about staycations

A "staycation" is not a thing and I would prefer people stop saying it.

The New Girl sports her newness

This New York Magazine profile says a Zooey Deschanel is not an Apple product like we all thought. A Zooey Deschanel is actually a constant, expansive, and versatile market force carried out through a persona. And a Zooey Deschanel persona is a composite of associations--associations with sexuality, quirkiness (sometimes mistaken for "originality"), innocence, fun, and indie credibility with all its emphasis on authenticity and sincerity. People, especially those who fancy themselves hip and/or original, explore these conceptual areas for opportunities to escape consumer culture. But every attempt to step outside that culture just expands the Market's reach there (and beyond). A Zooey Deschanel is that reach manifest; her persona is singular in that it does not change whether on or off camera, thereby invoking a claim to authenticity and sincerity that empowers it to follow the hip and the original to new areas into which the market can flourish.


Notes:

The NYMagazine profile writer is aware and even seems vaguely complicit with the permanent marketing campaign of a Zooey Deschanel--until sticking this jab at the end using a Zooey Deschanel's own words:

Hearing the CD reminded me of how she had gotten very impassioned when I asked her if she and Gibbard bonded over music the first time they met. “I’m wary about this thing about being in the generation of social networking where people are like, ‘I am my musical taste,’” she said. “I am not just a collection of music. Or a collection of movies. I think that’s a thing that people romanticize: ‘Oh my God, she likes this band so she is a dream.’ I’ve definitely learned that you can easily get stars in your eyes. I’ll meet directors and they’ll be like, ‘I love Godard!’ And they love screwball comedies and they love all these things I love, and then it’s, like, ‘Wait a minute, that doesn’t mean they can make movies.’“ 

Just because somebody likes something doesn’t mean ... anything, really.”

Right there a Zooey Deschanel shoots down the sole reason she is appealing, and apes the very reaction that people have to her: A Zooey Deschanel is so cute because she likes Hello Kitty! A Zooey Deschanel is a composite of associations and likes that constantly advertises those likes, thereby associating a Zooey Deschanel with whatever associations the audience has with the objects being liked.

In a sense, none of this is unique to a Zooey Deschanel, but it is perhaps taken to a new level and with a new audience.

I first saw a Zooey Deschanel in an Apple product commercial, and I noticed the face design that says, "You are looking at me" (or, "I am a thing that is looked at").

About a so-so book review in "The New Yorker"

"The Disconnect" gives a sloppy discussion while reviewing Going Solo: The Extraordinary Rise and Surprising Appeal of Living Alone by Eric Klinenberg. First the writer hazards that "Few things are less welcome today than protracted solitude". Whoa--what about people with kids they can't afford, or medical bills from ailing children and spouses? Wrecked and loveless marriages, and stifling alimony and child support payments? Or even smaller, more subtle miseries, like silent, nightly dinners with children you can't relate to, who hate and resent you? Are those things more welcome than protracted solitude? What about never being alone? How is that liked?

Next, the article poses the question: "as a rule, do people live alone because they want to or because they have to?" Subsequent passages suggest aloneness is usually a choice: (1) "Things changed when she made the decision to buy an apartment, committing to a future alone." (2) "Some people remain single out of a disinclination to settle." But the idea that aloneness is a a choice is casually abandoned in the next section, wherein the piece's most interesting part is revealed:

In a landmark study, “Bowling Alone” (2000), the Harvard political scientist Robert D. Putnam noted a puzzling three-decade decline in what he called “social capital”: the networks of support and reciprocity that bind people together and help things get done collectively. His work considered the waning of everything from P.T.A. enrollment to dinner parties and card games, but the core of his argument was declining civic participation. Between 1973 and 1994, the number of people who held a leadership role in any local organization fell by more than half. Newspaper readership among people under thirty-five dropped during a similar period, as did voting rates. Why? Putnam pointed to cultural shifts among the post-Second World War generation; the privatization of leisure (for example, TV); and, to a smaller extent, the growth of a commuting culture and the time constraints of two-career, or single-parent, family life. “Older strands of social connection were being abraded—even destroyed—by technological and economic and social change,” he wrote.

That last sentence is key, where the emphasis should fall on economic changes--changes so huge we can only begin to appreciate them. For starters, economic changes now mean people move around more, spend less time in one city or neighborhood, work several, maybe dozens of jobs in their lifetimes rather than one or two, and that unions have been dissolved, and on and on: all this, just for starters, is related to economic change. But this significant nugget, contained in a single paragraph, goes painfully unexplored by the author, who sums up the aforementioned study, saying, "Putnam, in other words, saw public institutions as a casualty of the same forces of individuation driving modern aloneness."

So now the rise in aloneness is driven by larger forces, and is no longer a choice. The original question, do people live alone because they want to or because they have to?, is now sort-of rhetorical. From here the article briefly, un-insightfully discusses online social interaction, confusing the original topic, aloneness, with something else--loneliness. But then the author pretty much dismisses the entire conversation by saying, "The truth is that lonely people at home typically contact friends, loiter in bookstores, work in cafés, take on roommates, open OKCupid profiles, or dance Tecktonik at a rave."

Oh, ok. Then what the hell are we talking about?

A manner of speaking (at NPR)

A lot of the hosts and contributors on NPR have acquired that speaking quirk of frequently beginning sentences with the word so. So is now a discourse marker or discourse particle.

A possible trend in journalism and writing

I bet critical obituaries will grow more common. The most recent high-profile example is Salon's "Andrew Breitbart, 1969-2012". This trend--if it is one--I first noticed after Christopher Hitchens died. Yes, some figures, like Hitchens and Breitbart, are more likely to draw fire after death, but now everything is politics. So look out--after a celebrity or politician of any stripe dies, writers will rush to publish something harsh. Doing so, they imagine, is just setting the record straight. (Weird how that runs parallel to current journalism's rampant fairness bias--reporters giving equal weight to opposing views when one side's argument doesn't deserve it.)

Validation!

Recently I commented on “You Say You Want a Devolution", Kurt Andersen's article in the current (January 2012) Vanity Fair in which he argues that America has stagnated culturally, as evidenced by 20 or more years of unchanged style and fashion. I've spotted a number of published responses, including "Is 2011 really just 1991?" by Maria Russo in Salon. Of course I cite hers specifically because her thoughts brush elbows with mine, if only briefly, when she echos my guess that what people wear and what they listen to means less now (or at least means something different):

Technology is definitely making lifestyle—and the expense associated with acquiring it—less relevant. (Which is fortunate for those of us who can no longer afford much of one, anyway.) Much of what Andersen prizes from the allegedly more innovative American past is just display. But when your life—public and private, working and leisurely—revolves around a MacBook and an iPhone, and constant, disembodied exchanges of information in placeless cyber realms… well, you don’t need to overturn the Aeron chair, do you? Nor do you need to fixate on the status-symbolism of where you live. Best of all, you don’t need to worry about what you buy and what it says about you, because you may buy very little.

Notes:

• Also, she sounds way too condescending throughout.

The times, they are a-changin'

In the Vanity Fair piece "You Say You Want a Devolution?", Kurt Anderson argues that fashion and design--art, music, movies, television, clothes, cars, etc.--looks much the same as it did 20 years ago. This fashion freeze is our collective response, Anderson offers, to the unparalleled rapidity of change in other areas such as economics and technology.

It's an interesting thesis. Well argued and written, too. But to totally buy into his idea, you have to share Anderson's vision: Anderson sees fashion as a collective bundle of popular trends, and the evolution of these trends looks something like a line on a graph surging upward as trends continue evolving. Over the last 20 years, though, that line has leveled off, according to his view.

This picture needs complicating, so I suggest an alternative model.

First, sticking with our graph: I think fashion includes at least a few lines, not just one, that have historically surged upward. And rather than leveling off, I see these lines splintering over last 20 years--even more so the last ten--as social groups subdivide into ever smaller subcultures of like-minded people.

While most of these lines keep trending upward over time, in my splintered model there could indeed exist some mainstream line hovering between and below these subcultures--a mainline that appears to level off and soldier on. But rather than see this grouping as having stagnated, it could be they just dropped their fidelity to fashion altogether. In this sense, their line simply stops. For them--the designers and the consumers--fashion has moved from the aesthetic realm to the political. (Note that fashion continues to demarcate affiliations.)

What the mainstream wears and what they listen to means less (or at least means something different) to them now than it did 20 years ago. So, for example, if you wore a new pair of Nike sneakers in 1993, you were saying something: Nike was synonymous with Michael Jordan and basketball supremacy, and the label was expensive so a new pair of kicks was a sign of status. If you're wearing a new pair of Nike shoes today, it's probably because your old ones wore out. More likely you wear New Balance because you've chosen comfort and practicality--the politics of personal choice--over glamour and status--the fidelity to fashion.

Anderson too briefly discusses changes in how we consume fashion. He's right here, of course, but doesn't take it far enough. He says,

The only thing that has changed fundamentally and dramatically about stylish objects (computerized gadgets aside) during the last 20 years is the same thing that’s changed fundamentally and dramatically about movies and books and music—how they’re produced and distributed, not how they look and feel and sound, not what they are.

Yes, technologically production, distribution, and consumption has changed. But these facets have changed in meaning, too. How and what we make and consume is now a political matter: Toyota Prius or Hummer? File sharing and torrents or iTunes? Walmart, Whole Foods, or local?

-Other Notes:

• Anderson noted the tendency towards nostalgia one minute and then pointed to the outright freeze on design the next. This muddled his point. But his words ring clearly when he hypothesizes about the institutional and market forces at work.

• Certainly not all but many successful artists (designers, trend setters) from all fields in every age have kept an eye on the past. Designers and architects who worked in the Georgian period of the 18th century drew from the Classical Age just as their descendants in the age of Art Deco did in the 1930s.

• In the 1990's we referenced the 1970's. Right now (2011) the 1980's seem popular; the post-hippie feel of the Grunge era has been replaced by the post-New Wave kids of today.

• There is nothing totally new under the sun.