The best way to express disapproval of items that are not good value for money is: don't buy them.
I have applied this rule over the past couple of years with 100 per cent success, and can say with complete veracity that not a solitary truffle, a teaspoon of caviar or an eyedropper of Dom Perignon has passed my lips.
Not that I'm suggesting there's anything wrong with truffles, caviar or Dom Perignon -- it's just that they don't represent good value in my current lifestyle.
Actually, they probably didn't in my previous lifestyle either, but in those days I worked harder and longer, earned more and had enough spare money not to care.
Back then, before the stock market crash in 1987, we seemed to have money to burn, and we burnt it.
An acquaintance of mine habitually drank Dom Perignon for Sunday breakfast, usually accompanied by a fillet of beef that he ground up in the mincer and made into hamburgers.
It brings to mind the famous Will Rogers quote: "Too many people spend money they haven't earned, to buy things they don't want, to impress people they don't like."
It's possible that quantities of other luxury food items are ingested for exactly those reasons.
Alba white truffles sell for anything up to $15,000 per kilo, although you can get the common old black ones for a mere $240.
Beluga caviar can be had for $10,000 a kilo, and if you like you can sprinkle it with edible gold leaf at $32 per 15mg.
Gold leaf is licensed as a food additive but even so, I probably won't be eating a lot of it between now and the arrival of my Gold Card.
I'm using a tip I found on a blog by someone calling him or herself a frugillionaire, and it's working.
It was this: Figure out your nett worth. Keep it top of mind and call on that figure whenever you are making financial decisions.
It works, at least for people like me whose nett worth is a number you can speak in a millisecond.
When I'm of a mind to buy something unnecessary, I quickly work out the percentage by which it will reduce my net worth, and I don't buy it.
However, before you go rushing off to the Frugillionaire website to find out how to manage in Reduced Circumstances, let me warn you that you will be told to make your own duvet covers by buying budget sheets and sewing them together.
Personally I'd rather sleep on the floor, and fortunately there are better ways.
You could consider selling your car.
If you can walk, bike or take public transport where you need to go, you will eliminate spending on petrol, registration, warrants of fitness, insurance, maintenance, repairs costs and traffic fines.
Assuming you can in fact afford to leave the house, you will get fitter and thinner by cycling or walking to wherever you need to go, and you will reduce your spend at the supermarket and the wine shop because you won't be able to carry so much stuff home. Perfect.
If you live in a city, you could join a car share programme, or start one in your own town.
Many New Zealanders have taken the tiny house movement a little bit to heart and are downsizing their mansions as they head into retirement.
This works in two ways. One, small houses are cheaper to run than big ones, and two, you'll have to stop buying unnecessary items (like duvet covers) because there's nowhere to put anything.
If you can't bear to downsize, get a flatmate.
It'll take you back to your misspent youth and make you feel younger while increasing your income.
You'll have someone to natter to in the evenings and won't have to spend money going to bars looking for company.
And if you're not going to bars, you'll save money on clothes.
When you do have to buy something, take advantage of the current trend to metallics -- silver and gold go with everything.
So - does this mean I should reduce my nett worth by $149 and buy the silver handbag I have been thinking about since Monday?
Or would that put me in the same category as Steve Martin, who said: "I love money. I love everything about it. I bought some pretty good stuff. Got me a $300 pair of socks. Got a fur sink. An electric dog polisher. A petrol-powered turtleneck sweater.
"And, of course, I bought some dumb stuff, too."