Friends, there’s a new online shopping site we need to chat about. You browse thousands of products. You add items to your cart. You check out.
All pretty normal. Here’s what’s making the headlines: your card is never charged and nothing arrives at your doorstep.
Congratulations. You bought absolutely nothing. Paid for nothing. And in return, received nothing.
So... window shopping... online? Apparently, it’s called a “dopamine site” (imagine explaining this concept to our grandparents).
Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out whether this was the most depressing thing I’d ever heard... or a stroke of Gen Z brilliance. I still haven’t. But it begs the question: Why does pretending to shop feel so satisfying?
Retail therapy is practically scientifically proven at this point. And window shopping has probably been around since the horse-and-buggy days (someone should probably fact-check that). But this feels wildly different.
For my fellow Sex and the City fans, I couldn’t help but wonder... what would Carrie Bradshaw think? I can imagine an episode where someone tells her about it over Cosmos, and she’d be equal parts horrified and intrigued.
By Sunday brunch she’d casually announce:
“Ladies...I think I went shopping.”
Charlotte: “Oh! What did you get?”
“... Nothing.”
Miranda: “Nothing?”
“Well...I filled my cart. Then I checked out.”
“And?”
“Nothing came. That was it.”
(Cue Samantha making a joke HBO would approve, but Substack probably won’t.)
The conversation would then spiral into one of Carrie’s columns about why pretending to buy something scratched an itch she didn’t even know she had... but why?
My theory? We love trying to separate the experience from the consequence.
The luxury without the price tag. The taste without the calories. This is how brands like Quince, Halo Top and SmartSweets became household names. They’re not trying to replace the real thing. They’re trying to capture enough of the experience that you don’t miss it quite as much.
And today, online shopping without the spending has its own website.
Maybe fake shopping sites fall into the same category as Halo Top. All things in moderation, right? If ice cream is your comfort food, some people grab a healthier alternative to get through the week. And if online shopping helps you unwind, maybe a fake site is just a harmless hack for someone trying to spend less.
And then the hard stuff like Bacio di Latte is reserved for a real Friday night indulgence. Just like buying an item that actually shows up both on your credit card statement and doorstep.
Last week I wrote that different people need different things. I still believe that. If pretending to buy a pair of shoes helps someone save their money, I genuinely don’t see that as a bad thing.
We’ve figured out a way to keep the dopamine and remove the spending, all from the comfort of our couches. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized this wasn’t really about consumption at all. Instead, it reminded me of all the other places we quietly feed our imaginations...
We make Pinterest boards for homes we’ll probably never decorate.
We scroll listings on Zillow for fun.
We vote on AI-generated cozy cabins we’d want to disappear to.
We make AI-generated fan-fiction trailers for movies that don’t exist.
We digitally hoard more recipes than we’ll ever need to keep ourselves alive.
Basically, it’s all just the grown-up version of the imaginary worlds we built with Barbies and superheroes.
I don’t think fake shopping sites invented anything new. Instead, they gave us another place to daydream. We used to doodle in the margins and stare out of classroom windows to let our minds wander. Now, we scroll. And look at all kinds of things we have zero intention or ability to experience IRL, from vacations to homes to Becca Bloom’s closet. AKA: low-stakes escapism.
And as always, I’m not here to judge, especially when I’m absolutely the target demographic this site was designed for.
I’ve lost embarrassing amounts of time online drooling over hotels for trips I don’t even have planned. I’ve rearranged furniture in apartments I don’t live in. I’ve built wishlists that would financially ruin me if I ever clicked “Checkout.” I’ve browsed countless LTK links knowing I won’t buy anything, simply because imagining a different version of my closet is oddly therapeutic.
Apparently, my imagination has graduated from touring with the Spice Girls at age six to disappearing into English cottage renovation videos and mentally choosing gowns I’ll never own. And with expensive taste, to boot (don’t even get me started on my dream Givenchy boots!!).
Sometimes we aren’t just browsing a house on Zillow for fun. We’re secretly fantasizing about a different life.
We aren’t just watching Italy itinerary videos online. We’re imagining a version of ourselves that embraces la dolce vita and slows down.
We aren’t just filling up a shopping cart. We’re filling in the blanks of who we want to dress up as.
Adults don’t get many opportunities to daydream anymore. Every spare minute is filled with emails, notifications, headlines and errands. But the internet has become a bigger playground than Disneyland to let our grown-up imaginations run wild.
Scrolling through imaginary shopping carts, Italian villas and dream kitchens isn’t just about scratching a consumerism itch. Online is one of the few places we still let our minds wander when the real world feels a little too loud.
Turns out, adulthood never took away our imagination. It just changed what we play with.
—Your Friend
