Catalog people

This is a clip from the movie Best in Show. In this clip, a young couple named Hamilton and Meg Swan explain how they first met at different Starbucks establishments (across the street from one another) and knew that they were right for each other because they had similar consumption habits.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQKdEdzHnfU

Here is one of my favorite parts of the scene:

Meg Swan: [Meg and Hamilton are talking about how they met at Starbucks] One day Hamilton gathered his courage and approached me...
Hamilton Swan: I remember, I was drinking a grande espresso.
Meg Swan: I know, and I remember I thought that was really sexy. I was drinking cappuccinos... then I switched over to lattes... now it's double espresso macchiato...
Hamilton Swan: These days I'm a big chai tea/soymilk kind of guy.
Meg Swan: [gravely] Because of the lactose. You're lactose-intolerant now.

One of the reasons why this scene was so funny to me was because, although it is obviously a parody of Starbucks faith and fanaticism (before it became uncool to patronize Starbucks), to be defined by your Starbucks order was not uncommon among the girls at my high school. At another point in the scene, Hamilton explains how surprised he was when he looked over to see that Meg was reading a J. Crew catalog, because at the time he was such a “huge J. Crew person” himself. Although we laugh at Hamilton for loading a small event with such undue significance, we do the same thing ourselves only too often. Bonding over similar consumption habits is easy to do, and often corporations themselves do all they can to encourage a feeling of community and exclusivity among their consumers. Here’s an example from an email I received from the clothing company Anthropologie: “It’s great to be an anthro gal - especially when we’re offering you (and you only!) 30% off all ornaments now through December 8. Simply show your anthro I.D. at checkout. So what are you waiting for? Deck those halls, lady!”

Thinking about catalogs was what originally brought this clip from Best in Show to my mind. When it comes to shopping for clothes, I usually prefer to visit brick-and-mortar stores rather than order online or through the mail, but one thing I’ve always liked to do since I was little is look through catalogs. At home, this was quite easy to do, as my parents were always receiving catalogues in the mailbox from retailers they had previously bought things from. One distinct memory I have is of a particular catalog that sold novelty and “vintage” items like jukeboxes, dollhouses, and grandfather clocks. I absolutely loved this catalog and carried it around with me everywhere. I was about six at the time, and while I didn’t have any use for about 95% of the goods advertised in the catalog, I could have recited the item descriptions from memory and used it often when playing “mall” with my friends. However, if anyone had asked me at the time to name one thing in the catalog that I truly wanted, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I much preferred the idea of the things themselves all in a group.

Maybe I knew, on some subconscious level, that actually going through the process of ordering the items would only lead to disappointment, but I doubt that I was such a cynical six-year-old. I think rather that I was able, at that age, to fully believe in the Myth of Stuff - the idea that owning lots of interesting things can transform you into a better version of yourself. And by carrying that catalog around with me, I was able to channel that belief in a small way. Because I had had very little experience in buying things for myself at that age, that belief didn’t ultimately translate to me becoming a complete retail junkie. However, even today, after taking this class and becoming more aware of the deeper sociological meanings behind consumption and people’s shopping habits, I enjoy thinking about material goods and occasionally find myself believing in the promises behind them, even if I don’t shop as much as some of my peers do.

Here at Williams, one of the first stops I always make whenever I visit Paresky is the mailroom, where I first check my mailbox and then stop by the table of catalogs. Now that the holiday season is upon us, the amount of catalogues advertising “Great gift ideas!” and “Special deals and unbelievable sales!” has increased greatly, and like the sucker I am, I always end up taking away at least three different ones, usually, as it turns out, from J. Crew. J. Crew is certainly one of the best retailers out there in terms of communicating a lifestyle and image that goes along with its products, and although it mass-produces its clothing just like any well-known retail chain, it tries to create an air of exclusivity and “bespoke” by emphasizing the craft stories behind their clothes and charging higher prices than one would expect for a simple wool cable sweater.

For example, on one page advertising a coat in the new Holiday 2008 issue of J. Crew, the blurb on the side reads as follows: “If You Only Knew… this isn’t just any old double-cloth. It’s made by Lanerie Tempesti, an 80-year-old Italian mill known for its incredible wools. We loved their work so much we asked them to make this fabric especially for us. We know a good thing when we see it.” Sure, the coat might be mass-produced by J. Crew factories, and by buying it you’re not really being unique at all, as thousands of other people will probably purchase it as well. BUT: it’s not just any old double-cloth coat; it’s a coat with a story behind it. I read that paragraph and smiled knowingly to myself (“Ohoho, you J. Crew scoundrels! I, knowledgeable young student that I am, know better and will refuse to buy your $300 coat - not because I can’t afford to, although I really can’t, but because I refuse to buy into the myth that I will become a classier individual if I do get it!”), but at the same time, I found myself thinking longingly of the rolling hills of Tuscany, and somehow that became connected with my image of the coat.

After a while, I couldn’t help but deconstruct all of the pages of the J. Crew catalog, which, though fun for a while, only depressed me in the end. I put the catalog away, and began to wonder if learning more about consumerism in this class had completely taken any joy out of the act of shopping for me.

I decided in the end that this true, but only to a certain extent. Although learning about the ideology behind consumerism and the corporate trends of conformity used to perpetuate shopping habits certainly made me rethink my individual decisions as a consumer, being able to deconstruct ads and think critically about consumption had made me realize that joy, in terms of shopping, had never entered the picture in the first place. I can still take pleasure in a smart buy, or in purchasing gifts for friends or family, but I believe that part of “smart shopping” is the realization that consumerism is not, and should not, become the end-all, be-all to our needs and qualms about ourselves and everyday living. You can admire the color and cut of a high-quality coat, but in the end, you are good enough to get along without it.

To quote from another great movie, here’s Tyler Durden from Fight Club talking about the meaning of a duvet: “It's a blanket. Just a blanket. Now why do guys like you and me know what a duvet is? Is this essential to our survival, in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word? No.”