Picture this: you’re scrolling through your favourite online store, and a planner flashes across the screen. “NEW ARRIVALS!” it says. Suddenly, your heart races and your finger hovers over the click. You don’t need another jumper or pair of trainers, but the allure of something new is irresistible. Why does this happen? Why are humans wired to crave newness, even when it’s not necessary?

Our obsession with novelty is as old as humanity itself, and it’s not just a quirk of modern consumerism.

Fundamentally, humans are hardwired for survival. As a result, we are biologically programmed to seek novelty. In our evolutionary past, paying attention to new stimuli was a survival mechanism. A new fruit on the tree could mean a fresh source of food. An unfamiliar sound in the distance might signal danger. Those who explored and experimented had a better chance of finding resources or adapting to changing environments.

Fast forward a few millennia, and this same instinct drives us to swipe right on dating apps or rush to buy the latest iPhone. Modern life offers fewer survival-based surprises, but the brain’s reward system hasn’t caught up. New experiences and objects trigger the release of dopamine, the “feel-good” neurotransmitter associated with pleasure and motivation. Each new purchase or discovery provides a fleeting rush of excitement, urging us to seek out more.

Does the dopamine hit from novelty feel excepetionally brief? It’s because it is. Pyschologists call this phenomenon the hedonic treadmill. We quickly adapt to new things, and their appeal fades over time. The jacket you couldn’t wait to own? It’s just another item in your wardrobe a few weeks later.

This adaptation creates a cycle. To recapture the excitement, we seek out something new—another gadget, another trip, another outfit. While this cycle isn’t inherently bad, it explains why we’re constantly chasing that next big thrill, even if it’s not sustainable.

If biology sets the stage for our craving for newness, culture amplifies it. In a consumer-driven world, entire industries are built on the promise of something new. Fashion thrives on micro-trends, tech companies push annual upgrades, and even social media platforms constantly tweak their algorithms to keep us engaged.

With the fashion industry’s seasonal drops and ever-changing styles, it’s designed to make last season’s wadrobe feel obsolete. Newness offers a way to reinvent ourselves, to signal that we’re in tune with the times. Wearing the latest trends isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s about status and belonging.

Meanwhile, social media has turned novelty into a dopamine-fuelled game. Every scroll brings a new post and a new “must-try” product. The algorithm thrives on our need for variety, ensuring we’re never bored—but also never satisfied.

While craving newness can inspire creativity and innovation, it also comes with drawbacks. The relentless pursuit of the latest and greatest fuels unsustainable consumption. In the fashion industry, the “throwaway culture” strains natural resources and fills landfills at alarming rates.

Instead of chasing physical possessions, consider seeking newness in experiences—trying a new cuisine, learning a new skill, or exploring a new neighbourhood. Experiences don’t wear out or lose their shine the way objects do. They create lasting memories and help satisfy that deep-seated need for variety.

Our craving for newness is a double-edged sword. It’s the reason we innovate and evolve, but it’s also the reason we accumulate clutter and strain our planet. So next time, before making a purchase, ask yourself: “Do I really need this?” Focusing on quality over quantity can help break the cycle of instant gratification.