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A r t o f L i v i n g




 


 

 

 

 
 
I Can't Get No Satisfaction-
when luxuries become necessities

by Tracy Rohrer
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


My friend Jacqueline uses her closet door as an “I Want” List. She rips out fashion spreads from her favorite magazines, circles the items she will eventually buy, and tapes the pages to her door: Marc by Marc Jacobs Trench coat, $450; Anna Sui blouse, $158; J.Crew Espadrilles, $98.
Jacqueline lives in New York City; Brooklyn to be exact. She's a bartender by night, and a consumer by day. Can she afford to carry out her lavish wish list? Yes…and no. Technically, Jacqueline lives just above the poverty level. But with a monthly rent of $725 as her only major expense, she has justified her four yearly Marc Jacobs purchases as well as her overflowing shoe rack.
But can she really justify her lifestyle? I mean, c'mon, really? What about saving for the future? Wouldn't she rather own than rent? And what about her job? Wouldn't she rather have a career that enables her to rise above the poverty level? All very good questions. But you don't know Jacqueline…or the thousands upon thousands of other twenty-somethings just like her.
Jacqueline would argue that the ability to buy nice things makes her happy. And isn't that what we all want in life? As for her career choice, she makes more money working in the food and beverage industry than if she were to take the necessary entry-level position. Future savings...Why save for later when you can have now?
In her mind, Jacqueline will never have enough shoes, she will never be satisfied with last year's trends, and she will never go more than one week without making a new purchase for fear of falling behind. No, Jacqueline is not a shopaholic. She, like many of us, has fallen victim to what Juliet Schor refers to as the “new consumerism,” a sickness, an obsession, and a widely accepted way of life.
Juliet Schor, author, analyst, and professor, has been studying consumer culture since the early 1990s. Schor defines new consumerism as being, “an upscaling of consumer aspirations, lifestyles and norms. Where the majority of Americans were once content with a comfortable middle-income life, the new consumerism has seduced far too many of us into keeping up with what's going on throughout the country.” Following in the footsteps of their Baby Boomer parents, (by 1997, nearly 40 percent of all Baby Boomers had less than $10,000 saved for retirement), the newest slew of young adults make money to spend money, placing extreme importance on the image of success rather than what it means to actually be successful.

 


To maintain our image and to keep up with the ever-changing and demanding standards, we buy more and more stuff, ultimately achieving less and less security. In a study conducted by Schor in 1998, 60 percent of families could maintain their standards of living for only one month if their income were to disappear, and 20 percent could only maintain for three months. These are families we're talking about here–which may explain why Jacqueline is able to justify her paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle. Not only has she learned by example, but Schor explains that she is being propelled by fear. “Our fear of the future causes us to overspend, to protect our image of success and live on the edge financially. If what we care about is keeping up, and everyone upscales together, no one's really getting anywhere. We're running harder and faster to stay in place.”
Blind sighted by consumerism, we've begun to shun the simpler things in life, opting for a more self-indulgent lifestyle, and have willingly surrendered to the clutches of consumer America. And as Schor firmly believes, “In the end, we will find ourselves impoverished socially, culturally and spiritually, despite being surrounded by mountains of stuff.” We've traded in our longstanding happiness for instant gratification, but have we set ourselves up for a never-ending quest for unrequited happiness–a life of unhealthy wants, needs and greeds? Juliet Schor would most likely say yes. Jacqueline answered, “You know those $98 Espadrilles? They were on sale for $68!”

Juliet Schor co-founded and currently serves on the board for the center for a New American Dream, www.newdream.org, an organization to “help Americans consume responsibly to protect the environment, enhance the quality of life and promote social justice.” She has also authored The Overworked American: The Unexpected Decline of Leisure, The Overspent American: Upscaling, Downshifting and the New Consumer, and Born to Buy: The Commercialized Child and the New Consumer Culture.



photo by Erik Dungan

Our Year WithoutTelevision
(in which my husband and I decide to go
TV-free, cold turkey)


by Angela A. Barton
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

We pulled the plug on cable after we'd looked over our budget and realized we were spending about $80 a month just to watch Jon Stewart a couple of times a week. Since we didn't watch television that much, we didn't think it would be a big sacrifice to give it up. So we embarked on an experiment–no TV for one year. After the year was over, we would reevaluate and reconnect if we felt so inclined.
Our intention was to save money and time, but we also had some vague idealistic dream that watching less TV would give us more time to spend reading, listening to music, and talking and reconnecting with each other. It was part of an ongoing quest to simplify our lives, similar to asking yourself whether you really need another set of salad tongs.
We could have gone out and bought bunny ears or just purchased basic cable for a lot less money, but we decided to go all the way and make it a lifestyle experiment. Would we have more time to do the things we loved? Would we take care to cook healthier meals and get slimmer and more fit as a result? Would we end up falling in love all over again–or driving each other crazy?
It was true that we didn't watch that much television, but of course we watched more than we had realized. I imagine most of the people who watch the U.S. average of 28 hours a week would greatly underestimate their viewing habits if asked. We didn't factor in the occasional rerun of our favorite sitcom or checking in to see who's on David Letterman.
On the weekend of the Kentucky Derby, I couldn't wait to watch the horse that sounded like a modern day Seabiscuit. I planned my day around the race, and then sat down in front of the TV and grabbed the remote. Five months after we went cable-free, it was the first time I'd forgotten I couldn't watch something. Over the year, there were other times we missed not being able to tune in. This was especially true during major news events, particularly ones where the pictures really tell the story–one that you just can't get from NPR, the Internet and reading the newspaper. So, during hurricane Katrina we were at our computers searching for photos and watching clips. And we found that we could get a pretty good idea of what was going on, in some cases with a lot less spin.
In fact, we're both news and political junkies to some degree, and that was definitely the toughest part of the experiment for my husband. He watched C-Span more than any other program B.C.C. (before cable cutoff) and that was what he missed most of all.
  For my part, I missed watching reruns of Frasier after a tough day at work. But the hardest thing for me was being cut off from pop culture, not being able to check out what I refer to as “train wreck” shows like “The Swan.” So when someone at work would be talking about how awful a show was, and how you just had to see it to believe it, I was kind of bummed that I couldn't tune in to the program and share in the communal event that they are, a modern-day freak show.
Another thing we didn't consider was that when we had out of town guests, they would get annoyed when they couldn't watch their favorite program or a football game. All of a sudden we had become like those people who wouldn't let their kids watch TV. I had friends like that when I was young and it had always seemed so exotic: “You mean you never watch The Wonderful World of Disney?” Such a thing was beyond my comprehension, and too terrible to consider. So now when friends would talk about the characters on “Six Feet Under” or “The Sopranos”, I felt a little left out, the geeky nerd with her nose in a book.
But the best thing about being unplugged was that our hope that we'd have more time to spend together and doing other things we enjoyed was realized. We spent many more hours reading and writing and more time together. We cooked meals and ate them at the dining room table, with napkins and placemats, like adults. We talked about books we were reading, plays we'd seen, politics, our hopes and dreams, and our childhoods. And it really felt like when we were dating, only better. Because now we knew each other so much more deeply and had shared so many experiences and were more in love than ever. Some nights we went out to a movie or to dinner or a play or concert. At times we'd turn the music up loud and dance around the living room, which is the only place I can get my husband to dance. One time we made a date to play each other our five favorite songs and talk about when we'd first heard them and what they meant to us. Sometimes we took long walks in the neighborhood after everybody was asleep. And sometimes we went to bed a little early ourselves.
Our one-year anniversary without television passed unnoticed a few months ago and neither of us has made any moves to reconnect our cable. And I don't think we'll be doing it anytime soon…

Angela Barton is a freelance writer from Los Angeles. She lives with her husband and a 32" monitor for viewing DVDs. She can be reached at ABarton62@yahoo.com.