GAINESVILLE, Fla. --- Here’s a daunting task: In a post-Sept. 11, Enron-stunned world, defend luxury.
In a book due out this month, a University of Florida English professor and popular culture expert does just that. Once reserved for those of wealth and means, luxury – and the pursuit of it – has succeeded where ideologies have failed, erasing national boundaries and knocking down cultural barriers worldwide, says James Twitchell, author of “Living it Up: Our Love Affair With Luxury” (Columbia University Press).
“We understand each other not by sharing religion, politics or ideas. We share branded things. We speak the Esperanto of advertising, luxe populi,” Twitchell writes.
This isn’t your father’s luxury, though. Sure, there’s still plenty of room for Cadillacs, diamonds and furs, but what separates the new luxury from the old, Twitchell says, is the variety of things that can now be had in upscale form. Twenty years ago, for instance, would anyone have imagined Volvo -- once the domain of the “sensible” crowd – trying to pass itself off as a luxury car?
No one would be so foolish as to contend that luxury is a new concept. On the contrary, Twitchell argues, luxury is as old as humanity itself and is firmly ingrained in our collective psyche.
What changes is the definition of luxury as it works its way down the food chain. Consider the fork, he says, which centuries ago was considered a frivolity. Twitchell cites more recent examples such as the telephone and washing machine.
But the speed at which things bright and shiny have become the property of the hoi polloi has increased dramatically, he says, and several forces have made luxury an every-man commodity.
For one thing, society is enjoying an unprecedented amount of disposable income, particularly among young people. In the absence of disposable income, credit cards have filled the void. But even in countries where money is in short supply, luxury is anything but.
“One of the most startling aspects of seeing the refugees streaming in from Kosovo was the number of adolescents dressed in Adidas, Nike and Tommy Hilfiger clothing,” he writes.
Another force, perhaps more important, is the downscaling of luxury. Always primed and ready for the next trend, retailers have sensed the new market, made the fancy stuff available for Joe Six-Pack and attached the notion of luxury to things that never used to be in that league.
“Words like gourmet, premium, boutique, chic, accessory, classic and gated community have jumped loose from their elite moorings and now describe such top-of-category items as popcorn, hamburgers, discount brokers, shampoo, scarves, ice cream and trailer parks,” Twitchell writes.
Furthermore, he says, if you can’t afford to own luxury, now more than ever it’s possible to at least have a taste of it. “You can’t own a Lexus, but you can rent one for a week,” he says. “You can’t own a yacht, but you can take a cruise.” But if everyone has luxury, then doesn’t it cease to be luxury? Not a problem, Twitchell says.
In fact, that’s the beauty of it.
“The democratization of luxury has been the single most important marketing phenomenon of modern times. And it has important political implications,” Twitchell writes.
The global village that so many have come to celebrate and fear in recent years may well arrive not under the flag of the United Nations, Twitchell says, but rather in the form of One Nation Under Luxury.
He admits the pursuit of luxury may indeed be making us as shallow and vapid as critics claim. But if owning the right pair of athletic shoes truly makes us feel good – and many would insist it does – then how bad can it be, especially compared to the misery and unhappiness more established institutions have brought about?
“Now most of the world is lining up, pushing and shoving, eager to elbow into the mall and buy what no one needs,” he writes. “Woe to the government or religion that says no. They don’t seem to last too long.”