The theory of FIRE, then, is a perfect response for these disillusioned times. It’s almost always couched in aspirational terms. Many of FIRE adherents trot out truthy statistics commonly found in viral Facebook posts, like the one about how, on average, a person supposedly spends something like 75% of the time they will ever spend with their children by the time those children are 12 years old. Wouldn’t anyone like to spend more time with their kids? (Actual studies have found that quality of time matters much more than quantity.)
The earliest leaders in the online FIRE space were people who’d achieved it—most famously Peter Adeney, better known as Mr. Money Mustache. Frequently profiled and interviewed, Adeney is the classic software-engineer-turned-frugal-guru who sorted his nest egg and left the workforce in 2005, when he was only 30. (At least, the traditional workforce: Now he makes money by telling other people how to save their money, and through partnerships with credit cards and mortgage companies.)
Adeney defines financial independence as a means to an end: a less consumerist, more eco-friendly life. This crunchy, hippie inclination is very much alive and well among those pursuing financial independence in more moderate spaces. FIRE folk share a love of the outdoors almost as often as they express concerns about being present enough for their kids. FatFIRE, however, makes conspicuous consumption part of the deal. And because it’s easiest to pull off for people who are single and in a high-paying field, the stereotypical FatFIRE devotee is a man who fills his empty Southern home with sports cars, video games, and other pricey toys.
That’s because achieving FatFIRE, on its baseline, means saving multiple millions of dollars. Most FIRE practitioners calculate their retirement spending the way normal retirees do, with a roughly 4% drawdown rate that allows for interest to accrue without significantly draining their principal sum. To reach the very modest annual figure of a $40,000 income, you’d need to start with $1 million. The price for FatFIRE means squirrelling away much, much more, especially for those who have kids or want to have kids, or a second home, or to travel in business class.
On forums and subreddits and other social networks, aspiring FIRE starters post their wins and losses, share grindset philosophies, swap strategies for riding out familiar beats like “the boring middle” of FIRE, when your plan is in place and all you have to do is keep your head down. From the safety of anonymity, numbers are swapped: Net worth, annual spend, equity. (For one r/fatFIRE guy in a since-deleted post, that’s $23 million, $350,000, and $2 million, respectively.) They share strategies for how to quit a salaried gig to get a start-up going—which seems to be the only way, beyond smart investing, to amass a fatFIRE nest egg in time to retire in middle age.
The contours of each post and conversation among the FatFIRE folk are a digital anthropologist’s dream, a bit like wellness culture but overwhelmingly masculine. Voices of reason abound; many noted that TardisCrown3, the guy who wasn’t sure if his marriage could survive a 60% savings and investment rate, had more of a relationship issue than a FIRE one. So does skepticism: Can anyone really trust what people are saying about their money on Reddit? But overall, the vibe is positive: part Quaker meeting, part support group. Everyone will get their slice of the pie, the FatFIRE dudes say, if they keep at it for a few years more.