Emily Mester’s new essay collection, *American Bulk: Essays on Excess*, is a witty and insightful exploration of our insatiable desire for more. Mester delves into the heart of American consumerism, dissecting everything from the addictive allure of Costco’s bulk-buying model to the often-overlooked realities of working seasonal retail jobs at places like Ulta Beauty. In an exclusive interview with Vogue, Mester shared the origins of her project, her unique Costco perspective, and her surprising take on a certain Addison Rae lyric.
The genesis of *American Bulk* began, unexpectedly, in graduate school. Needing an essay topic, Mester chose a subject close to her heart: Costco. “I had spent a lot of time at Costco,” she explained, “and I must have thoughts about it.” To structure her thoughts, she invited a friend to join her on a Costco expedition, documenting her observations on the absurdities of bulk-buying. “Isn’t it weird that they blister-pack that one jar of spices?” she mused, highlighting the incongruities that only an outsider might notice. The essay expanded beyond Costco, intertwining her personal reflections with observations on her family’s shopping habits, eventually evolving into a full-length book.
When asked about Costco hacks, Mester suggested a simple yet effective strategy: “If there is a thing that you want, it is always worth checking whether Costco has it; they will surprise you.” She recounted a humorous anecdote involving a misheard Addison Rae lyric, transforming “cross gold chain” into “Costco chain,” a testament to the pervasiveness of Costco’s presence in her life, and perhaps American culture as a whole. This mishearing, she noted, unexpectedly highlighted the surprising value—and somewhat less-than-glamorous appeal—of buying jewelry from the bulk retailer.
The interview delved into deeper questions about the influence of online ratings and reviews on our purchasing decisions. Mester argued that the obsession with optimization and the pursuit of the “best” product fosters a culture of negativity, making us undervalue items that aren’t ranked number one. She recounted a relatable anecdote about searching for the perfect broom, highlighting the often-minimal difference between seemingly superior and standard options. This pursuit of the optimal product, she suggests, not only limits spontaneous discovery but also restricts our appreciation of the intangible qualities of a product or experience—the “vibe,” as she puts it.
Her essay on Ulta Beauty tackled the complex relationship between the beauty and wellness industries and consumerism. Mester acknowledges the empowering aspect of skincare, providing a sense of control over one’s appearance. However, she cautions against the pitfalls of over-optimization, suggesting that focusing on achievable results rather than chasing the latest products can lead to a more sustainable and fulfilling experience. Mester’s perspective emphasizes the minimal difference in outcome between a vast array of similar products, much like the surprisingly similar results achieved by seemingly different mascaras.
Finally, when asked about an item she would never part with, Mester revealed her surprising choice: a ‘Brick,’ a small device that blocks distracting apps on her smartphone. This, she claims, is a rare purchase that actively discourages further consumption, a stark contrast to most products which often encourage additional purchases. The Brick, she concludes, showcases the physical nature of smartphone addiction and has proven to be an unexpectedly helpful tool in curbing impulsive buying behaviors. The interview leaves the reader pondering the complexities of consumer culture and the subtle yet impactful ways we interact with our possessions.
