[Discussion] Needing the Unnecessary The democratization of luxury

[Paksoy, Hb]

	August 2002  Needing the Unnecessary The democratization of luxury

By James B. Twitchell <mailto:jtwitche@english.ufl.edu> =20

 If you want to understand material culture at the
beginning of the 21st century, you must understand the overwhelming
importance of unnecessary material. If you are looking for the one
unambiguous result of modern capitalism, of the industrial revolution, =
and
of marketing, here it is. In the way we live now, you are not what you =
make.
You are what you consume. And most of what you consume is totally
unnecessary yet remarkably well made. The most interesting of those
superfluous objects belong in a socially constructed and ever-shifting =
class
called luxury. Consuming those objects, objects as rich in meaning as =
they
are low in utility, causes lots of happiness and distress. As well they
should. For one can make the argument that until all necessities are =
had by
all members of a community, no one should have luxury. More complex =
still is
that, since the 1980s, the bulk consumers of luxury have not been the
wealthy but the middle class, your next-door neighbors and their kids. =
And
this is happening not just in the West but in many parts of the world. =
When
I was growing up in the middle class of the 1950s, luxury objects were
lightly tainted with shame. You had to be a little cautious if you =
drove a
Cadillac, wore a Rolex, or lived in a house with more than two columns =
out
front. The rich could drip with diamonds, but you should stay dry. =
Movie
stars could drive convertibles; you should keep your top up. If you've =
got
it, don't flaunt it. Remember, the people surrounding you had lived =
through
the Depression, a time that forever lit the bright lines between
have-to-have, don't-need-to-have, and have-in-order-to-show-off. The =
best
definition of this old-style off-limits luxury came to me from my dad. =
I was
just a kid, and it was my first trip to a cafeteria: Morrison's =
Cafeteria in
Pompano Beach, Florida, February 1955. When I got to the desserts, I =
removed
the main course from my tray and loaded up on cake and JELL-O. My dad =
told
me to put all the desserts back but one. I said that wasn't fair. To me =
the
whole idea of cafeteria was to have as much as you want of what you =
want. My
dad said no, that was not the idea of cafeteria. The idea of cafeteria =
is
that you can have just one of many choices. Luxurification Look around
American culture, and you will see how wrong he was. Almost every set =
of
consumables has a dessert at the top. And you can have as much of it as =
you
can get on your tray or as much of it as your credit card will allow. =
This
is true not just for expensive products like town cars and McMansions =
but
for everyday objects. In bottled water, for instance, there is Evian,
advertised as if it were a liquor. In coffee, there's Starbucks; in ice
cream, H=E4agen-Dazs; in sneakers, Nike; in whiskey, Johnnie Walker =
Blue; in
credit cards, American Express Centurian; in wine, Chateau Margaux; in
cigars, Arturo Fuente Hemingway; and, well, you know the rest.  Name =
the
category, no matter how mundane, and you'll find a premium or, better =
yet, a
super-premium brand at the top. And having more than you can =
conceivably use
of such objects is not met with opprobrium but with genial acceptance. =
This
pattern persists regardless of class: The average number of branded =
sneakers
for adolescent males? It's 4.8 pairs. And regardless of culture:  A =
favorite
consumer product in China? Chanel lipstick dispensers sans lipstick.  =
Basil
Englis and Michael Solomon, professors of marketing in the School of
Business at Rutgers University, have studied the effects of brand
consumption, particularly how college students cluster around top-brand
knowledge. They drew guinea pigs from undergraduate business majors at =
their
institution and presented them with 40 cards, each containing a =
description
of a different cluster of consumers. The professors sifted the clusters =
to
make four groups -- lifestyles, if you will -- representative of
undergraduate society. They were Young Suburbia, Money & Brains, =
Smalltown
Downtown, and Middle America. Then Englis and Solomon gathered images =
of
objects from four product categories (automobiles, =
magazines/newspapers,
toiletries, and alcoholic beverages) that fit into each group. The =
students
were asked to put the various images together into coherent groups; =
they
were also to state their current proximity to, or desire to be part of, =
each
group in the future. As might be expected, the Money & Brains cluster =
was
the most popular aspirational niche. What Englis and Solomon did not =
expect
was how specific and knowledgeable the students were about the =
possessions
that they did not have but knew that members of that cluster needed.  =
When
asked what brand of automobile they would drive, here's what they said: =
BMWs
(53.6 percent), Mercedes (50.7), Cadillacs (30.4), Volvos (23.2), =
Porsches
(21.7), Acuras (17.4), and Jaguars (15.9). They knew what they wanted =
to
read: travel magazines (21.7 percent), Vogue (21.7), BusinessWeek =
(20.3),
Fortune (17.9), and GQ (15.9). Again, this is not what they did read =
but
what they took to be the reading material of the de-sired group. What =
they
were actually reading (or so they said) were Forbes, Barron's, The New
Yorker, and Gourmet. No mention of Rolling Stone, Playboy, Spin, or =
Maxim
for this group. They certainly knew what to drink: Heineken beer (33.3
percent), expensive wines (26.1), scotch (18.8), champagne (17.4), and
Beck's beer (15). They also knew what to sprinkle on their bodies: Polo
(27.5 percent), Obsession (15.9), and Drakkar (15.9). What the =
professors
found was not just that birds of a feather had started to flock =
together,
but that these young birds already knew what flock to shy away from. =
They
were not ashamed of smoking, for instance, but of smoking the wrong =
brand.
Their prime avoidance group corresponded to the Smalltown Downtown =
cluster.
The Money & Brainers knew a lot about the Smalltowners. They knew about
favored pickup trucks, Chevys (23.2 percent) and Fords (18.8). They =
knew
that this group reads People (30.4), Sports Illustrated (26.1), TV =
Guide
(24.6), Wrestling (21.7), fishing magazines (20.3), and The National
Enquirer (18.8). They assumed that Smalltowners preferred Budweiser =
(59.4),
followed by Miller (24.6) and Coors (18.8). Essentially, the Money &
Brainers had learned not just what to buy but what to avoid (or at =
least
what to say to avoid).  Such shared knowledge is the basis of culture. =
This
insight was, after all, the rationale behind a liberal arts education. =
John
Henry Newman and Matthew Arnold argued for state-supported education in =
the
19th century precisely because cultural literacy meant social cohesion. =
No
one argued that it was important to know algebraic functions or Latin
etymologies or what constitutes a sonnet because such knowledge allows =
us to
solve important social problems. We learn such matters because it is =
the
basis of how to speak to each other, how we develop a bond of shared =
history
and commonality. This is the secular religion of the liberal arts and
sciences, what French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu calls cultural =
capital. In
our postmodern world we have, it seems, exchanged knowledge of history =
and
science (a knowledge of production) for knowledge of products and how =
such
products interlock to form coherent social patterns (a knowledge of
consumption). Buy this and don't buy that has replaced make/learn this,
don't make/learn that. After all, in the way we live now, everyone is a
consumer, but not everyone is a worker. As Marcel Duchamp, sly observer =
of
the changing scene, said, "Living is more a question of what one spends =
than
what one makes." Thus a new denomination of cultural capital. A shift =
in
currency has clear ramifications. A producer culture focuses on the
independent self of the worker: self-help, self-discipline, =
self-respect,
self-control, self-reliance, self-interest. Responsibility is situated =
in
the individual: Can she get work? A consumer culture, however, focuses =
on
community: Fit in, don't stand out. Be cool. The standard of judgment
becomes the ability to interact effectively with others, to win their
affection and admiration -- to merge with others of the same lifestyle. =
Can
he consume the right brands? Inventing Pashmina The powerful desire to
associate with recognized objects of little intrinsic but high =
positional
value is at the heart of Luxe Americana. It is what Martha Stewart is =
doing
down at Kmart introducing her Silver Label goods. Of her many endorsed
products, one is of special interest: her line of matelass=E9 coverlets =
and
shams -- really, just bedcovers. They are available in yellow, white, =
and
multicolored stripes and come in silk, linen, crushed velvet, Egyptian
cotton, cotton sateens, and even cashmere. Remember three things: This =
is
Kmart, a bedspread is something you buy not to show off to others but =
to
please yourself, and cashmere is supposed to be something really =
special. So
here is the Cashmere Company hawking something it calls pashmina. The =
word
is a linguistic trick. Cashmere is goat hair from Kashmir, an area =
between
India and Pakistan, whereas pashmina is simply the Persian word for the =
same
goat in the same area. In other words, it's the same stuff. But that's =
not
what is interesting. It is that pashmina has been introduced precisely
because places like Kmart have too much cashmere. So what we have is a
top-of-the-line product topped because too many people were in the =
checkout
line. But then again, what of Michael Graves-designed toasters for =
Target,
Ralph Lauren house paint, and Ernest Hemingway and Cole Porter brand
furniture at Ethan Allen Furniture stores? This tectonic shift in
consumption is why the designer Lynette Jennings, host of the Discovery
Channel's Lynette Jennings Design and HouseSmart, is peddling doorknobs =
at
Home Depot. If you want to see how varied the consumers of the new =
luxuries
are, just take a tour of your local Costco or Sam's Club parking lot.
Observe the shiny new imported sedans and SUVs alongside aging =
subcompacts.
Or spend an hour watching what is being sold on the Home Shopping =
Network, a
televised flea market for impulse buyers. The system now has 23,000 =
incoming
phone lines capable of handling up to 20,000 calls a minute. Home =
Shopping
no longer sells just cubic zirconium rings. Not when the real money is =
in
designer handbags. In the older culture, my dad's culture, the limited
production capacity of the economy sharply reduced aspirations to =
material
comfort. In the modern world, my culture, much greater material
satisfactions lie within the reach of even those of modest means. Thus =
a
producer culture becomes a consumer culture, a hoarding culture becomes =
a
surplus culture, a work culture becomes a therapeutic culture. Because =
what
you buy becomes more important than what you make, luxury is not a =
goal; for
many it is a necessity. Luxury Creep Michael J. Apter, a psychologist =
at
Northwestern University, has studied why we do things and, by =
extension, why
we buy things. In The Experience of Motivation: The Theory of =
Psychological
Reversals, he divides general orientations into telic (arousal =
reducing) and
paratelic (arousal seeking). A telic motivation starts with isolating a =
need
and then feeling anxious about resolving it. The experience ends, if
successful, with a feeling of relaxation. If the ending does not =
satisfy the
need (postdecision dissonance), the anxiety continues, and the process =
is
repeated until it abates. A paratelic tendency, however, begins in a =
state
of well-being that edges over into boredom. The person seeks excitement =
and
judges the act by the experience. Does it resolve boredom? Not to put =
too
fine a point on it, but consuming luxury for many Americans has gone =
from
telic to paratelic, from product to process, from problem resolution to
emotion seeking, from object to experience. The one characteristic of =
modern
luxe is its profound oxymoronic nature: If everyone can have it, is it =
still
luxury? If you want to see the difference that a generation makes in
downshifting luxury, just look at how top-of-the-line domestic =
automobiles
are advertised. Compare Cadillac in the early part of the 20th century =
with
Lincoln at the end of the century, and you'll get the idea. Cadillac's =
pitch
in a 1915 advertisement was that luxury comes at a price and that price
includes humility, even mild mortification. You buy this car and you =
take
responsibility for sharing excellence. The true price of luxury is not
cheap. In fact, you will be reviled, assailed, and envied. This car is =
a
laurel. Be careful how you wear it. The real headline is not just "The
Penalty of Leadership," it is "The Penalty of Luxury." By contrast,
Lincoln's current pitch is pure indulgence: Buy this object and let =
your
lust for comfort run wild. Lincoln is "what a luxury object should be." =
And
after all you've been through, you deserve it. If not to own, then to =
lease.
Needless to say, as the 20th century faded into oblivion, Cadillac, =
which
had a history of "owning" the luxury category, lost its vaunted place =
as the
best-selling domestic luxury car to Lincoln. The Lincoln division of =
the
Ford Motor Car Company has a single-word advertising motto: "Luxury."
Perhaps the best example of what I call luxury creep, in which a =
down-market
product comes uptown solely on the basis of advertising, is the Buick
Century. Buick has had a history of being a car for strivers who have =
not
quite made it. Just look back on Buick advertising in the '60s, and you =
can
see the company's typical reticence. In 1965 Buick advertising carried =
the
tag line, "Wouldn't you really rather have a Buick?," which survived =
through
the 1980s. In 1980 the company added a second theme: "The great =
American
road belongs to Buick." Then in 1986 the McCann-Erickson ad agency
positioned Buicks as "premium American motorcars." Now Buick does have =
a
luxury car, the Park Avenue. But the Century is an underling, now =
positioned
as "a luxury car for everyone." Never mind that the tag line is an =
oxymoron.
The problem is more fundamental. This car is just a standard Buick, =
which is
just a jazzed-up Chevy, which is just a dumbed-down Cadillac, which is =
just
an Oldsmobile, which is just like tons of Fords and Chryslers, as well =
as
most Japanese midrange cars. The only luxury about it is the pretension =
of
saying this is luxurious. Punk Luxe? In the last few years I have spent
hours flipping through a new genre of magazine -- The Robb Report,
Millionaire, Indulgence, Flaunt, Luxe, Icon, Self: The Best of =
Everything,
Ornament: The Art of Personal Adornment -- as well as standard glossy =
pulp
from Cond=E9 Nast like GQ, Vogue, Vanity Fair, and, most recently, =
Lucky. I
have trolled Rodeo Drive, Worth Avenue, and upper Madison Avenue and
traveled to Las Vegas, where I stood agog for hours in the Bellagio and
Venetian hotels. I admit from the start that you could argue that this =
is
not real luxury but a kind of ersatz variety, punk luxe, and maybe you =
would
be correct. My father would have argued that real luxury is =
characterized
not by shine but by patina, that its allure comes from inborn =
aesthetics,
not from glitzy advertising, that it is passed from generation to =
generation
and cannot be bought at the mall, and, most of all, that its =
consumption is
private, not conspicuous. His words for modern luxury would have =
included
gauche, vulgar, nouveau, tasteless, and, most interestingly, offensive. =
In
fact, maybe the rich have only two genuine luxury items left: time and
philanthropy. The rest of us are having a go at all their stuff, albeit =
for
a knockoff to be held only a short time. I can't afford a casita on =
Bermuda,
but my timeshare can get it for me at least for a week. I can't own a =
limo,
but I can rent one. If I can't fly on the Concorde, I can upgrade to =
first
class with the miles I "earn" by using my American Express card. I can =
lease
a Lexus. In a sense luxury objects don't exist anymore as they used to
be-cause "real" luxury used to be for the "happy few," and in the world =
of
the jubilant Dow there is no more "happy few." The world that we live =
in, as
John Seabrook recently argued in Nobrow: The Marketing of Culture and =
the
Culture of Marketing, and as David Brooks explored in Bobos in =
Paradise: The
New Upper Class and How They Got There, no longer easily fits into
intellectual classes. It now fits into consumption communities. So, for
instance, we don't talk about high class, upper middle class, and =
middle
class. Instead we talk about boomers, yuppies, Generation X, =
echo-boomers,
nobrows, bobos (short for bourgeois bohemians), and the rest, who show =
what
they are buying for themselves, not what they do for a living. And =
that's
why each of these groups has its own luxury markers -- positional =
goods, in
marketing jargon -- to be bought, not made. High Brow to Nobrow In a =
way,
the new luxury is the ineluctable result of a market economy and a
democratic political system. As journalist Thomas Beer wrote, "Money =
does
not rule democracy. Money is democracy." Back in the late 1940s Russell
Lynes, editor of Harper's, concocted a taxonomy of taste: high-brow, =
upper
middle-brow, lower middle-brow, and low-brow. His system, as gleefully
celebrated in the April 11, 1949, issue of Life magazine, was =
scandalous
when published, the topic of much cocktail party concern.  Lynes knew =
even
then that Americans were no longer divided by "wealth, birth, or =
political
eminence" but by consumption. These material distinctions were further
explored in the 1980s in Paul Fussell's Class: A Guide Through the =
American
Status System. Tongue almost in cheek, Fussell even proposed a new =
class,
what he called "category X people," to be based not on material =
consumption
but on a shared taste for the better life. Fussell got the phenomenon =
of the
"massification" of the upper class correct, and he certainly understood =
how
the democratizing of luxury was a mixed blessing, but he missed the
materiality of this confluence. Instead of superfluous stuff being =
pushed
aside, it became even more central. You had to buy your way out, one =
Volvo,
one glass of merlot, one bow tie, one Sub-Zero refrigerator, one =
granite
countertop at a time. From time to time in Western history there is
vociferous antipathy toward high-end consumption. From Plato to the =
early
Christians to the Renaissance, luxury was thought to effeminize and =
weaken.
But this was hardly a pressing problem, because just getting to the
necessities of life was a full-time job for most. With increasing =
affluence
this view shifted. Luxury became dangerous not because of de-basement =
but
because it was a sign of overreaching, of getting out of place. An
interesting transformation shows how fluid this category can be. In the
Renaissance, luxury objects became those things thought worthy of being
painted. Such objects were called objets d'art. Now, of course, the =
luxury
object is the painting itself. But you can see that even before the
industrial revolution there was a growing desire to show stuff off, to =
use
the material world as marker of social dominance, to strut, to flaunt. =
By
the 18th century, social critics like Bernard Mandeville and economists =
like
Adam Smith were beginning to suggest that, for improving the weal of
humanity, the promise of consuming luxury might be a better carrot than =
the
stick of shame. Yet there was still deep resentment for consuming out =
of
your class, beyond your means.  This suspicion about consuming beyond =
your
class continued well into the 19th century. In fact, ancient sumptuary =
laws,
explaining exactly what objects were forbidden by church and state, =
were
read from the Anglican pulpit until the 1860s. Reading these laws took =
two
hours of church time to complete, and the laws kept people in their =
places,
if only to have to listen to them. Clerics, clearly supported by the
aristocracy, were not alone in stiff-arming luxury. With the onset of
industrial surpluses, secular pundits like Henry David Thoreau railed
against what they took to be the excesses of mass production. "Most of =
the
luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts, of life are not only not
indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind," he
pointed out in Walden. By the fin de si=E8cle this view of high-end
consumption had so exploded that Thorstein Veblen unloosed the first =
modern
sustained attack on luxury in his thoroughly entertaining Theory of the
Leisure Class (1899). Coining all manner of nifty concepts like =
conspicuous
consumption, invidious comparison, bandwagon effect, symbolic =
pantomime,
vicarious leisure, and parodic display, Veblen had at the excesses of
robber-baron shopping. The Leisure Classic In fact, one might say that
Veblen enjoyed it rather too much and succeeded only too well. When he
formulated his theory of the leisure class at the turn of the century,
ostentation in dress was at its full plumage, not least because new =
money
was desperate to prove that it had made it to high society. Veblen's
argument was so simple that it cut like Occam's razor. It has proved so
powerful that it has achieved the status of unquestioned truism. Here =
is
Veblen's argument: As wealth spreads, what drives consumers' behavior =
is
increasingly neither subsistence nor comfort but the attainment of "the
esteem and envy of fellow men." Because male wage earners are too
circumspect to indulge themselves, they deposit consumption on =
surrogates,
on loved ones. Vicarious ostentation -- the way that plainly dressed
Victorian men encouraged their wives and daughters to wear complicated
trappings of wealth -- is how this unfolds. Ditto their servants, =
horses,
and even house pets. In retrospect, Veblen was too successful, too =
neat, too
sharp. Veblen thought that the purpose of acquisition was public =
consumption
of esteem, status anxiety resolved by material display. Not much more.
Wealth, he argued, confers honor; it suggests prowess and achievement. =
But
wealth would have no social meaning were it simply consumed or =
possessed.
"In order to gain and to hold the esteem of men," he wrote, "it is not
sufficient merely to possess wealth or power. The wealth or power must =
be
put in evidence, for esteem is awarded only on evidence." Thus the =
absolute
centrality of conspicuous consumption. In what Veblen called "barbarian
culture," trophies such as property or slaves were signs of successful
aggression. In modern societies luxury is a sign of status and class. =
It's
what we have for harems. But only certain sorts of goods work this =
magic.
There is no rational system. The only constant is that consumers seek =
the
luxurious object for two reasons: to show that they are members of the
classes above and to distinguish themselves from those below. Veblen =
calls
the first motive "pecuniary emulation"; the second, "invidious =
comparison."
>From this comes the economic irrationality of the Veblen effect, =
namely,
that the value of a luxury object is in direct proportion to its cost. =
Raise
the price of certain luxe objects and you increase their value. The =
Veblen
effect is why a T-shirt sold at Sears costs less than the same T-shirt =
at
the Gap, which costs less than the same T-shirt at Hugo Boss, and so =
forth.
Could you sell Evian water if it were priced below a generic? What =
about Ben
& Jerry's ice cream? The Robb Report? A Lexus? An Ivy League education? =
It
is not enough for me to know what I paid for opuluxe. You have to know.
Today these products, which are no more (and maybe less) useful than =
their
functional equivalents, are sometimes called "positional goods," goods =
that
are valued not despite their expense but because of it. Indeed, Veblen
argued that since the reasons for buying such goods are "pecuniary
emulation" and "invidious comparison," their utility rises as their =
prices
go up. With insights like this, Veblen proved himself to be too strong =
a
critic to dismiss. You don't need to have read a word he wrote to know =
him.
He set the tone of modern criticism. Economic Moralism  The second =
modern
attack on luxury came in the 1950s with John Kenneth Galbraith's The
Affluent Society and, to a lesser degree, the popularizing work of =
Vance
Packard in The Hidden Persuaders, The Status Seekers, and The Pyramid
Climbers. Veblenism is all over these books. Galbraith had read Veblen, =
if
not wisely, then too well. In fact, he had edited Theory of the Leisure
Class with all kinds of approving nods and winks. Packard and his =
snappy
titles went along for the ride. To these critics high-end consumption =
is
against our "better nature"; we are duped into consuming by =
advertisers;
consumers are dolts who should be doing other things; luxury is =
consumption
run amok. The usual suspects for Galbraith had changed from the =
captains of
industry to the Joneses across the street. Keeping up with them was =
every
bit as dangerous as it had been for a Carnegie to keep up with a =
Vanderbilt,
a Morgan with a Gould. Perhaps even more dangerous because these =
Joneses now
are so numerous. And, as opposed to the robber barons who were =
outfitting
family members, this new solipsistic breed of showoff was outfitting
himself. Veblen's descendants are still at it. Following in the =
footsteps of
Galbraith have been two moralists passing as economists: Juliet Schor, =
a
professor now at Boston College, who has published The Overspent =
American:
Why We Want What We Don't Need, and Robert Frank, a professor at =
Cornell,
who contributed Luxury Fever: Why Money Fails to Satisfy in an Era of
Excess. Just read the subtitles. The modern attack usually centers =
around a
specific object as an exemplum. While Galbraith disliked Cadillac tail =
fins,
Schor disdains granite countertops in the kitchen, and Frank holds up
expensive watches as symptomatic of bad habits. On the surface they =
have
such good points: How do those fins help the car move, are those stone
countertops better than Formica, does a Lucian Picard keep better time =
than
a Timex? But here's the problem. The 1958 Cadillac has been featured in =
the
Museum of Modern Art's retrospective show celebrating industrial design =
as
art, and if you now want to buy one in mint condition, you'll pay about =
20
times the purchase price. The granite countertop really makes more =
sense as
a cutting surface than as a slab to lay down over the dead body of =
Uncle
Louie, and -- who knows? -- it might even be passed from generation to
generation, while the sensible Formica is carted out to the dump. And =
had
Frank invested in Lucian Picard watches at the beginning of the bull =
market,
he would have made more on his watch investment than on the S&P 500. =
Drats!
That this stuff could have increased in value tells us how slippery =
these
slopes can be. No matter. Critics of consumption love to point out that
people with these things are no happier than people without them. Ergo, =
why
buy extra stuff? But people who can't buy unnecessary opuluxe are =
definitely
unhappier for not being let into the cycle; buying this notational =
stuff and
having such stuff are different experiences; consumers move in definite
stages, from adolescence, where consumption is central, to middle age, =
where
it ceases to be so important, to old age, where having things is =
positively
a hindrance. Religious fanatics invariably rank highest on happiness =
scales,
irrespective of culture or religion. Let's give happiness a rest.
Consumption of the new luxury is about far more interesting sensations.
Whereas Veblen contended that male aggression caused the crazed =
consumption
of deluxe items at the end of his century, these modern critics are =
more au
courant in putting forth their etiology. They medicalize consumption, =
in
large part because the bulk consumers of luxe are now young women. The
diagnosis, although they would never use this precise term, is =
addiction. We
are addicted to luxury. That's what causes the fever. That's why we =
yearn
for what we don't want. Diagnosis from the National Public Radio crowd: =
not
just Sudden Wealth Syndrome but the dreaded "affluenza." Over the Top I =
must
say that I found most of the luxury objects that I've looked at, from =
Patek
Philippe watches to Porsche Turbos to the men's room of the Bellagio =
Hotel,
to be a little over the top. But I am not so oblivious to the world =
around
me that I can't appreciate how important the new luxury has become. And =
I
can't overlook how high-end consumption promises to do exactly what =
critics
of the stuff have always yearned for, namely, to bring us together, =
often
traumatically. Yes, indeed, the transgenerational poor are excluded, as =
the
bottom fifth of our population has not budged an inch in the luxe =
explosion.
Yet more people than ever are entering the much-vaunted global village
because of consumption, not despite it. In fact, one could argue, as =
Dinesh
D'Souza, Virginia Postrel, and W. Michael Cox and Richard Alm have =
recently
done, that the aspiration of the poor to get at these unnecessary goods =
has
done more than any social program to motivate some of the disenchanted =
to
become enfranchised. While one may be distressed at seeing a dish =
antenna
atop a ramshackle house or a Caddie out front, the yearning to have
superfluous badges of affluence may promise a more lasting peace around =
the
world than any religion or political system has ever delivered. I don't =
mean
to overlook the complexities here. This is not a universal phenomenon, =
as
the al Qaeda have wickedly demonstrated. Some of the world's poor are =
most
certainly not becoming better off in absolute or relative terms. I only =
want
to say that, given a choice between being mugged for your sneakers or =
having
your ethnic or religious heritage cleansed, the lust for sneakers may =
prove
a more lasting way to improve the general lot of humanity. Let's face =
it. In
the world that I grew up in, your religion, your family name, the color =
of
your skin, your language skills, your gender, where you went to school, =
your
accent, and your marriage partner were doing the work that luxury
consumption does now. My dad went to Exeter, Williams, and Harvard Med, =
and
he never drove anything fancier than a Plymouth. He never had to. Today =
I
wouldn't go to a doctor who drove a Plymouth. I would figure that if =
she
doesn't drive a Lexus, she is having trouble with her practice. So I =
admit
the ugly truth. After spending the last few years trying to understand =
the
pull of the material world, I am far more sympathetic to its =
blandishments
and far more forgiving of its excesses. The democratization of luxury =
has
been the single most important marketing phenomenon of modern times. =
And it
has profound political implications. It may not be as bad as some =
lifestyle
scolds make it out to be. In its own way it is a fair, albeit often
wasteful, system, not just of objects but of meaning. Don't get me =
wrong:
It's not that I came to mock and stayed to pray, but I do feel that =
getting
and spending has some actual worth. Nobody checks the number of vowels =
in
your name, or the color of your skin, or whether you know the =
difference
between like and as when you are buying your Prada parka -- that's got =
to
mean something. Although luxury has become a mallet with which one =
pounds
the taste of others, this misses some essential points. One is that =
humans
are consumers by nature. We are tool users because we like to use what =
tool
using can produce. In other words, tools are not the ends but the =
means. So
too materialism does not crowd out spiritualism; spiritualism is more =
likely
a substitute when objects are scarce. When we have few things, we make =
the
next world luxurious. When we have plenty, we enchant the objects =
around us.
Second, consumers are rational. They are often fully aware that they =
are
more interested in consuming aura than objects, sizzle than steak, =
meaning
than material. In fact, if you ask them -- as academic critics are =
usually
loath to do -- they are quite candid in explaining that the Nike =
swoosh, the
Polo pony, the Guess? label, the DKNY logo are what they are after. =
They are
not duped by advertising, packaging, branding, fashion, and =
merchandising.
They actively seek and enjoy the status that surrounds the object,
especially when they are young. Third, we need to question the standard
argument that consumption of opuluxe almost always leads to =
disappointment.
Admittedly, the circular route from desire to purchase to =
disappointment to
renewed de-sire is never-ending, but we may follow it because the other
route -- from melancholy to angst -- is worse. In other words, in a =
world
emptied of inherited values, consuming what looks to be overpriced
fripperies may be preferable to consuming nothing. Finally, we need to
rethink the separation between production and consumption, for they are =
more
alike than separate and occur not at different times and places but
simultaneously. Instead of wanting less luxury, we might find that just =
the
opposite -- the paradoxical luxury for all -- is a suitable goal of =
communal
aspiration. After all, luxury before all else is a social construction, =
and
understanding its social ramifications may pave the way for a new
appreciation of what has become a characteristic contradiction of our =
time,
the necessary consumption of the unnecessary.  James B. Twitchell is a
professor of English and advertising at the University of Florida. This
article was adapted from Living It Up: Our Love Affair With Luxury
<http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ISBN=3D0231124961/ref=3Dnosim/reasonm=
agazineA
/> (Columbia University Press). =A9 2002 James Twitchell. Used by =
arrangement
with Columbia University Press. All rights reserved.