Once upon a time, millennials were mocked for their “little luxuries”. Avocado toast. Flat whites. Brunch. Every £4 coffee was held up as proof of why a generation couldn’t buy homes.
Fast forward ten years and those same millennials — now in their thirties and early forties — have largely settled into financial realism. Budgets exist. Treats are weighed up. And the cultural spotlight has shifted to a new generation: Gen Z.
But this time, the treats look different.
Instead of café breakfasts and barista coffee, Gen Z’s indulgences are quieter, more functional, and oddly premium. A £12.50 build-your-own lunch salad from places like Farmer J. A bottle of hand soap from Aesop that costs more than a weekly food shop once did. Matcha lattes, collagen powders, high-tech trainers, and wellness-coded purchases that blur the line between necessity and luxury.
This isn’t reckless spending. It’s treatonomics — the modern logic of spending small (but regular) amounts on things that promise control, optimisation, or comfort in an unstable world.
Gen Z came of age during overlapping crises: a pandemic, rising rents, stagnant wages, and constant economic anxiety. Home ownership feels distant. Long-term planning feels abstract. So value shifts. The “treat” becomes something immediate, contained, and justifiable.
A £12.50 salad isn’t framed as indulgence — it’s framed as health. A £33 soap isn’t frivolous — it’s self-care. These purchases carry moral permission. They’re not about showing off; they’re about feeling looked after.
There’s also a cultural shift in where spending happens. Eating out in the evening is expensive and social. Lunch treats are solo, controlled, and efficient. They fit neatly into hybrid working days and flexible schedules. A premium lunch feels manageable in a way a £70 dinner doesn’t.
Critics may roll their eyes, just as they did with millennials and avocado toast. But the underlying behaviour is familiar. When big milestones feel unattainable, people focus on what is achievable. Small upgrades. Daily comforts. Purchases that make life feel slightly better, even if briefly.
What’s changed is the language. Treats are no longer guilty pleasures — they’re investments in wellbeing. And Gen Z are fluent in that vocabulary.
Whether this spending is sustainable is another question. But as with every generation before them, Gen Z isn’t inventing irresponsibility — they’re adapting to the economic reality they’ve inherited.
And if a £12.50 salad makes that reality feel more manageable, even for an hour, it’s easy to see why it’s worth it.
Leave a Reply