A conversation with colleagues today had them wondering how I afford the lifestyle I lead on the pay I receive. I am, after all, known to be fond of luxury: I rent my own apartment, take dance and sculpture lessons, use quality stationery, buy art, antiques, and concert tickets, and enjoy a generally comfortable standard of living. So I thought I’d write a few words to explain how it is that I do what I do.
First of all I’m pretty clear about what I choose to spend my money on: I rarely go shopping, and almost never buy anything on impulse. I avoid what I think of as the three invisible spending drains of the typical Singaporean lifestyle: books, clothes and travel, all of which seem to consume sizeable portions of my friends’ incomes. Instead I borrow books (I’ve got memberships at both the National Library and the NUS Library); rarely buy clothes (making sure that when I do they’re the best I can afford); and I hardly ever travel (though I am considering round-the-world travel in the future, since the cost of living in most places is much cheaper than it is here at home). That leaves me more than enough to spend on the things which truly matter.
Next there’s my fairly complex personal financial management system. I don’t agree with the penny-pinching advisors who say you should spend as little as possible and save as much as you can; I think wealth ought to be enjoyed, not hoarded. The true enemy isn’t expenditure; it’s wasted money. So without going into all the details, here’s what I do: every time my monthly income arrives the very first thing I do is transfer a fixed percentage of it to a long-term savings account. Then I set aside money for my fixed costs (such as rent, water, electricity, parents, phone, internet, gym, insurance, toiletries, and transport) and further deduct any accumulated credit card bills (paid in full every month). After that I set myself three allowances: a $20-per-day budget to cover all food and minor expenses (any leftovers get dealt with at month’s end, and any excess gets billed to the next few days’ expenditure); a fairly generous budget exclusively for coffee; and a modestly comfortable one for drinks and partying. Anything left becomes discretionary spending for unforeseen purposes (such as red packets for friends’ weddings). At the end of the month I take whatever’s left, split the sum in two, and send half to savings and half to a special luxuries account I maintain as guilt-free spendng money. Any windfalls that arrive (such as bonuses) get treated in exactly the same manner: half goes to savings, half to luxury spending. It all works out surprisingly comfortably in the end.
And contrary to popular belief, I do actually lead a fairly spartan life. I own comparatively few things, and just about every object in my home is there for a reason. Junk and clutter get mercilessly purged: if something’s collecting dust, I get rid of it. I’d much rather sell possessions than buy cupboards. That attitude helps me to focus my spending only on the things that matter, and even then I find I’m increasingly paying for experiences instead of things: pens and paper, good food, concert tickets, lessons. The true value of a man, after all, subsists in what he does, not what he owns.
Interesting. I agreed with the most important aspect – that we are more likely to run out of time than money so paying for experience is always a good buy. However, I’m surprised that books were listed. A night out can buy us a few books. For me, it is harder to find the time to read them than the money to buy them :)
Thanks for the comments!
Books are listed precisely because of something you’ve correctly identified: it’s easier to buy books than to read them. The value of a book lies in its contents, not in the physical object itself (unless you’re deliberately paying for a particularly handsome edition). A book bought but left unread is essentially an article of clutter, accomplishing little while taking up space. And most people (myself included, at times) do have a tendency to buy books and leave a significant number of them unread; we have a tendency to confuse the purchase of the book with the acquisition of its contents. But the two really aren’t the same thing.
Now here’s the thing. I find that if I *borrow* books rather than buy them, I am substantially more likely to read those books because of the return-by deadline. At the same time borrowing means that the books don’t wind up as semi-permanent clutter (especially if the books aren’t very good). If I like a book enough to want to have it on hand, then I’ll buy it — resulting in a small library of oft-reread books, rather than a large dust-collecting one. Such a large collection would be, to me, a major waste of resources. I’d much rather spend the money on library membership fees — less expenditure, greater return. And that’s what I’ve done.
Re a library of books: that’s what I used to tell myself too, but it’s been nine years and I find that now I’ve been carting round a fair-sized library of loved, re-read books from Washington DC to Singapore to Jakarta …