How to save it: A lifestyle supplement

We live increasingly in a cashless society. As those struggling with the aftermath of the financial crisis might tell you, that can be literal rather than anything to do with technology and plastic.

Some, in fact, are so short of funds, but long of pride and determination, that they have relinquished their credit and debit cards in an attempt deliberately to monitor and restrain their outgoings relative to their income.

In the current climate, unfortunately, governments in some corners of the world (viz. the West) resent efforts to save, as it would seem to hamper economic momentum, and so tilt the playing field even further in favour of borrowing.

They are committed to keeping interest rates so low that cash will lose in real terms. The idea is that people will be driven, albeit reluctantly, to spend instead. In parts of the East, Gulf included, that policy decision is made dispassionately, by dint of currency pegging's requirement.

But, in fact, the contrary instinct actually prevails among households, namely to save even more to cope with current and future inflation, as opposed to spending now to react or pre-empt it.

That's because, in crisis mode, fear surpasses greed. And that's what makes the economy an unpredictable behavioural mélange rather than a pure, mathematical framework.

Naturally, saving can be a spiritual calling as well, one found in the simple philosophy of Dickens's Mr Micawber: 20 shillings in, 19 and a half shillings out, result: happiness. Modest, admirable and touching — in a way that, for the connoisseur of all things slow and considered, fast cars and fast living aren't.

It's a challenging strategy in a city like Dubai, which is conspicuously geared to its inhabitants divesting of much of their earnings, whether on entertainment, in the malls (themselves virtually recreational zones), or at one of the thousands of eateries dotted about the place, plush and not so plush alike.

It's an obvious irony that so many expats are here to put money together but find themselves surrounded deliberately by temptations to part with it.

I have a colleague who, nonetheless, is devoted to the prudential habit, who writes regular columns on her Chaplinesque ways, like how to turn your boot into a three-course dinner. Very down-to-earth, you might say. There are a few such types about.

But there's undoubtedly a lifestyle factor too out there, which can't be ignored. Should we be catering for it in this magazine, with a languid lean to luxury? Might we assume you are interested in a yacht? An expensive watch, or flash car, or fancy tailoring? For those who like a supplement with their journal, a vitamin pill to help absorb the rest of it, we might need to respond.

So far we haven't done book reviews here, or promotional puffs about prominent people and their personal pastimes. We're essentially a financial read and a reference point. No lunch with a bigwig, no oversized oracle on the cover. Nor agony aunts, or motivational mumbo-jumbo, or travel tips. Not even a crossword. Call it discernment or call it dumb, we just don't — not yet, anyway. Perhaps we should, but for the moment we either can't get the staff or haven't got the space.

Ah yes, space. The final frontier, beyond the mortal minds of editorial earthlings, where the gods design and impose their will. Yes, the gods of design. They like space — the white stuff. Plenty of it in our revamped offering. And they have a point. Well, saves writing, anyway.

So, what's it to be now? Space or lifestyle; space… or lifestyle? Force majeure this time. Here it is. Enjoy.