Every time I walk into Starbucks, I feel an overwhelming rush of guilt. Before I place my order, my inner monologue questions whether I can have a matcha latte today or whether that $7 would be better put toward something else. If I spend $7 on a matcha latte, that’s $7 I could have saved toward a down payment on a home.

When my brain puts it that way, I place my order immediately. I don’t put up much of a fight between those two options because, honestly, when buying a house feels so unattainable, what difference does another $7 really make?

You may have heard what’s become a common narrative: Gen Z is irresponsible with money. Many argue that milestones such as homeownership or starting a family could be within reach if young people simply stopped spending on small discretionary purchases such as matcha lattes, takeout, or entertainment.

There are two questions that come to mind when I think about this argument: 

1) If young people are struggling to afford conventional milestones, such as owning a home or having children, why are they spending money on non-essential purchases? 

2) Would cutting out these non-essential purchases actually make a significant difference in achieving their aspirations?

These questions point to a broader concept that can help explain this behaviour: aspirations failure.

The concept of aspirations failure has been studied in economics and anthropology as a way to explain how economic disadvantage can shape people’s expectations for, and investments in, their futures. When the gap between what someone wants and what they believe they can realistically achieve becomes too large, sacrificing in the present to prepare for that future can begin to feel less worthwhile.

I think this concept is highly relevant to young people’s diminishing hope about the prospect of achieving things like owning a home or starting a family. When observable economic conditions suggest that even years of saving may not close the gap between these larger goals and what Gen Z can actually hope to afford, giving up on takeout tonight is a sacrifice that begins to feel futile. 

Layer on top the fact that Gen Z will shoulder escalating climate risks and costs, inheriting a world with more extreme weather, fires, floods, and droughts, along with the economic and social disruption they bring. When I talk to people in my generation, I hear these uncertainties amplify each other. Not only are we questioning whether we will be able to afford a home or family, but whether we will even have a stable planet on which to enjoy them — making the sacrifices required to reach those goals feel even more pointless.

Housing is a perfect example of how aspirations failure can shape spending behaviour. Rising home prices without comparable gains in earnings have pushed homeownership out of reach for many young people. In 2025, a 25–34-year-old would need to earn $322,571 a year to carry a mortgage covering 80% of an average-priced home at current interest rates — nearly five times median earnings for their age group.

While rising home prices have eroded affordability for younger generations, they have generated enormous wealth for homeowners who came before them. Homeowners have gained $1.5 trillion in wealth over the last half-century, most of it going to those over age 55. Housing policies that guard against price drops in order to protect this wealth push costs onto those trying to enter the market. No wonder many Gen Z and Millennials have given up on the prospect of ever owning a home — and instead must cope with skyrocketing rental prices. 

When Canada’s housing system prioritize protecting the housing wealth accumulated by existing owners while neglecting the importance of affordability for young people, their belief that saving will be enough is bound to erode.

We can see the consequences of this in the milestones young people are pursuing. In 2022, 32% of Canadians aged 15–29 said they had wanted to buy a home or move to a new rental but decided not to because of price concerns, compared with 20% of the overall population. The same pattern extends beyond homeownership. In 2022, 38% of Canadians aged 20–29 did not believe they could afford to have a child within the next three years.

The symptoms of this crisis also show up in how young people feel about their lives, their futures, and the systems they rely on to build them. Canada ranks 71st globally in life satisfaction among people under 25, according to the World Happiness Report. At its core, the decline in happiness has been attributed to increases in food and housing costs, as well as eroding trust in government over the last 15 years. This erosion of trust is not unfounded: polling suggests that 54% of those aged 18–29 believe previous generations are rigging the system for their benefit and making it harder for younger generations, while 58% believe politicians are more interested in promoting and protecting the interests of older generations than people their age.

In response to this cascade of effects, the solution we often offer young people is to cut out the money they spend on small, non-essential items. But does that solution actually match the scale of the issue? Of course, it does depend on the milestone being pursued and the purchases being made. However, the criticism young people receive is often directed toward purchases that would not bring them significantly closer to becoming homeowners or parents if cut out. 

This critique may have been more relevant in 2000, when cutting out four matcha lattes a day for five years could save enough for a 20% down payment on an average home in Canada — and likely some indigestion. But in 2026, you would need to save the equivalent of eleven matchas a day for five years to save for a 20% down payment.* At that point, you’re not just cutting back on your matcha; you’re cutting out enough matchas to keep a whole soccer team caffeinated. So, is skipping one matcha a day really getting you closer to owning a home? It doesn’t look so.

Having good money management skills is important, and so is learning to spend within your means. However, advising young people to simply live a frugal life in response to the prospect of a bleak future does not address the core problem of aspirations failure. Instead, it trivializes their experiences, doubling down on a generation already overwhelmed by how unaffordable Canada has become, how their hard work does not pay off in the same way it once did, and an overall sense of hopelessness about the future. 

When we treat individual spending choices as the problem, we place the onus on the people struggling to achieve these milestones rather than on the systems and policies that have pushed them increasingly out of reach.

I think we should offer Gen Z compassion for the reality they are facing. Hard work doesn’t pay off like it used to, Canada is increasingly unaffordable, and wages have not caught up. Of course we feel hopeless.

To all the other Gen Zs out there: it’s time we stand together. Collective action can influence government decision-making. Join the work of Generation Squeeze to help establish generational fairness as a lens for government budgets. Change is possible when we show up in numbers. The more people we have behind us, the more loudly we can amplify our collective voices in the world of politics and work toward a Canada where aspirations feel attainable again.

* Data from the forthcoming 2026 Straddling the Gap report.