Bourgeois. There is so much within California's vernacular that highlights how strangely consumerist this side of the coast is. I have no doubt that the east coast has its fair share of costly products and the burden of gentrification (take New York, for example), but I think California has this dependence on bourgeois culture and all we inherit with it.
Has this always been a product of Hollywood's effect on globalization in accordance with the rest of the world? I am familiar with a history of film that relies on the growth of the Roaring Twenties, where ideas of modernity fused with the culture of consumerism. Visual icons became closely interlinked with the world of the future, ideas pouring into fashion, into literature, into the intersection of film and theatre. I've seen a lot on modernity and consumer culture from modern girls/new women all over the world, and it's fascinating observing the various ways capitalism plays a role in this.
Nowadays it's inherent in the concept of retail therapy, which in hindsight is a product of insecurity. I am guilty of this, and I am an avid supporter of consumerism, seen especially in my treasure trove of washi. Still, I feel bad for spending money; still, I feel better feeling like a productive member of capitalist society. And as bad as this is as a paradox, it's intricate with the addition of common notions of misogyny in relation to spending habits, with many punished for participating in a culture that was specifically promoted for the transition into the public sphere. Dual punishment, dual rewards--that's all consumerism is now.
Lately everything is a habit of feeling bourgeois. Extravagance is key, luxury is a comfort. And in the perfect mimicry of the Roaring Twenties, the international effort of consumerism relies on poor bodies imitating rich pursuits. Retail therapy stems from the pleasure of gifting yourself and rewarding yourself. This extends to foods that are rich in color and vibrant in their benefits, hence the trends of veganism and healthier habits; these, of course, are more accessible to the rich, but that doesn't stop from many trying to fit in, leading to countless YouTube videos on cheap ways to make healthy decisions. Those videos rely on many foods of convenience and plenty of pre-planning, which creates a difficult transition for those who have busy lives and may not have enough spoons to spend. That's where momentary consumerism comes in--things like the Unicorn Frappe at Starbucks, part of a trend yearning for brightness, for cheeriness, and an easy way to imitate the comforts of wealth.
Trends rely on us wanting to feel part of a larger community. I am guilty of this, although we shouldn't have to feel guilty for wanting to feel financially secure enough to afford a bit of reckless spending. Although at the same time, some trends rely on corporate greed, resulting in this same unicorn frappe.
I can't tell you how many posts I've seen about people throwing away a whole frappe because the tart mango taste of the unicorn frappe didn't appeal to them. Honestly, I figured that pure spite would lead to most people drinking the rest of the frappe because they spent money on it and needed to justify the cost, but it seems to be that taste-related comfort sometimes overshadows the blatant pain of monetary spending.
My apartmentmates and I split a single frappe. It made more sense, all of us wanting to slip into the trend and feel part of a larger community for that one moment, but the commitment of cost wouldn't have allowed us to get away with a sample. It was a little easier on the soul knowing it was only a dollar or two once we split the price, and we all had the privilege of choice.
And sipping a sour drink, I felt like a freshly renewed member of the bourgeoisie. I've been feeling that a lot more often lately, but that could be because it's my last grand hurrah of a senior year, and I'm taking in all the costs at once.
It's nice to feel that way. Why would I lie? Consumerism is an emotionally-loaded privilege. It's the same alluring sensation I feel when I buy washi (especially if they're on clearance, in the case of these Easter-themed washi from Paper Source).
Although California seems to capitalize on sensationalized consumerism, these ideas are all across the United States, all across the world. And that's the interesting part--we keep pulling ourselves into this rhythm of constant spending, and there are so many tropes paralleling the misogyny rampant throughout the 1920s.
I do think it's important to acknowledge the pain of consumerism, as well as the harm of corporate pressure on rising consumer culture. But we have to acknowledge the intricacy of history regarding retail therapy and key notions of modernity. We are at the intersection of race, of class, of gender, as well as the influx of the fluidity of the public and private spheres, so on some level, we should thank consumerism for raising these points about the bourgeoisie and the oligarchies behind them.
We can be aware. We should be. But you shouldn't feel sorry for every single purchase you make--this is a world that encourages it, so whether you buy into it or not can be its own form of resistance. You choose where your money goes to, gentrification-inducing corporations or small-business owners.
You are a consumer. You hold that power.
Keep thinking.
Yours Sincerely,
Dianne
