I recently read a study that found money can buy happiness--if you know where to shop. This got me thinking a lot about conspicuous versus inconspicuous consumption.
Conspicuous consumption refers to pricey clothing, snazzy jewelry, and fabulous shoes. You know, those things that you buy for yourself--and incidentally for everyone else to see.
Conspicuous consumption does nothing for happiness after a certain degree of basic needs are met. What would make us happier is inconspicuous consumption. That is, longer vacations, more time with friends, and other leisurely folly.
This all came to head yesterday as I found myself once more contemplating life alongside the latest pieces of one of my favorite fashion designers. I believe that clothing is worth a pretty penny if it fits well and you feel great in it. Yet I have come to discover a trend among all those pretty pennies I have been spending.
My closet is teeming. In fact, all of my clothes do not even fit in it. I have so many dresses crammed in such close proximity--and I have not a thing to wear. What looked great two weeks ago is boring and ugly and fits poorly this week. And that is when I realized, that maybe I just don't know where to shop.
Yes. I could have dropped more than I should have on that red dress that would be quite stunning on Monday night at the Christmas party that I am going to. Or, I could take that money and buy plane tickets to visit very dear friends in New York and Louisiana.
Amidst these buzzing thoughts, I did a quick inventory check. Of all the new items I have been so pleased to bring into my collection, none of them have made me any happier. In fact, not many of them retain their original flare in my heart (that's not to say I don't like anything--it's just that buying new things all of the time doesn't make me feel any better about what is really bothering me).
Today, after years of being frugal with my gym fees and loosey goosey in my shopping sprees, I decided it was time to reprioritize my finances and focus on inconspicuous spending. I am at the gym nearly everyday--it is an important part of my life and my health--and I keep going back to my usual shit hole because it costs me 12 dollars a month (I've been a member forever). However, what would truly improve the quality of my day is working out in a beautiful, upgraded, hygienic atmosphere with luxurious amenities to boot.
A few hours ago, I did just that. Such a better work out. Such a better day. Such a better bang for my buck.
Showing posts with label materialism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label materialism. Show all posts
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
soy milk and Manolos: reflecting on one year of veganism
Today marks the day that, one year ago, I began my vegan transformation. I have to say, I am still excited and happy as ever to be leading an animal-free dietary lifestyle. I have reduced my carbon footprint, improved my digestion, and experience overall feelings of heightened wellness and energy.
Although today is a day of celebration, it is also a day of reflection for me--and honesty. While eating vegan has been a simple and extremely enjoyable transition, I cannot say the same about dressing vegan. I know that this difficulty stems from my own class privilege and materialism, and so I have been shy to explore the challenge on my blog, or to anyone but a circle of close friends. However, I have decided it is time to come out of the closet. The shoe closet, that is.
When I first developed a vegan dietary lifestyle, I did not jump on the vegan wardrobe bus, but instead told myself that lasting change is incremental, and I needed to transition according to my own comfort level to achieve lasting change. While I certainly decreased the leather shoes and bags I bought, I still made those guilt-ridden purchases, albeit more sporadically. And I felt terrible. But then I got to wear my new purchases, and I felt fantastic.
Here's the thing. It's very easy for me to look at a hamburger and think "dead tortured cow." But when it comes to--let's be honest--Marc Jacobs and Manolo Blahnik, the connection is a little fuzzy. I certainly learned this from my ex-boyfriend, but when it comes to love--or what/whom we think we love--we only see what we want to see. And I have to admit it. I love shoes.
So what's the problem? Non-leather shoes certainly exist, but they do not encompass my classist perception as to what qualifies as an amazing shoe, or a well designed shoe, or an artistic shoe, or a well-made shoe...let's get real: 99% of vegan heels are fugly as hell. I know Natalie Portman has paved the way a bit, but her line just about touts the price, and sadly not the aesthetics, of other high-fashion lines.
Despite the agony I feel, a few months ago I decided I was ready to make the shoe/bag commitment (although I also decided that I am not a vegan when it comes to waste, and so I will keep my prior leather collection). However, I decided not to blog about it until I passed the real test: a Barney's shoe sale. While I haven't hit the big B in a while, I did make it out of a Marc Jacobs shoe sale alive...although many cows did not. And so here I am, being honest about my whole superficial dilemma.
It really does pain me that over-priced wardrobe items are interfering with my own ethical convictions. On the plus side, I have kept my promise to myself for the past few months, despite many tempting offers (insert well-dressed mother here). I also need to realize that I have been superficial my entire life, and only socially conscious for a couple years now. In all honesty, it is extremely difficult to un-do what has been programmed inside of me since birth. Why, my very first pair of high heels purchased in the 6th grade were a fabulous Yves Saint Lauren strappy black sandal that still sit in my closet today for memory's sake. Mama didn't raise no fool--when it came to shoes, my feet had only the very best.
So here I am today. Torn. Will my commitment only last so long as my old Chanels are still in wearable condition? Luckily, leather lasts longer than a human lifetime because it's treated with chemicals that later run off into the soil and poison our groundwater...so I should be good for a while. I also cannot ignore the voice of my mother in my background (Louis Vuitton makes canvas heels).
But this only raises greater philosophical questions: why do I need many pairs of extremely over-priced shoes to satisfactorily complete my ensembles? Because, come on now, one is never enough. I have black pointed-toe heels, black round-toe heels, black wedge heals, black strappy sandal heels, black sling-back heels...the list goes on. And this is only one color.
So here I am. Vegan and aspiring life-style activist...but today I am coming out of the closet. I am still materialistic when it comes to my wardrobe. For all of my reusable shopping bags and aluminum water bottles and compulsive unplugging of unused appliances and vintage this and that, my closet is abusive to the environment.
And since I am being brutally honest, let me just clean out my entire closet. Last week, I bought a fantastic faux-fur jacket from Marc Jacobs--a vegan wet dream, really--but I couldn't escape being haunted by the label. Made in China.
I am just going to sidestep the whole international low-wage labor debate (worker exploitation/humanitarian crisis versus providing jobs to the jobless/growing economies in the 3rd world) and go straight to a fact that is undeniable: it makes no sense environmentally to ship my fantastic faux fur jacket across the world. It might not be a tortured dead animal who required a taxing amount of energy to birth, transport, raise and slaughter--but its an artificial piece of crap that literally just shat carbon emissions across the ocean. And I love it so much.
I do not really have a conclusion for this piece. Suffice it to say that I am acutely aware of my own materialism and class privilege, and the subsequent intersections with over-consumption and waste. Also, suffice it to say that I am deeply engaged in introspective work to challenge and question why it is I do the things I do, and why the things that make me happy really make me happy.
And to be honest, I am also wondering why I carry the burden of the earth on my shoulders, and think that I must be eco-perfect in every single way possible. After all, I do flirt with nihilism and question reality quite often.
This is not something that can be resolved or magically disappear over night. It's one of those life work things. But I thought I would be honest and open up a discussion.
Although today is a day of celebration, it is also a day of reflection for me--and honesty. While eating vegan has been a simple and extremely enjoyable transition, I cannot say the same about dressing vegan. I know that this difficulty stems from my own class privilege and materialism, and so I have been shy to explore the challenge on my blog, or to anyone but a circle of close friends. However, I have decided it is time to come out of the closet. The shoe closet, that is.
When I first developed a vegan dietary lifestyle, I did not jump on the vegan wardrobe bus, but instead told myself that lasting change is incremental, and I needed to transition according to my own comfort level to achieve lasting change. While I certainly decreased the leather shoes and bags I bought, I still made those guilt-ridden purchases, albeit more sporadically. And I felt terrible. But then I got to wear my new purchases, and I felt fantastic.
Here's the thing. It's very easy for me to look at a hamburger and think "dead tortured cow." But when it comes to--let's be honest--Marc Jacobs and Manolo Blahnik, the connection is a little fuzzy. I certainly learned this from my ex-boyfriend, but when it comes to love--or what/whom we think we love--we only see what we want to see. And I have to admit it. I love shoes.
So what's the problem? Non-leather shoes certainly exist, but they do not encompass my classist perception as to what qualifies as an amazing shoe, or a well designed shoe, or an artistic shoe, or a well-made shoe...let's get real: 99% of vegan heels are fugly as hell. I know Natalie Portman has paved the way a bit, but her line just about touts the price, and sadly not the aesthetics, of other high-fashion lines.
Despite the agony I feel, a few months ago I decided I was ready to make the shoe/bag commitment (although I also decided that I am not a vegan when it comes to waste, and so I will keep my prior leather collection). However, I decided not to blog about it until I passed the real test: a Barney's shoe sale. While I haven't hit the big B in a while, I did make it out of a Marc Jacobs shoe sale alive...although many cows did not. And so here I am, being honest about my whole superficial dilemma.
It really does pain me that over-priced wardrobe items are interfering with my own ethical convictions. On the plus side, I have kept my promise to myself for the past few months, despite many tempting offers (insert well-dressed mother here). I also need to realize that I have been superficial my entire life, and only socially conscious for a couple years now. In all honesty, it is extremely difficult to un-do what has been programmed inside of me since birth. Why, my very first pair of high heels purchased in the 6th grade were a fabulous Yves Saint Lauren strappy black sandal that still sit in my closet today for memory's sake. Mama didn't raise no fool--when it came to shoes, my feet had only the very best.
So here I am today. Torn. Will my commitment only last so long as my old Chanels are still in wearable condition? Luckily, leather lasts longer than a human lifetime because it's treated with chemicals that later run off into the soil and poison our groundwater...so I should be good for a while. I also cannot ignore the voice of my mother in my background (Louis Vuitton makes canvas heels).
But this only raises greater philosophical questions: why do I need many pairs of extremely over-priced shoes to satisfactorily complete my ensembles? Because, come on now, one is never enough. I have black pointed-toe heels, black round-toe heels, black wedge heals, black strappy sandal heels, black sling-back heels...the list goes on. And this is only one color.
So here I am. Vegan and aspiring life-style activist...but today I am coming out of the closet. I am still materialistic when it comes to my wardrobe. For all of my reusable shopping bags and aluminum water bottles and compulsive unplugging of unused appliances and vintage this and that, my closet is abusive to the environment.
And since I am being brutally honest, let me just clean out my entire closet. Last week, I bought a fantastic faux-fur jacket from Marc Jacobs--a vegan wet dream, really--but I couldn't escape being haunted by the label. Made in China.
I am just going to sidestep the whole international low-wage labor debate (worker exploitation/humanitarian crisis versus providing jobs to the jobless/growing economies in the 3rd world) and go straight to a fact that is undeniable: it makes no sense environmentally to ship my fantastic faux fur jacket across the world. It might not be a tortured dead animal who required a taxing amount of energy to birth, transport, raise and slaughter--but its an artificial piece of crap that literally just shat carbon emissions across the ocean. And I love it so much.
I do not really have a conclusion for this piece. Suffice it to say that I am acutely aware of my own materialism and class privilege, and the subsequent intersections with over-consumption and waste. Also, suffice it to say that I am deeply engaged in introspective work to challenge and question why it is I do the things I do, and why the things that make me happy really make me happy.
And to be honest, I am also wondering why I carry the burden of the earth on my shoulders, and think that I must be eco-perfect in every single way possible. After all, I do flirt with nihilism and question reality quite often.
This is not something that can be resolved or magically disappear over night. It's one of those life work things. But I thought I would be honest and open up a discussion.
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