“Consumer wants can have bizarre, frivolous, or even immoral origins, and an admirable case can still be made for a society that seeks to satisfy them. But the case cannot stand if it is the process of satisfying wants that creates the wealth.”
- J. K. Gailbraith 1908-- : “The Affluent Society” (1958)
“In a consumer society there are two kinds of slaves: the prisoners of addiction and the prisoners of envy.”
- Ivan Illich 1926-- : “Tools For Conviviality” (1973)
“The metamorphosis of consumption from vice to virtue is one of the most important yet least examined phenomena of the twentieth century.”
- Jeremy Rifkin 1945-- : “The End of Work” (1995)
There’s a new trend in consumer culture. It’s called “Circle Shopping.” Before explaining exactly what this means, I might direct your attention to George Romero’s 1978 film “Dawn of the Dead.”
“Dawn of the Dead” shows the apocalyptic effects a zombie epidemic would have on society. In the film, a plague of unknown origin has caused the reanimation of the dead who prey on human flesh, which subsequently causes mass hysteria. Several survivors of the outbreak barricade themselves inside a suburban shopping mall.
One of the looming psychiatric crises of the approaching depression will be how to deal with the ensuing psychological withdrawal brought on by the unavailability of cash or credit to satisfy our consumer addictions. Like those zombies in Romero’s film who mindlessly lurch from store to store, catatonically responding to a primal cultural indoctrination urging them to buy something, anything, “Circle Shoppers” are slaves to a mode of experience that defines them.
What do I mean by this? As an example I offer this story about a visit I once made to my blessed sister’s house. While showing me around her gorgeously appointed domicile, she ushered me into a closet with hundreds of shoes, T-shirts, and other extraneous items of cheaply made wearing apparel.
“Brotherman,” she said,
“look at these bargains I’ve found over the years.”
She then held up eight pairs of tacky golden Aladdin Slippers purchased at the Dollar Store.
“Sisterwoman,” I says,
“why on earth do you need eight pairs of these Sheik Sandals (she’s got big feet), wouldn’t one or two pairs suffice?”
Her response?
“Since they were only a dollar a piece, I had to buy them all.”
“Have you ever worn them,” I says.
She says, “no, they’re too small, but they were such a bargain, I had to have them.”
Sis wasn’t interested in the purchase as much as the purchasing. Over the last fifty years we’ve been trained to ignore austerity and embrace prosperity. Our unabiding faith in capitalism made us forget that historical change can take a regressive as well as progressive course. Why shouldn’t we think of our assets (employment status and homes) as ATMs rather than securities. Wages would rise, home values would follow, and things would get better and better.
“Happy days are here again,
Skies above are clear again.”
How selective we were in ignoring the lessons of the Great Depression. It’s as if we got the first four words and ignored the last. After all, “again” contains the the unpleasant implication that there were once “unhappy” days, and even worse, they might come again. Also recall this song was recorded in 1929, before, not after, the economic debacle that would soon follow. Those who came of age before the sixties knew this (the credit card was invented in 1950). But that’s not us.
And so a kind of “want addiction” displaced the outdated idea that assessing the modest requirements of existence and prudently meeting these life needs might be a sensible budgetary strategy. It was suddenly in vogue to have what you don’t want rather than to want what you don’t have.
We became addicted to buying, and not the things we buy. And so my sis was most proud of the quantity and passion of her consumption rather than what she actually bought. It might just as well have been brushed aluminum Chia-Pets, bargain bin Bedazzlers, reduced priced Flowbees, or Ronco Cellulite Cream Reducer. It’s not the utility of what you buy, as much as the feeling that your purchasing bring about a consumptive and redemptive satisfaction. But what happens when the cozy economic context that enabled this behavior collapses?
But what do we mall zombies do when there’s no more cash, the house is in foreclosure, and the cards are maxed out? It’s simple, we “Circle Shop.” All that’s required is a fixed stipend of cash that can be recycled endlessly. One caveat, avoid becoming desperate to the point of liquidating the the cash that suspends spending withdrawal symptoms.
“Circle shopping” is simply this: One goes to the mall, fixes upon the item they obsessively crave, buys the fetishized object of their desire (add to cart), goes home and agonizes over the unaffordable debt they have just accrued, frantically returns the item, and then rejoices in the rush obtained at having their grub stake refunded so that they might shop again.
NOTE: Copyrighted in 1929 by Milton Ager (music) and Jack Yellen (lyrics). “Happy Days Are Here Again” was recorded by Leo Reisman and His Orchestra, with Lou Levin, vocal (November 1929), and was used in the 1930 film “Chasing Rainbows.”
- J. K. Gailbraith 1908-- : “The Affluent Society” (1958)
“In a consumer society there are two kinds of slaves: the prisoners of addiction and the prisoners of envy.”
- Ivan Illich 1926-- : “Tools For Conviviality” (1973)
“The metamorphosis of consumption from vice to virtue is one of the most important yet least examined phenomena of the twentieth century.”
- Jeremy Rifkin 1945-- : “The End of Work” (1995)
There’s a new trend in consumer culture. It’s called “Circle Shopping.” Before explaining exactly what this means, I might direct your attention to George Romero’s 1978 film “Dawn of the Dead.”
“Dawn of the Dead” shows the apocalyptic effects a zombie epidemic would have on society. In the film, a plague of unknown origin has caused the reanimation of the dead who prey on human flesh, which subsequently causes mass hysteria. Several survivors of the outbreak barricade themselves inside a suburban shopping mall.
One of the looming psychiatric crises of the approaching depression will be how to deal with the ensuing psychological withdrawal brought on by the unavailability of cash or credit to satisfy our consumer addictions. Like those zombies in Romero’s film who mindlessly lurch from store to store, catatonically responding to a primal cultural indoctrination urging them to buy something, anything, “Circle Shoppers” are slaves to a mode of experience that defines them.
What do I mean by this? As an example I offer this story about a visit I once made to my blessed sister’s house. While showing me around her gorgeously appointed domicile, she ushered me into a closet with hundreds of shoes, T-shirts, and other extraneous items of cheaply made wearing apparel.
“Brotherman,” she said,
“look at these bargains I’ve found over the years.”
She then held up eight pairs of tacky golden Aladdin Slippers purchased at the Dollar Store.
“Sisterwoman,” I says,
“why on earth do you need eight pairs of these Sheik Sandals (she’s got big feet), wouldn’t one or two pairs suffice?”
Her response?
“Since they were only a dollar a piece, I had to buy them all.”
“Have you ever worn them,” I says.
She says, “no, they’re too small, but they were such a bargain, I had to have them.”
Sis wasn’t interested in the purchase as much as the purchasing. Over the last fifty years we’ve been trained to ignore austerity and embrace prosperity. Our unabiding faith in capitalism made us forget that historical change can take a regressive as well as progressive course. Why shouldn’t we think of our assets (employment status and homes) as ATMs rather than securities. Wages would rise, home values would follow, and things would get better and better.
“Happy days are here again,
Skies above are clear again.”
How selective we were in ignoring the lessons of the Great Depression. It’s as if we got the first four words and ignored the last. After all, “again” contains the the unpleasant implication that there were once “unhappy” days, and even worse, they might come again. Also recall this song was recorded in 1929, before, not after, the economic debacle that would soon follow. Those who came of age before the sixties knew this (the credit card was invented in 1950). But that’s not us.
And so a kind of “want addiction” displaced the outdated idea that assessing the modest requirements of existence and prudently meeting these life needs might be a sensible budgetary strategy. It was suddenly in vogue to have what you don’t want rather than to want what you don’t have.
We became addicted to buying, and not the things we buy. And so my sis was most proud of the quantity and passion of her consumption rather than what she actually bought. It might just as well have been brushed aluminum Chia-Pets, bargain bin Bedazzlers, reduced priced Flowbees, or Ronco Cellulite Cream Reducer. It’s not the utility of what you buy, as much as the feeling that your purchasing bring about a consumptive and redemptive satisfaction. But what happens when the cozy economic context that enabled this behavior collapses?
But what do we mall zombies do when there’s no more cash, the house is in foreclosure, and the cards are maxed out? It’s simple, we “Circle Shop.” All that’s required is a fixed stipend of cash that can be recycled endlessly. One caveat, avoid becoming desperate to the point of liquidating the the cash that suspends spending withdrawal symptoms.
“Circle shopping” is simply this: One goes to the mall, fixes upon the item they obsessively crave, buys the fetishized object of their desire (add to cart), goes home and agonizes over the unaffordable debt they have just accrued, frantically returns the item, and then rejoices in the rush obtained at having their grub stake refunded so that they might shop again.
NOTE: Copyrighted in 1929 by Milton Ager (music) and Jack Yellen (lyrics). “Happy Days Are Here Again” was recorded by Leo Reisman and His Orchestra, with Lou Levin, vocal (November 1929), and was used in the 1930 film “Chasing Rainbows.”
1 comment:
Randy, it's Tim North. Love the blog. Hopefully see you soon.
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