Lifestyle
Are You the Only One Who’s Broke? Or Is It ‘Money Dysmorphia’?
On Instagram feeds, martini glasses clink in what feels like a never-ending loop. Photo carousels from nights out show low-lit steakhouses, tartare and soufflés, Luxardo cherries. (What, in this economy, is screaming Luxardo cherries?) A roommate’s random co-worker is somehow lounging on yet another cabana in yet another tropical bathing suit. (Who owns that many bathing suits?) A co-worker’s random roommate is inexplicably trying out a new Bitcoin-powered bathhouse.
Just one click away is the news: flip-flopping on tariffs that could hit iPhones, T-shirts, backpacks and toothbrushes. There are wildly zigzagging red lines on market charts and somber television newscasters with panicked voices talking about retirement savings, which is angst-inducing even for people decades away from retirement.
“Phone-eats-first type of food, whatever viral sweater is going around on TikTok, the new work bag,” said Devin Walsh, 25, who lives in New York and works in marketing, listing the tempting purchases that flit across her Instagram, even, stubbornly, this past week. “Meanwhile, everyone is referencing the Great Depression.”
It’s a dizzying time to be a 20-something inundated by social media feeds flashing other people’s trips and restaurant reservations, which feel more over-the-top than ever, thanks to what trend forecasters call the “boom boom aesthetic.” It’s a recent embrace, by fashion labels, influencers and ordinary spenders, of lavish old-money consumption, like Gordon Gekko-inspired suits and endless (once verboten) furs.
Many young people are plagued by pangs of economic self-doubt, telling friends or therapists that they can’t keep up with the Joneses (and what the Joneses are posting on Instagram). Others are struggling to save, and then making impulse buys that leave them feeling anxious or guilty, that spending hangover from an “oh why not” pair of shoes.
“You see a social media post and you’re like, ‘Maybe I’m doing something wrong,’” said Veronica Holloway, 27, a data analyst who lives in Chicago. “Like somehow I must be being irresponsible if I’m not able to spend like this.”
The resulting unease is leading to what financial planners call “money dysmorphia.” A sibling of the term “body dysmorphia,” meaning people who look in the mirror and do not see what’s really there, it refers to people who have a distorted view of their own financial well-being. It’s a mind-bending split-screen view of reality.
“You’re in a position where you don’t believe you have enough money, even though the numbers say you’re OK,” said Aja Evans, a financial therapist with some clients who struggle with dysmorphia. “It’s easy for people to create a narrative around what they’re seeing online — they’re like, ‘Oh my God, everyone is going away for spring break, I’m the only one who is staying home.’”
These perceptions, unhinged from reality, lead some to hold back on spending unnecessarily. It could lead others to overspend, sometimes enabled by “buy now, pay later” technologies; the average Gen Z consumer holds roughly $3,500 in credit card debt, according to data from Experian. A 2024 study conducted by Qualtrics found that nearly a third of all Americans reported feeling money dysmorphia, including 43 percent of Gen Z.
For Ms. Holloway, this disquieting uncertainty about spending started in childhood, after both her parents lost their jobs in the 2008 financial crisis. Her family lived below the poverty line, she said. Ms. Holloway thought twice about even necessary expenses. When she bought a pair of $130 sneakers for her high school cross country team, she spent a week feeling sick to her stomach.
She has never been able to fully shake her worries, even now that she has a paycheck that more than covers her rent and meals. It does not help that her social media acts as a highlight reel of friends’ expenses, from flashy dinners to acrylic nails.
What’s known as the hemline theory says that when the economy becomes stronger, skirts lengths become shorter; boom times mean people want to party. A corollary that some economists and sociologists have found is that when the economy turns downward, tastes for little luxuries sometimes grow. During the 2008 financial crisis, some scholars reported seeing the “Lipstick Effect,” which was consumers spending more on small cosmetic items, perhaps as a way to feel slightly better about the state of the world, or at least about their faces. And in the early 1980s, when the economy cratered, fashion turned gaudy and over-the-top. One popular poster from the time shows a man in a tweed jacket and English riding pants leaning against a Rolls-Royce, cocktail glass in the air.
“That display of preppy-style wealth came during the worst economic recession since the 1930s,” said Douglas Rossinow, a historian and the author of “The Reagan Era.”
That tendency toward crisis-inflected lipstick spending has been layered on top of a financial reality that is already confusing for young people. For years, millennials were living with a warped sense of financial security because of venture capital money essentially subsidizing DoorDash deliveries and Uber rides. Social media invites people to post only their most hard-to-get dinner reservations and “White Lotus”-reminiscent beach travel. Now the economic picture is particularly uncertain, and the Instagram aesthetic is particularly luxurious.
“There was this more subdued, minimal norm-core look of the 2010s where people were trying to occlude their power or wealth — which came out of Silicon Valley and its casual approach to the workplace — that has fallen out of favor,” said the trend forecaster Sean Monahan.
Mr. Monahan, who coined the term “boom boom aesthetic” in December, has tracked a recent surge in posts of flashy finery: caviar bumps, broad-shouldered suits, Chateau Marmont parties, 1980s-style decadence. “People feel like they’re participating in status games very explicitly,” he said. “The social hierarchy is in flux.”
Dessie DiMino, a tech worker, notices when friends post pictures from ski resorts and music festivals. She has had to ratchet up the voice in her head reminding herself to save as she follows headlines about economic uncertainty and the tariffs that seemed poised to hit her daily spending, including grocery items like coffee beans and chocolate.
“I don’t want to just stop doing everything, but I know there are days I should really bite the bullet and stay home,” said Ms. DiMino, 27.
To Ms. Walsh, the marketing employee from New York, the draw toward prudence feels especially tricky for her generation because of the shared sense that they’re living under a cloud of incessant crisis — Covid-19, climate change, political turbulence. Sometimes, she tells her mother, it’s hard to muster the discipline to save when she keeps hearing that the sky is falling.
“We’re more inclined to spend frivolously because of this looming main character energy of ‘The world is going to end anyway,’” Ms. Walsh said. “What are we saving for?”
In February, she splurged on hosting a Valentine’s Day party in her Hell’s Kitchen apartment, spending hundreds of dollars on heart-shaped sunglasses that she mounted to the wall to feel like a Sunglass Hut, a sink filled with alcohol and a new $150 heart-printed dress. “Was it a rational use of funds?” she said. “Maybe not.”
Financial planners, especially those who work with young people, are trying to help clients who are feeling throttled by these economic shifts. Some of these clients are buying up new blazers and vacations as a balm for their broader sense of anxiety about where the economy is headed. Others are avoiding even reasonable purchases.
“I work with somebody who started cheaping out on groceries, even though her family’s financial future doesn’t hang on a trip to Whole Foods,” said Matt Lundquist, a therapist in Manhattan. “The inverse end of that is people being much more pleasure seeking — getting the Chanel bag, the ‘Oh forget it, I’ve been wanting these shoes.’”
Kara Pérez, who founded an organization that educates women on managing finances, has seen this uncertainty reshape her clients’ views on class. Some are overwhelmed by the affluence they see on social media, and it makes them lose sense of whether or not they are financially comfortable. Ms. Pérez said some clients whom she would describe as firmly middle class no longer saw themselves that way.
“A lot of people are like, ‘I’m not Kim Kardashian, I’m not Elon Musk, therefore I am broke,’” Ms. Pérez said.
Ms. Pérez also sees this sentiment in comments that users leave on her social media page. On TikTok, where Ms. Pérez calls herself a personal finance expert, she’s forgiving of those who reply to her posts amid the chaos of the moment, effectively saying: “There’s no point in saving babe, we’re not going to retire. It’s OK to spend extravagantly now.”
Singer Joe McDonald sings during the concert marking the 40th anniversary of the Woodstock music festival on Aug. 15, 2009 in Bethel, New York. McDonald has died at age 84.
Mario Tama/Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Mario Tama/Getty Images
Country Joe McDonald, the singer-songwriter whose Vietnam War protest song became a signature anthem of the 1960s counterculture, has died at 84.
McDonald died on Saturday in Berkeley, Calif., according to a statement released by a publicist. His health had recently declined due to Parkinson’s disease.
Born in 1942, in Washington, D.C., he grew up in El Monte, Calif., outside Los Angeles, according to a biography on his website. As a young man he served in the U.S. Navy before turning to writing and music during the early 1960s, eventually becoming involved in the political and cultural ferment of the Bay Area.
In 1965 he helped form the band Country Joe and the Fish in Berkeley. The group became part of the emerging San Francisco psychedelic music scene, blending folk traditions with electric rock and pointed political commentary.
The band’s best-known song, “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die Rag,” captured the growing anti-war sentiment of the Vietnam era. With its ragtime-influenced rhythm and sharply satirical lyrics about war and political leadership, the song quickly became associated with protests against the conflict.
McDonald delivered the song to some half a million people at the 1969 Woodstock festival in upstate New York. Performing solo, he led the crowd in a form of call-and-response before launching into the anti-war anthem, turning the performance into one of the defining scenes of the festival.
Country Joe and the Fish released several recordings during the late 1960s and toured widely, becoming closely identified with that era’s West Coast rock and protest movements.
McDonald later continued performing and recording as a solo artist, recording numerous albums across a career that spanned more than half a century. His work drew variously from folk, rock and blues traditions and often reflected his long-standing interest in political and social issues.
Although he became widely known for his opposition to the Vietnam War, McDonald frequently emphasized respect for those who served in the U.S. military. After his own service in the Navy, he remained engaged with veterans’ issues and occasionally performed at events connected to veterans and their experiences, according to his website biography.
Maren Morris to Trump Voters
You Got Bamboozled!!!
Published
Country music star Maren Morris is speaking her mind about what she sees as the failures of the Trump administration, and she doesn’t care if she loses fans over it.
According to Maren Morris, if you supported Donald Trump in his presidential elections, you voted for a “dementia ridden, diaper clad, cornball” and “you got bamboozled.”
Not only that … she doesn’t feel bad for the MAGA faithful who may feel disillusioned by their leader.
In a TikTok posted Friday, she said, “The is literally the result of ploying and voting for losers.”
Morris has expressed her dismay at music becoming so political since she’s jumped onto the scene — something she’s benefitted from due to songs like “My Church” — but she’s clearly not shy about her views.
“If you don’t agree with me … you can’t enjoy my music because of my viewpoints? You’re absolutely allowed to do that,” she said. “But I am only here for an iteration of revolutions around the sun, a couple, and so I do feel like I have sacrificed a lot of my mental health, my financial standing, my family, just because I am so deeply concerned and uncomfortable with the weird status quo of country music.”
Jean, 72, a Chinese opera performer, poses for a portrait before performing in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
Annice Lyn/Everyday Asia
hide caption
toggle caption
Annice Lyn/Everyday Asia
March 8 is International Women’s Day — a date picked in honor of a remarkable Russian protest.
During World War I, women in Russia went on strike. They demanded “bread and peace.” Among the results of their four-day protest: the Czar abdicated and women gained the right to vote.
This bold strike began on Feb. 23, 1917, according to the Julian calendar then used in Russia. That date translated to March 8 in the Gregorian calendar that much of the world uses. So that’s the day chosen for this celebratory event.
True to the spirit of those Russian women, the world pauses on this day to celebrate the achievements of women. This year to mark International Women’s Day, the United Nations is calling for “Rights. Justice. Action. For all women and girls.”
Sometimes, the true achievements are the ones that we barely see. The photographers at The Everyday Projects, a global photography and storytelling network, have shared portraits of women who in ways large and small are determined, like those Russian women over 100 years ago, to improve the lives of women and to build a better world.
Singing with strength
Kuala Lumpur-based photographer Annice Lyn likes to highlight the strength, resilience and the stories of women who are often overlooked.
That’s the inspiration for her portrait of Jean, 72, as she prepares for a performance of Chinese opera at Kwai Chai Hong, a restored heritage alley in Kuala Lumpur’s Chinatown in August 2024.
Such performances, typically staged during festivals and temple celebrations, combine singing, acting, martial arts, elaborate costumes and symbolic makeup to tell classical stories from Chinese folklore, history, and literature.
“Performers like Jean often dedicate decades of their lives to mastering this art form, preserving techniques and stories that are centuries old,” says Lyn. They told her that they may encounter negative reactions — questions like “are you wasting your time” or simply indifference.
“Sustaining a centuries-old practice in a modern urban setting requires both resilience and passion,” says Lyn, who made this picture minutes before the performance. “I wanted to give Jean the dignity she deserves through this portrait, a strong, intimate image that acknowledges her beauty, her discipline and the life she has dedicated to Chinese opera. I hoped to make her feel seen and heard, capturing not just a performance but a living cultural legacy.”
Dreaming of a toilet
Nkgono Selina Mosima, a resident of Thaba Nchu, Free State, South Africa, has hoped for years that she could afford to dig a pit toilet in her yard.
Tshepiso Mabula/The Everyday Projects
hide caption
toggle caption
Tshepiso Mabula/The Everyday Projects
The subject is Nkgono Selina Mosima, a resident of Thaba Nchu, Free State, South Africa, a region where poverty is rampant, Mosima is one of many residents who lack proper sanitation, says Tshepiso Mabula, a photographer and writer based in Johannesburg. Her wish was to hire someone to dig a pit toilet in her yard – in which human waste is collected in a pit and allowed to break down naturally over time – but she couldn’t afford the cost. The alternative is open defecation – finding a secluded place despite the personal risks and the potential health consequences of untreated human excrement.
“I was drawn to Nkgono by her unrelenting faith and positive outlook; despite her difficult circumstances, she constantly reiterated her hope that things would improve,” says Mabula. “This inspired the framing of the portrait: the bright colors, her headscarf and the belt around her waist all serve to highlight her strength, optimism and faith.”
The picture was taken in 2020. Today, Mabula says, many women still lack safe and effective sanitation options. Nkgono was a powerful voice for action and change as she eventually could afford to dig a pit toilet on her property.
Russian footballers
These women from Voronezh, Russia, participated in the country’s short-lived but intense American-style football league. They’re hanging out in the locker room.
Kristina Brazhnikova/Everyday Russia
hide caption
toggle caption
Kristina Brazhnikova/Everyday Russia
It seems improbable — starting an American football league for women in Russia. Not soccer but football. That’s what Portugal-based photographer Kristina Brazhnikova is documenting in her project “Mighty Girls,” which she shot between 2018 and 2021.
Any Russian woman could join, regardless of age, body type or level of training, she says. Coaches from the U.S. women’s national football team participated.
In the photo, the girls from the Voronezh team “Mighty Ducks” (Gabi, Katya, and Olesia) are in the locker room of a training camp preparing for practice. Team members came up with the name, she says.
“Everything was built on enthusiasm, so the players had to study the rules and playbooks on their own. Some women were invited by friends, others were drawn to the unusual nature of the sport, and some simply wanted to improve their physical fitness,” says Brazhnikova, who is Russian herself.
After the first practice, many women decided the game wasn’t for them, she says. It requires not only strength and endurance but the ability to memorize complex plays. Players had to buy their own protective gear, pay for field rentals and cover their travel expenses to competitions in other cities.
“Those who stayed, however, found a new family,” says Brazhnikova — and a new form of expressing emotions, including aggression. The women told her that playing American football made them braver and more decisive. They allowed themselves to step outside their comfort zones and push beyond the limits of their usual lives. They changed jobs and left relationships that had run their course. And the sound of pads colliding on the field became their favorite,” she says.
The league ceased to operate in 2022.
Hunting for missing loved ones
Hilaria Arzaba Medran of Mexico stands with tools she’ll use as she searches a clandestine burial site for the grave of her son, Oscar Contreras Arzaba, who disappeared in 2011 at age 19.
James Rodríguez/Everyday Latin America
hide caption
toggle caption
James Rodríguez/Everyday Latin America
Hilaria Arzaba Medran, 57, is no stranger to loss. Her son Oscar Contreras Arzaba disappeared on May 22, 2011, at the age of 19. A resident of the Mexican state of Veracruz, she’s a member of Solecito, an organization whose 250 members go out and look for their missing relatives on a regular basis. Holding tools in this photograph taken in Feb. 20, 2018, she searches for her missing son and other victims in a location known to have served as a clandestine grave.
“This collective is primarily led by women, and I was awe-struck by their determination to find their loved ones despite horrific violence and real-life threat to their own well-being,” says photographer James Rodríguez.
On this occasion in 2018, Rodriguez and others in the group had received an anonymous tip of a possible clandestine cemetery on the outskirts of Cordoba. She went searching with several other collective members, digging tools in hand. “We went into an isolated rural field that felt macabre in itself and [we] had no sort of security personnel with us. I was truly astounded by their conviction and courage,” he says.
A demand for housing
Janaina Xavier, a community leader, holds her son in a building in São Paulo, Brazil, that was occupied by people without housing in 2024.
Luca Meola/Everyday Brasil
hide caption
toggle caption
Luca Meola/Everyday Brasil
Janaina Xavier, a community leader, holds her son while looking out the window of the building where she lives with six of her 10 children near the Cracolândia district in São Paulo, Brazil, on April 23, 2024.
She currently serves as a council member for the Coordination of Policies for the Homeless Population and advocates for the rights of people living in and around Cracolândia.
“I’ve known Janaina Xavier for many years, since I began my long-term work documenting Cracolândia in São Paulo. She has long been involved in struggles for housing rights for people living in this highly stigmatized region of the city,” says photographer Luca Meola.
This photograph was taken inside a building being illegally occupied by Xavier and dozens of other families – a way for them to secure housing in the city center.
“For many low-income families, occupying empty buildings is one of the only ways to remain in the central area and access essential services and work opportunities,” Meola says.
In 2025, the city evicted Xavier, her family and the other residents.
The mother leaders of Madagascar take charge
In the Grand South of Madagascar, women known as “reny mahomby,” or mother leaders, perform a welcoming dance before starting a session to teach women in the community how to improve their lives.
Aina Zo Raberanto/The Everyday Projects
hide caption
toggle caption
Aina Zo Raberanto/The Everyday Projects
In this photo from the Grand South of Madagascar, in Amboasary Sud, women known as “Reny Mahomby,” or “mother leaders” perform a welcoming dance.
The “mother leaders” inspire other mothers in the community to make changes in their lives – to improve hygiene, to educate their children, to start small businesses, says photojournalist Aina Zo Raberanto, who lives in this African island nation but had never before visited the Grand South.
The dance took place at the start of a training session, says Raberanto. In this photo from November 2021, she says. “These mother leaders welcome us with a traditional dance from the region. I was deeply moved by their commitment to their community.”
The mothers of Madagascar “are the pillars of the household while sometimes facing difficult realities such as violence or early marriage,” she says. “I took this photograph to show both their strength, their dignity, their joy for life and the warmth of their welcome despite the hardships. Behind their smiles and movements lies a great determination to continue supporting their families and to build a better future for their children.”
Marching for their rights
Members of Puta Davida, a feminist collective advocating for the labor and human rights of sex workers, take part in a march during Carnival in downtown Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on Feb. 14, 2026.
Luca Meola
/Everyday Brasil
hide caption
toggle caption
Luca Meola
/Everyday Brasil
This photograph was taken during Carnival in Rio de Janeiro this February.
“I have been accompanying the collective Puta Davida for about three years. [It] works to create public debate around sex work, advocating for the recognition of sex work as legitimate labor and for the protection of sex workers’ human and labor rights,” says photographer Luca Meola.
The Puta Davida is a feminist collective from Rio de Janeiro created in the early 1990s by the sex worker and activist Gabriela Leite, a historic figure in Brazil’s movement for sex workers’ rights.
“I have been accompanying the collective for about three years. [It] works to create public debate around sex work, advocating for the recognition of sex work as legitimate labor and for the protection of sex workers’ human and labor rights,” says photographer Luca Meola.
In 2026, one of the community organizations that prepares music, dance, and large performances for Carnival parades chose to dedicate its parade to sex workers
Meola, who photographed the members of this group as they marched, says: “For me, what is powerful about this moment is how these women reclaim visibility in public space. Through political organization, performance and collective presence, they challenge stigma and assert their rights — which I believe strongly resonates with this year’s theme [for International Women’s Day] of justice and action,” says Meola.
Kamala Thiagarajan is a freelance journalist based in Madurai, Southern India. She reports on global health, science and development and has been published in The New York Times, The British Medical Journal, the BBC, The Guardian and other outlets. You can find her on X @kamal_t
Detroit water main break snarls travel on East Jefferson Monday morning
Soak up sunlight in SF with these 18 fun events
Dallas weather: Storms return this week with large hail and tornado threat
Miami Dolphins releasing quarterback Tua Tagovailoa, team says
Boston’s season stays alive with dramatic buzzer-beater to advance to conference title game
Florida High School Football Rankings: Top 25 teams – Oct. 21
Cleary's 21 help Le Moyne down Central Connecticut State 69-64 in OT
How old is Bo Nix? What to know about Oregon quarterback ahead of 2024 NFL Draft
99th annual Pony Swim held in Virginia
Indiana Members Credit Union announced as new anchor tenant at Bottleworks District
Video: Airports Struggle to Staff T.S.A. During Partial Government Shutdown
Before-and-after satellite imagery offers a rare look at damage inside Iran
Hungary's opposition leader Péter Magyar calls on Russia to refrain from election interference
Video appears to show U.S. cruise missile striking Iranian school compound
Trump vows block on signing new laws until SAVE America Act passes Senate
-
Wisconsin1 week agoSetting sail on iceboats across a frozen lake in Wisconsin
-
Massachusetts6 days agoMassachusetts man awaits word from family in Iran after attacks
-
Maryland1 week agoAM showers Sunday in Maryland
-
Florida1 week agoFlorida man rescued after being stuck in shoulder-deep mud for days
-
Pennsylvania4 days agoPa. man found guilty of raping teen girl who he took to Mexico
-
Oregon1 week ago2026 OSAA Oregon Wrestling State Championship Results And Brackets – FloWrestling
-
News1 week ago2 Survivors Describe the Terror and Tragedy of the Tahoe Avalanche
-
Sports4 days agoKeith Olbermann under fire for calling Lou Holtz a ‘scumbag’ after legendary coach’s death