"But I like nice things"

Good. Nothing in this book asks you to stop.

This objection matters, because there's a reading of the last eleven chapters that ends with an empty flat, a capsule wardrobe and a slightly smug expression. I don't want that for you and I don't think it follows. The argument has been about one kind of purchase, the one made for the lift. It's an argument for buying on purpose, which usually means buying better things and enjoying them more.

So which purchases do pay? This is what I think the evidence and ordinary experience suggest.

Things you use often. Adaptation dulls the pleasure of having a thing, but it does much less to the pleasure of using a good tool. A sharp knife is nice every time you cut an onion, and a comfortable chair goes on being comfortable every evening you sit in it. If something will be in your hands most days, it's worth spending real money on.

Things you wanted for a long time. A want that has lasted six months has been through good moods and bad, paydays and lean weeks, and it's still there. There's a bonus too. A planned purchase gives you the wanting and the waiting that chapter 3 described, only over months. You get more of the enjoyable part.

Time. Ashley Whillans and colleagues surveyed more than six thousand people in four countries and found that those who spent money on time-saving services were more satisfied with their lives. In a field experiment, working adults were happier after a purchase that saved them time than after buying an object. If there's a chore that sours every Saturday, paying to be rid of it may do more for you than any parcel.

Experiences, with a caution. Leaf Van Boven and Thomas Gilovich found that people reported more happiness from money spent on doing than from money spent on having. The finding became famous and then, as famous findings do, got overstated. Evan Weingarten and Joseph Goodman pooled 141 studies and confirmed the advantage, but judged that about a third of it might be down to publication bias. It was weaker for solitary experiences and for people with less money, for whom a useful object can matter a great deal. So I'd put it modestly. A meal with friends is often a better use of sixty-eight pounds than a bag nobody needs. That doesn't make every experience better than every object.

Other people. Elizabeth Dunn, Lara Aknin and Michael Norton found that people who spent more of their income on others were happier, and that people randomly assigned to spend money on someone else reported more happiness than those assigned to spend it on themselves.

All these purchases have one thing in common, which is that the pleasure is still going after the delivery. You go on using the tool, you get your Saturday mornings back, you remember the meal and your friend is touched by the present. A lift purchase is nearly the only kind where the pleasure is over when the thing turns up.

So like nice things. Want them for a while, choose them carefully and pay what they're worth. Then use them until they wear out.