In the span of our adult lives, how many times have each one of us made a trip to the supermarket for groceries...or driven to the closest shopping mall for new clothes...or visited a specialty store to purchase a gift for a friend...or acquired new stuff on weekends simply as a form of entertainment? Of course, we all need basic necessities such as food and clothing, but somewhere along the line, our idea of what we require and what we desire became entirely blurred. Food may be an absolute necessity to help our bodies function properly but we want to be wined and dined. Clothing serves a practical function by helping to protect us from the elements but what we really crave are designer outfits and luxe accessories. With all of the nonstop shopping that we've engaged in, what percentage of the items that we've accumulated in our closets, cupboards, shelves, dressers and drawers, on our countertops, in our basements, attics and garages have we actually kept longer than a year before moving onto the latest, greatest and far more desirable replacement? More often than not, there are certain items that spend no more than a few months tops under our roofs before being donated or pitched, just as the manufacturers had hoped, dreamed and worked so hard to achieve.

Our culture's perpetual consumerism hasn't exactly been against our will -- some might say that we've been more than happy to emerge from big box emporiums clutching shiny plastic junk and dirt cheap disposable clothes because it stokes the flames of our desire for its future replacement. So many of us don't see the endless cycle of consumerism as a diabolical plot launched by manufacturers to ensure healthy sales through the end of eternity. We just shrug our shoulders when something breaks due to chronically flimsy workmanship or zero quality and automatically look for an upgrade. Is there anyone out there who actually doesn't look forward to getting a new one, whatever it may be? There is a something so American about heading en masse to the mall, milling through the endless array of stores while clutching a ginormous $6 Cinnabon in one hand and a non-biodegradable plastic credit card in the other. Why is new so appealing to us, and even after we've fulfilled our consumeristic wants by clogging our homesteads with far more than we could ever use in a lifetime, why is it that the shiny happy glow wears off so fast?

Whether you are inclined to believe that the push toward a more eco-friendly lifestyle or simply just recessionary belt-tightening has played into the upswing of thriftstore chic, one thing is certain -- buying new to you at less than half the price is doing the earth and our wallets a big favor. One Tokyo based company, Pass The Baton, has created a clearinghouse of people's possessions that works much in the same way as conventional flea markets, but with a modern twist. Offering a brick-and-mortar location as well as an online storefront, they enable people to list their household goods for sale and offer photos and a personal history of each item, creating what Pass The Baton refers to as a personal culture marketplace. They are interested in restoring meaning to the items that pass in and out of our lives by gently reminding consumers that there is a story behind every thing that should imbue it with more permanance. What an alien concept, and yet, how refreshing -- I certainly hope that this concept catches on. If 80% of the retailers across the world were forced to go out of business in favor of the proliferation of household recycling clearinghouses (where we could obtain the bulk of our wants and needs), I'm quite sure that we'd all be more conscious, connected and eco-responsible consumers. What are your thoughts?