Gen Zs and millennials adopting the "homesteading" lifestyle trend are onto something, writes Michelle Ogundehin.
There was a time when we referred to the inhabitants of any town, city or village as citizens. Today we call them consumers. Dictionary definition: "One who consumes, destroys, wastes or spends; that which consumes." And so it is that the three sirens of consumerism – comfort, control, and convenience – have us firmly in their grip.
It is a poignant reflection of a zeitgeist that sees many caught in a work/spend cycle promising happiness through material goods. Yet we live on a planet of finite resources, so this isn't the greatest long-term strategy. We seek comfort as a reprieve from these stresses, despite research repeatedly telling us that discomfort is the pathway to personal growth.
To top it off, convenience is making us stupid. And I don't mean metaphorically. Studies have shown that parts of our brains are literally shrinking in tandem with the exponential growth of smart technology that promises to do our thinking for us.
The quest for a quieter experience of life is not a blissed-out opt-out, or a premium version of quiet quitting
So, life rattles on at technological pace while we evolve ourselves towards redundancy, mentally soft and physically weak, running in circles like lab rats. On the face of it, what hope for our species?
Happily, we may already have the answer. And perhaps ironically, it's the much-maligned snowflake Gen Zs, alongside the millennials, who are leading the revolutionary charge. Enter the rise of the nouveau homesteader.
Cue a deep sigh and an eye-roll. I know, it tends to conjure images of women in expensive wellies and floral-print dresses filling Mason jars with colourful pickles while rosy-cheeked children play in homely kitchens.
But here's the thing: while this vision may be a stark contrast to many people's current reality, the quest for a quieter experience of life is not a blissed-out opt-out, or a premium version of quiet quitting. This is a considered vote for a different way to live, with its roots firmly in a deep scepticism of the governance, companies and systems – food to pharmacological – that we've become accustomed to relying upon.
It's a deliberate rejection of the status quo, not simply one step up from an obsession with Gardener's World. It's also not a choice exercised only by those able to buy acres of land in the rural backwaters of America. This is happening in the heart of our cities, for people with neither backyard nor allotment.
Clips doing the rounds on Instagram underline the broader motivations. Over videos of vegetable picking, kombucha fermenting, kefir making or sourdough baking (nothing if not the tropes of the nouveau homesteader), a soothing voiceover gently intones, "I think millennials are going to be the generation that simply try to make it work… They finally realised that the scam of convenience was making them sicker and sadder day by day, so they became more self-sufficient. And they discovered traditions of old that were never taught to them and brought them back to life."
This isn't simply a hipster lifestyle here-today-gone-tomorrow trend, all crumpled linen and wafting around with a trug
"They're starting to find the joy in simplicity, running away from the unsustainable pace being set by the rest of society," it goes on. "In the heat of constant news cycles and cultural panic in every corner, I think this generation will finally be the one that took us back to a much better way of life."
Admittedly, there is a level of means that makes such an "exit the Matrix" move (as it's also been dubbed) possible, but this isn't simply a hipster lifestyle here-today-gone-tomorrow trend, all crumpled linen and wafting around with a trug. It stands on the shoulders of the revival of the analogue, the resurgence of knitting and the popularity of gardening that so many have found solace in over the last few years.
It reflects a continued awakening to the benefits of a life lived slowly enough to have meaning on a human-needs-first scale, recognising that our most precious resource is not our money, but our time. It's about cutting through the trivial to find the essential. A simplicity that has you asking yourself: how much is enough? We still want to shop. But less. And better. More consciously.
It's an empowering shifting of priorities. Think connection, community, conversation rather than the earlier cited comfort, control and convenience. As Emily Ballesteros, author of The Cure for Burnout: How to Find Balance and Reclaim Your Life, writes: "We have been a work-centred society for generations; however, it's becoming increasingly harder to convince people to live a busy, work-centred life when it doesn't translate to the quality of life that it used to."
However, I contest the idea of a hallowed hinterland when everything was rosy. It seems to me that the path to the present day has been small, determined steps, but resolutely in the same direction. I'll concede only that perhaps it's happened so slowly we didn't notice the water getting hotter until the pot exploded in 2020 and we managed to hop out for a while.
Even in 1854, Henry David Thoreau observed in Walden, his treatise on intentional self-reliance, the benefits of nature and a life stripped of unnecessary materialism, that "the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation". In a later chapter he added: "Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind."
What if those who've chosen to slow down and smell the sourdough are right?
According to Rob Hopkins, author of From What Is to What If: Unleashing the Power of Imagination to Create the Life We Want, the answer lies in re-activating our collective powers of creativity. As he puts it, "Socially and politically, we're promoting policies, regulations and lifestyles that are making people ill to such a degree that stress, trauma and anxiety are woven through the social fabric." But, he argues, what if, "with imagination, the things that currently look like intractable problems are actually huge opportunities for new thinking?"
So, what if those who've chosen to slow down and smell the sourdough are right? What if we could return to being citizens in neighbourhoods focused on local regeneration and community gardens, rather than consumers? What if, we try to treat the cause of our ailments rather than dosing up on the fast, cheap and easy in order to conceal the symptoms?
Slightly a case of stating the blinding obvious, but, what if a return to urban homesteading is part of the solution?
Michelle Ogundehin is a thought leader on interiors, trends, style and wellbeing. Originally trained as an architect and the former editor-in-chief of ELLE Decoration UK, she is the head judge on the BBC's Interior Design Masters, and the author of Happy Inside: How to Harness the Power of Home for Health and Happiness, a guide to living well. She is also a regular contributor to publications including Vogue Living, FT How to Spend It magazine and Dezeen.
The photo, showing Farmworker's House by Hugh Strange Architects in Cornwall, is by Jason Orton.
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