It started the way most things do lately—with a banner ad I wasn’t really looking at. Spring event, it said. Something about saving more when you buy more. I almost closed the tab. But the photo had this pale blue Bespoke fridge that looked exactly like something out of a magazine kitchen, and for a second, I let myself imagine what it might feel like to open one that didn’t groan or stick every time I pulled.
I wasn’t planning to shop. Really. I was just kind of browsing, the way you do when it’s cold outside but you don’t want to do dishes and your phone’s already at 12%. But the site was clean. Not trying too hard. There was something… slow about it. Which I liked.
I scrolled through deals on TVs first—because that’s the safe place to start, right? Everyone wants a better screen. But then I saw the “Buy More, Save More” banner. And that’s where things got dangerous. Because now I wasn’t just looking at a TV—I was doing math. Bad math. The kind where you convince yourself you’re saving money by spending it.
Save $100 when you spend $1,000. Save $200 when you spend $2,000. Save $300 at $3,000. I don’t know who designed that price ladder, but they knew exactly what they were doing. I found myself bundling a Galaxy Tab for my niece’s birthday. And a microwave that matches the fridge. And a soundbar. (Okay that one was unnecessary, but music sounds flat without bass. That’s just science.)
What surprised me, though, was how smooth the whole thing felt. Like no pop-ups yelling “wait, don’t leave!” No checkout drama. Even the shipping times were reasonable, which is saying something these days.
I remember reading this New York Times piece last year about how Samsung was trying to create more cohesive buying experiences—less chaos, more warmth. I didn’t fully get it then. But I think I do now.
I ended up spending more than I should have. That part is true. But I also feel like—for once—it wasn’t impulsive. It was considered. Like choosing things I actually wanted to use, not just click. There’s something oddly comforting about investing in your space, you know? Especially after a couple years where home didn’t always feel like home.
The fridge? It’s not here yet. But I keep checking the tracking page like a kid waiting on a toy. It’s silly. And kind of sweet.
I didn’t think a spring sale would mean much. But this one did. Maybe because it didn’t feel like just a sale. It felt like someone somewhere remembered that shopping doesn’t have to be stressful. Sometimes it can feel like choosing comfort. Like choosing to make your space a little softer. A little more yours.
And yeah. I’ll probably try to justify it again when the fall event rolls around. But for now? I’m standing in my kitchen with the old fridge humming behind me. And I’m excited. That counts for something.
