Who’s to blame for budol?
Goodbye O-Shopping, hello For You Page. (Photo: XS Multimedia)
Whether it’s impulse shopping, retail therapy, revenge spending, or budol, shopping has always been fascinating to me.
I’ve never been one to buy into trends quickly. Not calling myself a smart shopper. I’ve made some terrible decisions. It’s just that my mom taught me early on in life when I would try to whine and weasel my way into a pair of rubber shoes with wheels in the heel, that trends fade faster than we think. Classics—like regular rubber shoes or her compromise of light-up ones—would be forever.
But that doesn’t mean I never felt like I was losing out on being cool like my classmates who skated down the halls. It’s just that my mom didn’t let me fall victim to what would eventually become known as budol.
Derived from the Hiligaynon “budol-budol” or swindlers who rob people of their money, the slang budol was coined when traditional retail shopping became inaccessible during the pandemic and people turned to online shopping. It’s “an immediate and impulsive decision to buy something you don’t need, just because it’s available.”
Jealousy is a big driver of budol and consumerism. FOMO marketing can target consumers who might not have money to spare but feel the compulsion to have things to keep up with their peers. We think that we’ll be satisfied once we get our hands on that showroom-like condo or the newest tech device. The aspirational life is closely tied to our identities and motivations, from the days of glossy magazine pages to the endless scroll on our phone screens.
The influencer problem
With social media at the core of our lives and the creator economy becoming more and more relevant, influencer marketing has become one of the most common ways to advertise a product. And I think a few industries exhibit this like the beauty industry.
I watch a lot of beauty creators mainly on TikTok. As someone who didn’t grow up playing around with makeup, I entered my late teens to early twenties lost and clueless about most things cosmetics-related. I rely heavily on the recommendations of friends and strangers on the internet who’ve made make-up Their Brand.
Consumers are turning away from traditional advertising in favor of the more “genuine” bond with content creators and influencers. Sixty-two percent of 520 women surveyed have said they follow beauty influencers on social media and these influencers ranked first on where women go to get information about products. With the hyperpersonal and friendly approach of social media, trust between the creator and their audience is built much faster than a company with potential customers.
So when that trust starts to fray and audiences believe they’re being tricked, there is backlash. Enter the “anti-haul.”
If you’ve never heard of an anti-haul (I know I didn’t until about a week ago), it’s exactly what it sounds like: a rundown of products that you didn’t like and would not recommend. Bitch Media called it “the antidote to Youtube’s cult of consumerism.” Championed originally by Kimberly Clark who was a Youtube beauty guru and advocate for anticonsumerism, the anti-haul was the avenue for creators to admit what products they didn’t enjoy, their many shopping faux pas, and frustrations with industry oversaturation.
While not at all a new trend, the term took off among Filipino audiences after a viral Reddit thread reviewing popular beauty products and users’ “real” experiences with them. A quick scroll-through gives a glimpse into a growing displeasure with influencers.
After reaching TikTok and its hoard of influencers, there has been a response in extremes.
“Beauty by Tellie (TikTok) recently shed some light on that thread and made [really] good points and I’m so glad to see a TikToker who’s not only a Redditor but also UNDERSTANDS us.
On other hand, another famous TikToker just posted recently about the very same thread and sis, they weren’t happy 💀💀💀 Apparently, they were angry cus ppl in this subreddit were ‘blaming’ the influencers for the budol culture even if the products are just mediocre,” wrote one user in a follow-up discussion post.
It’s easy to understand where most Redditors are coming from. The anti-haul blew up on Tiktok after 11.11, one of the biggest sales for online shopping. In the weeks leading up to 11.11, tons of “11.11 recommendations” were floating around. So for creators to go on and talk about products they didn’t like—especially after singing them praises in earlier videos—feels like false advertising or a cash grab.
It's all personal
There’s a thin line to tread between promoting a product and emphasizing personal experience with it. Scroll through the same threads and you’ll find that reviews complaining about a certain product’s performance coexist with ones saying that the product worked for them.
Influencers Marj Maroket and Belle Rodolfo have made their own takes on the anti-haul. Maroket said she “doesn’t believe in anti-hauls” because what didn’t work for them might work for other people.
Rodolfo, who works as the beauty editor for L'Officiel Philippines, put a disclaimer on her anti-haul video.
“Make-up and skincare are personal and I don’t hate these products. They just don’t work in my context.” Rodolfo goes on to lay out her age, skin type, and skin tone for better background into her choices. Her followers praised her in the comments, thanking her for her consistency with previous videos.
I’ll be honest. I was super annoyed by the Redditors blaming influencers for their bad experiences. It’s almost like people forget that they have control over their money and could exercise a little critical control and responsibility over what we decide to spend on. It’s not iampatcortez’ fault that I don’t love the blush she recommended. What works for them won’t always work for me.
But I also get it. If someone I care about (and who I believed cared about me) sang praises of something that turned out to be not so great, I’d feel a little wronged. Money doesn’t come by easily so you either try to convince yourself into liking something you spent a fourth of your last paycheck on or spend your days mourning what could have been a meal or two.
In the end, buying into budol culture is a risky business that requires a lot of thinking before you click “Check Out.” Maybe log off Tiktok and do deep dives into Reddit or talk to “real people” instead.