The Only Thing You Can’t Subscribe to Now Is Stability

I’m a person with a toilet-paper subscription. I bought it through my Amazon Prime subscription: Every few months, an embarrassing box of toilet paper arrives at my apartment, at which point I’m charged about $30, which includes the 5 percent saving the retailer awarded me to secure my toilet-paper business in perpetuity.

The same thing happens when the pet-supply company sends me two bags of dog food every six weeks, or when Adobe lets me use Photoshop for another month. Instead of CDs and DVDs, Netflix and Apple Music grant me access to movies and music on a rolling basis. A cosmetics retailer sends me beauty-product samples every month. I never use them, but still pay $10 each time.

For most of American consumer history, subscriptions were the province of magazines, cable, and other media: You paid an annual fee, and news and entertainment organizations gave you their new work as it became available. But as digital-payment technology has improved and people look for ways to navigate stress, , and online shopping’s near-infinite purchase