Brand new beginning

Book review:When the author realised that he had become addicted to consumerism, he decided to burn all the branded goods he owned, writes John Fanning

Bonfire of The BrandsBy Neil Boorman, Canongate Books, Edinburgh; £12.99 (€18.50)

Neil Boorman is an extremist. A 30-something Londoner, dabbling on the fringes of lifestyle journalism and rock music, he was for many years a self-confessed shopping addict, meticulous in his choice of brands and obsessively conscious of the messages these brands conveyed about him. His wardrobe was packed with expensive labels, from T-shirts costing more than €200 to enough trainers and shoes to make Imelda Marcos seem parsimonious.

Then one day he came to the conclusion that his life was a sham, that he was by his own admission a brand addict carefully constructing his own personality and judging everyone else solely on the basis of the brands they consumed.

The Pauline conversion resulted in a decision to burn all the branded goods he owned, from clothes to electronic goods, from household furnishings to household cleaners, and to live in future only using goods bought from farmers' markets, charity shops, army surplus stores and industrial caterers.

But, not content with taking these extreme measures, Boorman, a thoroughly 21st-century kind of guy immersed in celebrity culture, has to tell the whole world about his conversion. He does it in the form of a diary starting in March 2006, about 200 days before the bonfire in September. There is also the inevitable blog where he records his progress. And as the media begins to take an interest, there are interviews, including one with an Irish radio station. Finally, the bonfire itself is filmed on TV.

We learn during the course of this odyssey that in his early 20s he checked himself into an alcohol advisory clinic and hasn't taken any alcohol since, and during the countdown to the bonfire he undergoes analysis from a psychotherapist, the results of which he shares with us.

Throughout the process he visits the British Museum where he reads an impressive range of books on branding and consumption. He summarises his conclusions and on one level the book is a useful guide to the latest thinking on branding. Unfortunately Boorman regularly falls into the trap of assuming that everything in the here and now is happening for the very first time, for example the notion that shopping is the quintessential drama of the 21st century.

He seems unaware of Colin Campbell's historical studies, which show that consumer goods were condemned as far back as 1540 for being "childish frivolities and unnecessary or even harmful indulgences".

The author's self-absorption is annoying but he has an engaging way of anticipating criticism. Early on he says: "Reading this confession you must feel that I am one of the most shallow, judgmental people one could ever meet." This is as good an example of a rhetorical question as you are likely to see. He also accepts the huge volume of criticism his blog attracts, in particular why he wants to burn all his goods rather than give them to charity shops.

If this book was being reviewed for the Weekend Review section of this newspaper, we could now proceed with an analysis of the nature of addiction, the cult of extreme experiences or the "nonentity to celebrity" culture of our time.

Alas these are the business pages, where idle intellectual speculation is for wimps and the need to understand the net is paramount. So is Boorman likely to have any effect on the marketing of consumer goods and is there any need to consider his thesis?

The first point to make is that he's not alone: there is now a burgeoning anti-brand/anti-consumerist literature, from the general No Logo to the specific Fast Food Nation.

There is also some evidence from the marketplace of a small backlash against overly obtrusive and bombastic branding from a growing segment of society known as the New Puritans, or "Neo-Croms", if you prefer your puns multi-faceted. But the history of consumption is littered with exhortations to return to a simpler way of life and these views are particularly prevalent in the immediate aftermath of a period of sudden wealth increase.

Businesses would still be advised to consider the implications: less "because you're worth it" and more "it does exactly what it says on the tin". In other words, think minimal, local, renewable, organic, less is more and, above all, authentic.

But this book, with all its self-serving self-consciousness, also prompts a less reassuring possibility: what would be the effect if two currently fashionable topics de jour were to coalesce?

On the one hand, we have the hot issue of "sustainability", currently confined to carbon emissions and fossil fuels but already being spoken of in terms of a cutback in all forms of consumption on the grounds that everything we consume endangers the planet. On the other, we have the "happiness" question: if I'm that wealthy, why am I not any happier?

The notion that buying less stuff not only saves the planet but makes you happier has a seductive ring to it, but it could never happen, could it?

John Fanning is chairman of McConnell's Advertising, adjunct professor of marketing at Trinity College Dublin and a non-executive director of The Irish Times