part of our daily habits and rituals—when we brush our teeth with Crest, use Dove soap in the shower, drive our Toyota to work, etc. These are all products we buy regularly and replace or replenish whenever they break or run out. They are essential to our everyday functioning. The second stage, known as the “dream stage,” however, is when we buy things—a new dress, a new pair of earphones, a new bottle of perfume—not because we need them but because we’ve allowed
emotional
signals about them to penetrate our brains. When do we slip into the dream stage? According to this executive, who asked that he not be named, it’s usually when we’ve let our guard down, when we’re relaxed. During the summer, over the weekend, on vacation. Think about it. Beyond the essentials, how many times do you open your wallet during the workweek? Typically not often, because you’re in work mode, not shopping mode. But as the weekend approaches, weshed our routines
The Thin Line Between Obsession and Addiction
B rand addiction, and its slightly less severe cousin, brand obsession, are subsets of shopping addiction, and while they may not be recognized as psychiatric disorders, I’ve found them to be alarmingly common. In fact, I’m guessing that whether it’s the coworker who has to have her Starbucks in the morning before she can function (not just any coffee; it has to be Starbucks) or the brother-in-law who mopes around depressed for days because the Yankees lost or the little cousin who stands in line all night in minus-ten-degree weather because she just
has
to have tickets to the Miley Cyrus concert (sports teams and celebrities are brands, and highly addictive ones, too), you too know plenty of people who suffer from it. There are so many brand obsessives out there, there’s even an online community called MyBrandz, where the afflicted can swap stories about their obsessions. Over the years, I’ve met people addicted to all kinds of brands and products, from a man who owned ten Harley-Davidsons to a woman who drank twenty-five Diet Cokes a day. And while there’s certainly a difference between brand fanaticism and true addiction, I’ve found that line to be rather thin.
Still, do companies and advertisers have a hand in creating theseaddictions to their products? Obviously, they can’t penetrate our brains and alter the DNA. But while they may not be able to directly manufacture addiction, based on what I’ve seen in boardrooms and back rooms over my two decades of work with some of the most successful brands on the planet, you better believe that they do have a lot of clever tricks and tools for nudging us in that direction and spurring addictions along. Sometimes they use subconscious emotional or psychological cues, like when cigarette companies imbue their ads and packaging with subtle imagery meant to induce craving. Other times they actually make their products physically addictive, the way cigarette companies manufacture tobacco products to be chemically addictive and potato chip companies use recipes that ensure we won’t be able to stop until we’ve eaten the whole bag. And other times they persuade us to engage in behaviors that actually rewire our brains to become hooked on the act of shopping and buying.
To find out exactly how these addictions form, I spoke with a former senior executive atPhilip Morris (seemed like the logical place to start my research on addiction) about how mere consumer habits and preferences can cross the line into addictions—and the role companies play in pushing us over it. He told me that his company has identified a model of how we get hooked on brands. It happens in two stages. The first is known as the “routine stage.” This is when we simply use certain brands or products as part of our daily habits and rituals—when we brush our teeth with Crest, use Dove soap in the shower, drive our Toyota to work, etc. These are all products we buy regularly and replace or replenish whenever they break or run out. They are essential to our everyday functioning. The second stage, known as the “dream stage,” however, is when we buy things—a new dress, a new pair of earphones, a new bottle of perfume—not because we need them but because we’ve allowed
emotional
signals about them to penetrate our brains. When do we slip into the dream stage? According to this executive, who asked that he not be named, it’s usually when we’ve let our guard down, when we’re relaxed. During the summer, over the weekend, on vacation. Think about it. Beyond the essentials, how many times do you open your wallet during the workweek? Typically not often, because you’re in work mode, not shopping mode. But as the weekend approaches, weshed our routines
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