Magic Retail Therapy
The annual Blackpool Magic Convention recently took place in England. I live in the Philippines now (as mentioned here) so I did not attend but, for many magicians, it’s a highlight of the year—a time to reconnect with friends who share our passion for magic, immerse ourselves in inspiring lectures from talented performers and thinkers, and witness the unveiling of the latest "must-have" novelties. These gatherings also bring something else into sharp focus: the powerful commercial force that drives much of modern magic culture.
Magic retail therapy
Present at conventions and online magic shops alike, the commercial side of magic is impossible to ignore. Hours spent browsing new releases often lead me to reflect on a recurring topic: let's call it "magic retail therapy". Inspiration for this reflection struck during a lecture I saw by Max Maven at the Essential Magic Conference in 2010. Listening to Maven’s insights, I was struck by his thoughts on the rise of close-up magic being marketed to the general public. Genius as always: he traced this shift back to societal changes brought about by the Industrial Revolution. Once magic became a marketable commodity, it was bound to inherit the same pitfalls as other consumer-driven industries. Like all markets, it became susceptible to trends and impulsive consumption. Deep down, this commercialization alters how we engage with the art itself. Suddenly, the temptation of retail therapy becomes a familiar trap. The idea stayed with me: when magic becomes a product, it risks losing some of its deeper, creative essence. Each purchase might feel meaningful, but it often serves as a temporary distraction. It’s a reminder that the pitfalls of consumerism affect even our most cherished passions. Navigating this landscape requires awareness—so we can keep the magic alive without letting retail impulses dull our creativity.
Retail therapy, as a term, refers to shopping with the intention of improving one’s mood or coping with stress. Though the phrase itself only gained popularity in the 1980s, the behavior has existed for much longer—likely emerging alongside the rise of consumer culture during the Industrial Revolution, when mass production made goods more accessible. If magic became commercialized in that same era, could it be that the darker side of consumer habits crept into our magic world at the same time?
So how does this pattern of retail therapy actually work, especially within the context of magic? It begins with stress, often from our daily lives—whether that’s related to work, personal struggles, or creative blocks. That stress acts as a trigger, and buying something new offers a temporary escape. For magicians, the justifications are particularly seductive. We tell ourselves, "This will make me stand out," "I’m just curious about the method," or "Maybe this will inspire my next big idea." But let’s pause for a moment and examine these reasons.
"This will make me stand out."
The idea that a mass-produced trick can make us unique is inherently flawed; Guy Hollingworth reflects on that issue in his book Drawing room deceptions. It’s like a teenager who thinks they’re expressing their individuality by wearing the latest trend—when, in reality, that same style has cycled through generations before them. I was born in 1983 so I was a teenager around the mid to late 1990s; unsurprisingly, I was influenced by "The Matrix", I wore Neo's signature black trenchcoat (no I won't send you that photo), thinking I was "so deep and different". Instead of discovering their true self, trend-following teenagers risk blending into the crowd, and the same applies to magicians who rely too heavily on trendy tricks. We already have waves of Rubik's cube, propless mentalism, smartphone apps, etc.
(Trends can also benefit us and our art. For example, we've seen a positive move toward more meaning in magic, and more collaborative approach with the audience, instead of just fooling them.)
"I’m just curious about the method."
Curiosity about a method is understandable, especially since magic thrives on secrets. But too often, we’re sold the illusion of "a discovery that would shake the foundations of the entire magic industry", only to be disappointed, or get a variation on something we’ve seen before, or (in other worst cases) get an old method disguised as new by those who prey on gaps in our knowledge.
"Maybe this will inspire my next big idea."
Then there’s the hope that a purchase will inspire us creatively. This is perhaps the most deceptive justification because, on rare occasions, it does happen. Here is a positive example:
I talked about peek devices in my blog. I bought Pitata's Memopad two years ago to use it for my "Wine Psychometry" routine (described in my Penguin Lecture), and it also ended up inspiring me the solution for what is now my favorite closeup mentalism piece.
But more often, the prop or method is so narrowly tailored to a specific routine that it offers little room for adaptation, leaving us stuck with a tool that doesn’t fit our style or creative needs. I'm paraphrasing French magician Merlin here: we should never buy a stage illusion; we should just buy the blueprint, because we have to adjust it to our partner's body, and decorate it in a way that's consistent with our show.
Dangerous therapy
Why is this harmful? Buying magic isn’t inherently bad—I buy books, props, and tricks myself, particularly when I need something specific for a project or out of genuine interest in the subject. I’ve even written about some of these purchases here, like Joshua Jay’s "Particle System", or John Riggs' impression pad. But when retail therapy becomes a coping mechanism, it can lead to deeper issues.
Declining judgement
One of the most insidious effects of falling into this pattern is that it gradually shifts our internal standards of what we consider to be good magic. Initially, we may start with a sharp sense of what constitutes meaningful, impactful magic. But as we expose ourselves repeatedly to mass-produced tricks and flashy, but shallow, methods, our baseline for what is considered "good" subtly begins to shift. For example, after years of marveling at the (legitimate) technological achievements at our disposal, the smartphone has ultimately become an acceptable, even magical, accessory; in reality, it is a perversion of our art, which I discuss in another article.
Crazy weak methods can initially be recognized as such. Reactions from the audience feel hollow, and the method is lazy. As time passes, repeated exposure to subpar tricks—through trailers, impulse buys, or overhyped releases—can normalize mediocrity. Inevitable dulling of our instincts follows, making once-cheap or gimmicky effects seem acceptable. Gradually, this shift isn’t just about personal taste—it shapes how we create, perform, and connect with our audience. Performance quality suffers as expectations lower, both from the material and ourselves. Each exposure to mediocrity subtly weakens our creative standards. The danger lies in not realizing how far our appreciation can slip. Too often, what once felt unworthy begins to seem “good enough.” Your art deserves better—and so do you.
Illusionary growth
The illusion of discovering "good magic" through these purchases is particularly dangerous. The initial thrill of acquiring something new can be mistaken for creative progress. We convince ourselves that we’re evolving as an artist simply by buying more, but in reality, we’re just filling a drawer with forgotten props. This creates a false sense of growth—an illusion of moving forward when, in truth, we’re standing still.
Another problem arises from the gap between buying and doing. Purchasing a trick often gives us a fleeting sense of accomplishment, but owning a secret isn’t the same as mastering it. Many magicians, myself included at times, have drawers full of forgotten gimmicks. The act of buying feels like it should be progress, yet the true work lies in rehearsing, refining, and integrating a new effect into our repertoire. Buying without action creates a cycle of passive consumption, robbing us of the genuine joy of discovery and development that comes from actually doing magic.
Gradual damage
This isn’t so different from how other unhealthy coping mechanisms work—whether it’s alcohol, bad food habits, etc. The damage isn’t always obvious at first. It creeps in gradually, until we start praising ideas or props that, in hindsight, aren’t worthy of our admiration. Before we know it, our creative instincts and appreciation for quality magic have been dulled.
Hope & solutions
But there is hope—and plenty of it. Solutions exist and are within our reach.
On a surface level, a simple way to avoid falling into the trap of magic retail therapy is to slow down the buying process—give yourself a 48-hour pause (or days) before making any purchase to reflect on whether it truly serves your creative goals or is just a quick stress fix.
Instead of dropping money on single-purpose props, attend lectures or dive into magic books. A good lecture or book often costs the same—or even less—than the latest hyped effect, but it offers so much more. When I was a teenager, I saved a lot of money (and frustration) by moving away from impulse buys and toward learning. Books, in particular, push us to imagine ourselves performing, instead of just copying what we see on a screen.
Finding a supportive community with similar views can also be invaluable, offering encouragement for positive decisions and gently warning you against unnecessary purchases. If your friends think that appearing parasols (a collapsable, easy-to-hide object) is amazing magic, or that the latest half-naked starlet is peak music, or that whatever TV series is a "must watch" because "It really becomes great after season 7!"... then maybe change your friends.
On a deeper level, it’s essential to understand what triggers your urge to buy magic. Recognizing the underlying cause—whether it’s stress, boredom, or creative frustration—can help you break the cycle. One resource I found incredibly useful for understanding and reshaping habits is "The Power of Habit" by Charles Duhigg. This book changed the way I think about my daily behaviors and how to take control of them.
Moving forward
This isn’t a hopeless situation. Far from it. By recognizing the issue and equipping ourselves with the right tools, we can break free from unhealthy patterns and rediscover the joy of magic on our own terms. We love magic—we love thinking about it, practicing it, and sharing it with audiences. That passion is what drives us, and it’s far stronger than any passing trend or impulse purchase. It starts with awareness, and from there, the possibilities are limitless.
