How would you invest if nobody was looking?

If you’ve ever paused before pressing ‘Post’ on a holiday snap and wondered how many likes you’d get, you already understand one of the most powerful forces in personal finance: the audience in our heads.  We don’t just ‘buy’ things; we perform them.  Cars become costumes.  Houses become billboards.  Even portfolios get curated for cocktail‑party applause.

But investment markets don’t clap.  They compound.  And the gap between what earns recognition today and what funds a dignified retirement tomorrow can be the difference between a confident later life and a financially anxious one.

So, once the cameras are off, let’s ask a simple, disarming question:  ‘How would I invest if nobody was looking?’  Understanding that our money choices make a lot more sense when we stop overestimating how much strangers care about them – and pick substance over spectacle.  In short – less posturing, more grinding.

The recognition trap (aka ‘performative portfolios’)

Status‑seeking is not evil – it’s human.  The trouble starts when our financial lives tilt toward being seen rather than being solvent.  That same interview highlights a helpful test – ‘If nobody but those closest to you could see your life, what would you do differently – what would you still want?’  Many of the items we buy for applause evaporate under that spotlight, while quietly durable choices – a reliable bakkie, a cottage with a view you enjoy, time with people you love – stay put.  The investment equivalent?  Boring automation diversified balanced funds, emergency savings, pragmatic insurance.  None of which photograph well, all of which compound beautifully.

Recognition chasing also warps our risk.  It tempts us toward the dazzling, the immediate, the post‑worthy – anything that promises a quick ‘wow.’   The best long‑term results seldom depend on spectacular short‑term wins.  Nearly average returns for an above‑average period beats sprinting toward riches and tripping at the first or second hurdle.  Maybe this is a boring message, it’s certainly not sexy, but it is the basis of a sensible retirement plan.

The hidden tax of signalling

The most expensive things we buy are often the ones we buy specifically for peer approval.  It’s not just the obvious culprits (cars, kitchens, watches), but also the neighbourhood where we live, the schools where we educate our children, how long we fund adult children, and the ‘must‑have’ Plett holidays we feel obliged to bankroll.

Consider education.  A very sane piece of planning advice given in a previous Trendline article by Dave Johnson noted the ‘Eight‑year rule’ whereby many South African children need financial backing for as long as eight years after school, once you tally degrees, diplomas, and low‑paid internships.  That’s no moral judgement; it’s our labour market.  But it means parents must plan for this extended support – and then have the discipline to catch up on retirement when the children finally fly.

These boring provisions fly in the face of the far more attractive trappings of cars, clothes and the second (and sometimes even a third) holiday home at St Francis Bay, Franschhoek, and Elephant Point.

And then there’s the glittering siren of property choices, which becomes more attractive after watching every episode of ‘Selling Cape Town’ on DSTV.  The semigration wave has taught many families a subtle lesson – ‘you don’t live in a house price index; you live in a budget’.  Swapping a Gauteng home for a Western Cape address can feel like a lifestyle upgrade, but the price gap often forces retirees to sink too much of their capital into one immovable, non‑income‑producing asset – the opposite of diversification.  It’s a classic case of chasing a wealthy postal code, inadvertently becoming ‘house‑rich, retirement income‑poor’.

FOMO: the world’s most persuasive (and expensive) financial advisor

Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) is a social emotion that masquerades as an investment strategy.  It is also a dangerous financial reaction.  We see someone else apparently getting richer and immediately reflect upon our own public persona, making knee-jerk competitive reactions.  Meanwhile (and didn’t we already know this?), the durable way to build wealth is a stubbornly un‑viral ‘get-rich-slow’ process.  Understanding and then accepting this is not just easier on your blood pressure; it’s friendlier to your retirement maths.

FOMO’s cousin is ‘Shiny Object Syndrome’ – especially around ‘non‑yielding or speculative assets’.  There’s a place for gold, art, classic cars, and crypto in the appropriate discretionary portfolios, but they’re best treated as small, satellite exposures once the core plan is funded.

Otherwise, we’re swapping compounding for collectables and calling it diversification (remembering that many ‘non‑yielders’ come with additional costs such as storage, insurance, liquidity, and valuation headaches – the hidden paperwork of passion).  And then there’s CGT and estate duty…

The quiet villain:  Lifestyle creep disguised as ‘self‑care’

Here’s a behavioural tell – ‘when withdrawals become easier than budgets’, the plan is in trouble.  The new Two‑pot system has made it simpler to access a portion of retirement savings for emergencies – a rational concession to real‑world shocks.  But early data from counselling conversations show that many withdrawals aren’t for emergencies at all.  Many Two-pot withdrawals being made are for normal monthly life that has drifted upward (think fees, subscriptions, apps, and edible indulgences that remain delicious but are substantially non-productive from a saving perspective).  The result is a long‑term hit to compound growth for the short‑term comfort of not trimming the debit orders.

Meanwhile, longevity is quietly rewriting the retirement script.  This has been written about in previous Trendline’s (and again in this one).  Accordingly, in this article we’re merely noting this evolving reality, we’re not trying to resolve it.  This arithmetic doesn’t resolve without the prerequisite behavioural changes – start earlier, contribute more, spend less.  None of these behaviours make for good Instagram photos, they just make for good retirements.

Investing with the audience switched off – a behavioural playbook

Think of the following as a checklist you could hand to a trusted friend and say, ‘If I get dazzled by applause, please read this back to me.’

‘Define your internal scoreboard.’  Decide what your savings are actually for, aligning spending with savings.  The less you outsource satisfaction to stranger’s opinions, the more you can fund the quiet priorities that really make you content.

Automate the invisible:  Set your contractual retirement savings (RA’s, tax‑free savings, voluntary additional contributions, etc.) to run ‘before’ lifestyle happens. Strategic allocations, tax minimisations, tangible plans, and a strong will are all required – see that the boring arithmetic has your back.

Favour ‘average for longer’’ over ‘spectacular for a minute’:   That means broad diversification, sane asset allocation, and discipline through cycles. The point is not to look clever but to compound reliably.

Quarantine your status spending: Give yourself a modest, explicit ‘peacock budget.  Want the fancy watch or the car upgrade? Great – pay cash for this from the allocated line item.  Containing signalling prevents it from quietly annexing the whole plan (and makes the occasional splurge so much sweeter).

Turn generosity into policy, not a vibe: Love your adult children – and your future self – by agreeing timelines, milestones, and ‘stop dates.’   Swap permanent allowances for transitional scaffolding: help with CVs, pay rent for a finite number of months, co‑pay on ‘specific’ expenses.  Write it down.  Revisit it.  Otherwise, the Bank of Mom & Dad becomes a very friendly asset‑liability mismatch.

Let property serve the plan, not your personal brand: Before you buy in a hot postcode or swap provinces for lifestyle, model the opportunity cost – how much capital will be trapped in bricks, what yield (net of costs) is realistic, and what risk you’re taking on municipal performance.

Outsource willpower to systems:  Set rules like ‘we don’t use the Two‑pot for non‑emergencies, subscriptions get audited every six months, and salary increases go 70% to investing, 30% to lifestyle.  Willpower burns out – written down rules and systems don’t.

Respect the longevity maths: If your expected retirement might last 35 years, ‘capital preservation’ in your early 60s can be more dangerous than sensible equity exposure. The most common mistake GTC planners see isn’t excessive risk, it’s ‘excessive caution’ that fails to outpace inflation over a much longer retirement.

Schedule a standing appointment with someone who’s not scared of telling you the truth:  Annual reviews with a professional planner keep goals, risk, and reality aligned – and rein in the very human tendency to drift when markets are calm or panic when they’re not.

Keep your fun money pragmatically contained: Be proudly boring.  If you itch for the thrill, see that it’s really an investment (hint – cars seldom are), defined in size and cost, documented, and downstream of the plan. Curiosity is a feature.  Portfolio lunges are a bug.  None of this looks thrilling.  That’s the point.  Thrills are for weekends; funding is for your 80’s.

Why ‘quiet money’ is often the kind that lasts

The applause economy punishes subtlety, but compounding ‘rewards’ it.  Quiet money survives bad seasons because it’s set up to do so.  Quiet money scales with time because fees, taxes, and emotions don’t eat it alive.  Quiet money serves the life you want (more autonomy, less anxiety) rather than the story you hope others believe.

Wealth is not only about what you have; it’s also about what you want. Shrinking the want‑list is the one lever you control fully – and it may be the most powerful retirement tool you’ll ever touch. The day you stop competing in other people’s mental talent shows, is the day your investments can get on with their quiet, compounding work.

Invest like nobody’s looking.  The future‑you is the only audience that matters.