Blog # 4 - Gear Acquisition Syndrome

Gear Acquisition Syndrome

I think it’s serious.

I didn’t mean to end up like this.

It started with one camera. Then I needed a lens for that camera. Then another body appeared, because it was cheap and “sort of interesting.” And now, somehow, I own around 20 vintage cameras, a shelf full of random lenses, a Sony A7III with actual G Master glass, a drone, a vlogging setup, several tripods I rarely use, and a Soviet light meter that doesn’t even work.

Gear Acquisition Syndrome. GAS. Apparently it’s a thing.

Some lenses, some dont fit any cameras I own.

It creeps up slowly

You don’t notice it at first. You’re just browsing Vinted or Facebook Marketplace, trying to find something to fill a gap. Maybe a wide-angle. Maybe a macro. Maybe just something you haven’t used before.

Then one day you realise you’re not really looking for gear you need, you’re just looking for vintage gear under £10.

That’s where I’m at. Vinted seller messages like:

“This is genuinely my absolute max. I have nothing else.”…

Followed by me buying something else from someone else half an hour later.

I’ve started buying M42 mount bodies, which obviously means I now need a full set of M42 lenses. I mean, what kind of monster uses a Olympus OM1n with only one lens?

The family knows

Emma’s noticed.

There’s always a moment now when a box arrives and she doesn’t even ask what it is, just looks at me, looks at the label, and walks away with a little sigh.

Bow’s picked up on it too. Five years old and already fluent in sarcasm:

“What have you ordered now, Daddy?”

Like it’s part of the morning routine, get up, eat breakfast, shame Dad for his poor life choices!

To be fair, they’re right. Most of this stuff doesn’t get used. Some of it probably never will. But the truth is, it’s not really about the gear.

Obviously I needed one of these Kodaks!

It’s about the hobby, not the photos

I think some of us get into photography because it’s a good excuse to focus on one thing at a time. There’s comfort in lists and kits and fiddling with settings. It’s not really about sharper images or better colour science. It’s about the process. About having a thing that pulls you in far enough that the rest of the world gets a bit quieter for a while.

I’ve never been diagnosed with anything, but let’s say my brain likes systems. Gear. Planning. Collecting. There's something satisfying about knowing how things fit together. There’s a dopamine hit from ticking something off a wishlist. And photography gives me a version of that that feels creative instead of obsessive.

That’s probably why GAS hits people like me hardest. We’re not chasing gear to show off or keep up, we’re chasing that quiet headspace. That sense of control.

The ridiculous and the brilliant

At the lower end of the budget, GAS can actually be quite fun. Like collecting weird vinyl or old toys (Vinyl yes, toys no). You find something quirky, you clean it up, you run a roll through it or bolt it to an adapter and shoot a rose in the garden. That part still makes me smile.

I’ve got a Leningrad 4 light meter from the USSR. Doesn’t work. Don’t care. It’s like Cold War clutter. It was a fiver and looks cool on a shelf (well to me anyway).

My amazing soviet light meter, that doesn't work.

But there’s also the other side. The guilt pile. The shelf of “I’ll definitely try that soon” gear that quietly collects dust. The realisation that you’re not actually taking more photos, you’re just acquiring more stuff.

I’ve had to draw a line.

Where I’m at now

The main GAS phase is mostly over. The G Master lenses I needed for proper photography are in place. The Sony A7III covers what I want. I’ve got the tripod setup, the drone, the mics, the lighting, the vlog cam. It’s done. Complete.

Sort of.

I still have a quick look now and then. If something vintage pops up for under £10, I’m going to be interested. That’s the rule. It’s not GAS anymore, it’s treasure hunting.

What’s changed is I no longer feel like I need more gear. It’s not about chasing the next thing. It’s about enjoying the hobby fully. The photography, the messing about with old lenses, the occasional moment of actually capturing something I’m proud of.

And the hobby room helps. Bow writes or draws while I faff around cleaning a Zenit-E I’ve never loaded with film. It’s peaceful. It works.

And hey, at least when I die…

Emma once said:

“At least when you die, I’ll have a camera collection that might be worth something.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her most of it’s ex-Soviet or East German plastic. The kind of stuff that’s worth £20 if it comes with the original manual and a man named Hermann to vouch for it.

But she’s not wrong. It’s a legacy, of sorts. One mistake at a time.

So yeah…

Gear Acquisition Syndrome is real. And it can spiral.

But it can also be part of something good. A way to commit to a hobby that gives your brain a break. A way to reconnect with doing, not just scrolling. A way to chase curiosity without needing to win anything.

If you’ve got GAS, don’t beat yourself up about it. Maybe just set a budget. Maybe don’t tell your partner about every delivery. And definitely don’t let your kid start keeping a note of your purchases.

Although… if she did, I’d probably ask to see it. Just for the list.

A knackered Pentax ME - Ill do something with at some point.