As President Donald Trump’s August 29th deadline for new tariffs rolled around, the first thing that I thought of was 2026 planners. In July, Trump signed an executive order essentially killing a little-known but highly consequential trade rule, which meant that purchases coming from abroad — like $100 in planners and accessories — could enter the US duty-free. My preferred planner, the Hobonichi Techo, is printed and shipped from Japan. With the de minimis exemption removed, my tax bill could be between $15 and $100 — or more, depending on how the increased costs are factored. Was I willing to risk paying as much in fees, duties, and shipping as my items cost, essentially doubling the cost?
For months, Americans — and businesses abroad — have lived in something resembling a hostage situation. Trump’s tariffs have boomeranged back many times over; terms are negotiated, canceled, and reinstated more times than anyone can count. Shoppers stock up on what they predict will go up in price. US consumers are already absorbing the costs of Trump’s trade policies, even if they don’t immediately notice it. But the end of the de minimis exemption that we all benefited from will hit people like a ton of bricks. A new era of US consumerism is upon us, and it’s starting to get ugly.
A new era of US consumerism is upon us
In the lead-up to August 29th, it became increasingly clear which industries would feel the effects of additional import duties. Some Lego parts are now unavailable for purchase from North America. Secondhand camera sellers on eBay have been thrust into the eye of the storm while trying to sell to US shoppers, while other eBay listings for old video games include alerts that US-based customers might have ignored previously: “Due to US policies, import fees for this item will need to be paid to customs or the shipping carrier on delivery,” reads one item page. Vinyl record collectors reported having orders canceled that were shipping from abroad. Mechanical keyboard companies have warned US shoppers that their orders would soon be subject to additional taxes.
The domino effect extends to areas people might not have considered. Take the knitting and sewing industries: overnight, my Instagram feed became a steady stream of craft supply companies issuing notices to US-based shoppers. UK-based Merchant & Mills, which sells sewing patterns, tools, and fabric from all over the world, announced on August 21st that it would increase US prices by 15 percent to cover duties up front. On August 29th, the company issued another update, this time saying it was suspending all US orders of products originating from India, after sky-high 50 percent taxes kicked in. (India has a rich history of textile production and is the second-largest producer of cotton in the world.)
Some companies have paused orders altogether as postal systems across the world stop delivering packages to the US. Every knitter knows, for example, that some of the best yarn in the world comes from Europe — in the last few weeks, yarn company after yarn company posted apologetic statements telling US shoppers that they simply won’t be able to place orders for the time being while the companies figure out how to proceed. One announcement that particularly took me by surprise: Working Class History, a popular Instagram account and podcast, announced last week that it would stop shipping T-shirts printed in France to US shoppers.
It’s not just the crafting industry that is feeling the immediate effects of the end of de minimis. Fans of Asian beauty and skincare products must meticulously track where they can still order from — a small but dedicated community trying to make sense of a trade war waged for no good reason.
It is not just low-cost products or fast fashion that will take a hit: luxury apparel retailer SSENSE, based in Canada, now displays customers duties at checkout. (A $326 Bape hoodie, for example, would incur an additional $69.83 in taxes.) And there are signs that the end of de minimis could have long-term, potentially fatal consequences: SSENSE filed for bankruptcy protection in late August after investors pushed for a sale, in part prompted by de minimis exemptions ending. Now that it’s gone, it’s clear which industries and businesses depended on duty-free shipments to operate in the first place.
But back to my planner. Not wanting to risk a surprise tariff bill, I decided to try and buy a Hobonichi in-person from a local stationary store specializing in Japanese products. But just a few days before they were scheduled to go on sale, the brick-and-mortar shop announced they would be canceling the in-person event: the inbound shipment of planners was stuck in customs, the store said, and they would be switching to a preorder system. It’s a small inconvenience, the definition of first world problems that, until this point, US shoppers are largely not accustomed to. But all of that is changing — and it’s hard to shake the feeling that this is the beginning of the end for many industries and modes of consumption that Americans took for granted. Many American shoppers are finding that they don’t have access to limitless, instant e-commerce, possibly for the first time in their lives. And at this rate, it won’t be the last time, either.
