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The Sum of Small Things: A Theory of the Aspirational Class
How the leisure class has been replaced by a new elite, and how their consumer habits affect us all
In today's world, the leisure class has been replaced by a new elite. Highly educated and defined by cultural capital rather than income bracket, these individuals earnestly buy organic, carry NPR tote bags, and breast-feed their babies. They care about discreet, inconspicuous consumption--like eating free-range chicken and heirloom tomatoes, wearing organic cotton shirts and TOMS shoes, and listening to the Serial podcast. They use their purchasing power to hire nannies and housekeepers, to cultivate their children's growth, and to practice yoga and Pilates. In The Sum of Small Things, Elizabeth Currid-Halkett dubs this segment of society "the aspirational class" and discusses how, through deft decisions about education, health, parenting, and retirement, the aspirational class reproduces wealth and upward mobility, deepening the ever-wider class divide.
Exploring the rise of the aspirational class, Currid-Halkett considers how much has changed since the 1899 publication of Thorstein Veblen's Theory of the Leisure Class. In that inflammatory classic, which coined the phrase "conspicuous consumption," Veblen described upper-class frivolities: men who used walking sticks for show, and women who bought silver flatware despite the effectiveness of cheaper aluminum utensils. Now, Currid-Halkett argues, the power of material goods as symbols of social position has diminished due to their accessibility. As a result, the aspirational class has altered its consumer habits away from overt materialism to more subtle expenditures that reveal status and knowledge. And these transformations influence how we all make choices.
With a rich narrative and extensive interviews and research, The Sum of Small Things illustrates how cultural capital leads to lifestyle shifts and what this forecasts, not just for the aspirational class but for everyone.
In today's world, the leisure class has been replaced by a new elite. Highly educated and defined by cultural capital rather than income bracket, these individuals earnestly buy organic, carry NPR tote bags, and breast-feed their babies. They care about discreet, inconspicuous consumption--like eating free-range chicken and heirloom tomatoes, wearing organic cotton shirts and TOMS shoes, and listening to the Serial podcast. They use their purchasing power to hire nannies and housekeepers, to cultivate their children's growth, and to practice yoga and Pilates. In The Sum of Small Things, Elizabeth Currid-Halkett dubs this segment of society "the aspirational class" and discusses how, through deft decisions about education, health, parenting, and retirement, the aspirational class reproduces wealth and upward mobility, deepening the ever-wider class divide.
Exploring the rise of the aspirational class, Currid-Halkett considers how much has changed since the 1899 publication of Thorstein Veblen's Theory of the Leisure Class. In that inflammatory classic, which coined the phrase "conspicuous consumption," Veblen described upper-class frivolities: men who used walking sticks for show, and women who bought silver flatware despite the effectiveness of cheaper aluminum utensils. Now, Currid-Halkett argues, the power of material goods as symbols of social position has diminished due to their accessibility. As a result, the aspirational class has altered its consumer habits away from overt materialism to more subtle expenditures that reveal status and knowledge. And these transformations influence how we all make choices.
With a rich narrative and extensive interviews and research, The Sum of Small Things illustrates how cultural capital leads to lifestyle shifts and what this forecasts, not just for the aspirational class but for everyone.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published May 23, 2017
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6007 people want to read
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June 14, 2017
If you're interested in the interplay between consumption and status, you'll like (three stars) this book. The problem, though, is that while the author provides some interesting information (and is thus worth picking up for the references alone), I found myself confused about the ultimate normative argument and dubious about some of the descriptive claims. Here are some of my lingering questions/comments:
- What is her normative evaluation of the aspirational class? On one hand, she seems to think it's worse because these people are spending money on the kinds of inconspicuous goods, like education for their kids, that is more likely to reproduce inequality than if they spent on clothes. So, she argues, they are exacerbating inequality. But... is that right? As compared to what? In other words, is this more likely to increase or perpetuate inequality than a world without this class? I suspect it matters a bit whose in the class. And, as we see, it's not just (or really, primarily) the uber wealthy. Instead, it's populated by people who have invested a lot (often, though not exclusively, with the serious financial aid of their parents) in the accumulation of social and cultural capital. They have advanced degrees, know all the cool music, read the right stuff, etc. But if these people aren't coming primarily from the super wealthy, then doesn't that mean that the aspirational class gives more people options for succeeding in the class wars? That is, you don't *have* to be born rich to be high-status because you can develop your cultural capital instead. Indeed, the author points out numerous times that one interesting this about the aspirational class is that it cannot be easily delineated by economic capital. That is, these people aren't all themselves or the children of people with lots of money. If that's right, why is the creation of this class *worse than the alternative* for inequality? Does the opening up of new ways to raise your status instead help challenge the status of the uber-wealthy? Does it move us in the direction of equality?
One theory you could have about why this is bad (though not one she provides, though one I'm interested in) would compare the fracturing of class and status to the fracturing of the American corporate elite. (See Mark S. Mizruchi's book, The Fracturing of the American Corporate Elite - HUP 2013). Today, we see class and status power fractured - where once the same individuals were vested with all capital (economic, social, cultural), today those are split. Some people have social but not economic, economic but not cultural, etc. (See Mike Savage Social Class in the 21st Century [discussing the UK but the same idea would hold]). The problem with this is that fracturing makes it harder to identify and fix issues of inequality, or to regulate for whatever end you want. It also makes collective action more difficult. If lots more people have ways to get at least some capital (economic or social or cultural) maybe they are less likely to think the status games are problematic (because they can play more easily). Maybe this dynamic exacerbates long-term inequality. That'd be an interesting argument but it's not there.
- But moving back to the book, in addition to asserting that the aspirational class is bad of equality, she also suggests ways that their consumption habits might *decrease* inequality. She talks about "conspicuous production" (clever catchphrase that I will use!) and how those within this class care about where a product is from, who made it, etc. Now, that can lead to market demand for animals treated well, or improved labor practices (consider the strategies used by the Coalition of Immokalee Workers). If that's right, isn't this new class helping?
Now, one concern is that these people don't actually care about e.g., the environment, workers, happy animals, etc. they just want to paint a pretty picture in their head of those things. If that's right, then of course conspicuous production isn't likely to help those picking the organic fruit. But she never gives us data to understand if this is what's happening. She mentions one other scholar who takes this view (and I have worried about this in other work) but what does she think? Where is the data?
And, again, if this enjoyment of conspicuous production *does* help make the world a slightly more just place, isn't that at least kinda-sorta good?
- One possible concern (and one she very briefly mentions but does not develop) is that the aspirational class, because its fueled by belief in meritocracy and its members have often gotten into the class by working hard, thinks they deserve their status in the world and others deserve their status too. And this desert will help them justify their own position and their not-helping those who got screwed in the where-and-t0-whom-you-were-born lottery. But 1) this stands in contrast to her argument that the aspirational class cares a lot about those less well-off than them (she mentions Maslow's hierarchy here) and 2) is belied by their spending on conspicuous production (unless she thinks they don't *really* care about production, but she never gives us data to show this).
In short: there are a lot of internal contradictions in the description of this group. (I am interested in the ethics of consumption and was thus a bit disappointed by the internal tensions in her characterization of these people).
- Lastly, I don't get the title. Her point isn't the sum of *small* things, it's the sum of *invisible* things. Or invisible things made visible. Or big-invisible things. Part of the argument is that the aspirational class, while still spending on conspicuous consumption spends more these days on 1) conspicuous production and 2) inconspicuous consumption (e.g. healthcare, education, outsourcing domestic labor (childcare, housework, etc.)). Both of these are supposed to stand in contrast to the gaudy (accd. to the aspirational class [and me]) Louis Vuitton logos, Chanel labels, etc. in that they aren't conspicuous. The operative trait of aspirational class spending is that the most important segment of it lacks visibility. And as for size, this spending is the opposite of a sum of small things. One of the bigger problems for the author is that those lower down the status food chain cannot replicate the purchases of the aspirational class because they are so not-small! You can save your money and get a decently expensive purse but most can't save enough to put their kids through college today. You can't, if you are poor, buy yourself the free time necessary to read all the hip books, reviews, and online articles. So while a minor thing, the title makes no sense to me.
There are some incredibly interesting and challenging questions raised by the consumer behaviors. In our current political climate we see, from #boycottuber to massive pushes to get big companies to pull ads from sites like Breitbart, consumer purchasing power being treated as a political tool. It's also, as this book details, considered by those within the aspirational class to be a moral issue as well. Or, at least, maybe. How to think about this, especially in a purportedly liberal democracy where the market is thought distinct from the political sphere, is exciting and important. But this book didn't help me think more carefully about these issues. Nonetheless, the data provided on how various groups spend is itself valuable for those interested in these questions. Overall, I enjoyed the book and will cite it in future work.
- What is her normative evaluation of the aspirational class? On one hand, she seems to think it's worse because these people are spending money on the kinds of inconspicuous goods, like education for their kids, that is more likely to reproduce inequality than if they spent on clothes. So, she argues, they are exacerbating inequality. But... is that right? As compared to what? In other words, is this more likely to increase or perpetuate inequality than a world without this class? I suspect it matters a bit whose in the class. And, as we see, it's not just (or really, primarily) the uber wealthy. Instead, it's populated by people who have invested a lot (often, though not exclusively, with the serious financial aid of their parents) in the accumulation of social and cultural capital. They have advanced degrees, know all the cool music, read the right stuff, etc. But if these people aren't coming primarily from the super wealthy, then doesn't that mean that the aspirational class gives more people options for succeeding in the class wars? That is, you don't *have* to be born rich to be high-status because you can develop your cultural capital instead. Indeed, the author points out numerous times that one interesting this about the aspirational class is that it cannot be easily delineated by economic capital. That is, these people aren't all themselves or the children of people with lots of money. If that's right, why is the creation of this class *worse than the alternative* for inequality? Does the opening up of new ways to raise your status instead help challenge the status of the uber-wealthy? Does it move us in the direction of equality?
One theory you could have about why this is bad (though not one she provides, though one I'm interested in) would compare the fracturing of class and status to the fracturing of the American corporate elite. (See Mark S. Mizruchi's book, The Fracturing of the American Corporate Elite - HUP 2013). Today, we see class and status power fractured - where once the same individuals were vested with all capital (economic, social, cultural), today those are split. Some people have social but not economic, economic but not cultural, etc. (See Mike Savage Social Class in the 21st Century [discussing the UK but the same idea would hold]). The problem with this is that fracturing makes it harder to identify and fix issues of inequality, or to regulate for whatever end you want. It also makes collective action more difficult. If lots more people have ways to get at least some capital (economic or social or cultural) maybe they are less likely to think the status games are problematic (because they can play more easily). Maybe this dynamic exacerbates long-term inequality. That'd be an interesting argument but it's not there.
- But moving back to the book, in addition to asserting that the aspirational class is bad of equality, she also suggests ways that their consumption habits might *decrease* inequality. She talks about "conspicuous production" (clever catchphrase that I will use!) and how those within this class care about where a product is from, who made it, etc. Now, that can lead to market demand for animals treated well, or improved labor practices (consider the strategies used by the Coalition of Immokalee Workers). If that's right, isn't this new class helping?
Now, one concern is that these people don't actually care about e.g., the environment, workers, happy animals, etc. they just want to paint a pretty picture in their head of those things. If that's right, then of course conspicuous production isn't likely to help those picking the organic fruit. But she never gives us data to understand if this is what's happening. She mentions one other scholar who takes this view (and I have worried about this in other work) but what does she think? Where is the data?
And, again, if this enjoyment of conspicuous production *does* help make the world a slightly more just place, isn't that at least kinda-sorta good?
- One possible concern (and one she very briefly mentions but does not develop) is that the aspirational class, because its fueled by belief in meritocracy and its members have often gotten into the class by working hard, thinks they deserve their status in the world and others deserve their status too. And this desert will help them justify their own position and their not-helping those who got screwed in the where-and-t0-whom-you-were-born lottery. But 1) this stands in contrast to her argument that the aspirational class cares a lot about those less well-off than them (she mentions Maslow's hierarchy here) and 2) is belied by their spending on conspicuous production (unless she thinks they don't *really* care about production, but she never gives us data to show this).
In short: there are a lot of internal contradictions in the description of this group. (I am interested in the ethics of consumption and was thus a bit disappointed by the internal tensions in her characterization of these people).
- Lastly, I don't get the title. Her point isn't the sum of *small* things, it's the sum of *invisible* things. Or invisible things made visible. Or big-invisible things. Part of the argument is that the aspirational class, while still spending on conspicuous consumption spends more these days on 1) conspicuous production and 2) inconspicuous consumption (e.g. healthcare, education, outsourcing domestic labor (childcare, housework, etc.)). Both of these are supposed to stand in contrast to the gaudy (accd. to the aspirational class [and me]) Louis Vuitton logos, Chanel labels, etc. in that they aren't conspicuous. The operative trait of aspirational class spending is that the most important segment of it lacks visibility. And as for size, this spending is the opposite of a sum of small things. One of the bigger problems for the author is that those lower down the status food chain cannot replicate the purchases of the aspirational class because they are so not-small! You can save your money and get a decently expensive purse but most can't save enough to put their kids through college today. You can't, if you are poor, buy yourself the free time necessary to read all the hip books, reviews, and online articles. So while a minor thing, the title makes no sense to me.
There are some incredibly interesting and challenging questions raised by the consumer behaviors. In our current political climate we see, from #boycottuber to massive pushes to get big companies to pull ads from sites like Breitbart, consumer purchasing power being treated as a political tool. It's also, as this book details, considered by those within the aspirational class to be a moral issue as well. Or, at least, maybe. How to think about this, especially in a purportedly liberal democracy where the market is thought distinct from the political sphere, is exciting and important. But this book didn't help me think more carefully about these issues. Nonetheless, the data provided on how various groups spend is itself valuable for those interested in these questions. Overall, I enjoyed the book and will cite it in future work.
January 17, 2019
A solid and entertaining look at one of my favorite intersections: economics and animal behavior, as demonstrated by class hierarchies and irrational consumption.
The main thesis of the book is that, in this crazy post-modern, post-industrial, declining West, we're experiencing increasing class stratification via new (zany!) forms of conspicuous consumption (the finest breastfeeding accessories!) coupled with inequality-exacerbating "inconspicuous" consumption (the finest tutors, the finest healthcare). Elizabeth Currid-Halkett is a professor of public policy at the University of Southern California, and the book is a fairly solid combo of quantitative research (though it is awash, I say, AWASH in frustratingly weakly-identified correlations), as well as a general lit review of interesting economists and sociologists: Thomas Picketty, William Easterly, Tyler Cowan, Ed Glaeser, a bunch of other notables.
It spoke my language, and it spoke right to me: especially since I am, by Currid-Halkett's definition, a member of the "aspirational class" (basically the new bourgeoisie). As such, a lot of the behaviors and "lifestyle choices" she described were cringe-inducingly on-point.
But let's back up! Imagine, if you will, the Past, when the wealthy sought to differentiate themselves by buying relatively scarce, expensive goods. Silverware, fine china, rugs, etc. Thanks to globalization and industrial development, most consumer goods have become very cheap and spending yourself into debt has become normalized - and so the wealthy have, since the 90s or so, needed to find fresh new ways to differentiate themselves. Currid-Halkett describes a lot of these new forms of conspicuous consumption, especially as mediated by America's myth of a classless society. She makes some interesting points about a new "aspirational" class, which has blurred income boundaries (e.g. the hipster earning $30k vs. the tech C-level executive earning $200k) but shared values and similar signaling. She talks a lot about how "value-driven" consumption and production has risen in a post-modern world, and how these behaviors - for example, to buy organic food, to breastfeed, to buy "fair trade" coffee - are all imbued with moral weight, even if they pretend to be completely detached from basic economic realities and privilege.
The book's sections were super in my wheelhouse as well: childbirth and childrearing, food, and urban living as giant (secret) signals of class wrapped up and presented as signals of knowledge and good (liberal) values. Also, the worship of productivity, and the values of "aspirational" class people to "buy time" and to make their leisure time "productive". Shit, man, I was listening to this as an audiobook on 1.8x speed while exercising - i.e. I was LITERALLY DOING WHAT SHE WAS DESCRIBING - all so I could "perform" my class: performing my well-read-ness (thanks, Goodreads platform), performing my health savviness (thanks, disposal income for gym membership), performing my productivity (multitasking! no second left unturned!), and so on.
The section on food was in the same vein - basically, Whole Foods/Paycheck is a ruse of marketing - but here, I had to dig in my heels, because Big Food in America is a big issue in my heart, and I do think Whole Foods offers (AT LEAST ON THE CHEESE FRONT) some light. And yes, you pay through the nose for it. Good food should not only be for the rich!!! But, as the Italian chefs said at a cooking class I took a while ago (allow me to perform my rich, cultural knowledge), the best place to get Italian ingredients is... Whole Foods.
Speaking of cheese, two things kinda grated on me about the book.
First, Currid-Halkett's supplies ample, ample quantitative research. Unfortunately, all of this is marred by (a) the inherent, philosophical problems of measuring consumption (I was reminded of Angus Deaton's meticulous agonies over how to define a consumption bundle) and (b) AAALLLLL of this was correlated with AAAALLL the rest of it. There's nothing we can really do about (b) - you can't really randomize class... - but it was dizzying and frustrating how incredibly entangled all these data points were. Example: one of C-H's BIG points is that the aspirational/upper classes are spending increasingly more on "inconspicuous" consumption goods: that is, goods that offer huge advantages but aren't on display. Namely, education - health - childcare. But... all those "inconspicuous" goods have just gotten WAY MORE EXPENSIVE in the last 30 years -
See this chart by the American Enterprise Institute
- and this is something C-H only vaguely acknowledges. But this confuses everything! If these goods are getting more pricey, then everyone should be spending more, in absolute terms, on them. And the poor should be spending more, as a % of income. If they're NOT, then that needs explaining. Is there a binary "drop-off" point at which the poor just STOP spending on this stuff (e.g. you can't buy part of a college education)? This wasn't explored/discussed/disentangled enough.
My second critique - and this is more of a wish - is that C-H never acknowledges the very interesting animal behavior/hairless ape hierarchy stuff that, well, drives the whole business of class and preening consumption anyway. Okay, okay, she's not an animal behaviorist or biologist, but this is such a missed opportunity! Econ in general is not the smartest about this (the myth of homo economicus - i.e. a rational agent - is still the core of things, and behavioral economics - i .e. the acknowledgement that we're systematically irrational, i.e. that we're human beings - is a recent, late 20th century development; when will we take the next step and realize that we're not just human, we're, ahem, animal). But I think it's SO INTERESTING that (a) we're apes and thus (b) we have weird social hierarchies built-in that (c) manifest via economic systems like money, "work" and spending. Man. MAAAN. Someone should write THAT book - and they can call it Animal Spirits!
The main thesis of the book is that, in this crazy post-modern, post-industrial, declining West, we're experiencing increasing class stratification via new (zany!) forms of conspicuous consumption (the finest breastfeeding accessories!) coupled with inequality-exacerbating "inconspicuous" consumption (the finest tutors, the finest healthcare). Elizabeth Currid-Halkett is a professor of public policy at the University of Southern California, and the book is a fairly solid combo of quantitative research (though it is awash, I say, AWASH in frustratingly weakly-identified correlations), as well as a general lit review of interesting economists and sociologists: Thomas Picketty, William Easterly, Tyler Cowan, Ed Glaeser, a bunch of other notables.
It spoke my language, and it spoke right to me: especially since I am, by Currid-Halkett's definition, a member of the "aspirational class" (basically the new bourgeoisie). As such, a lot of the behaviors and "lifestyle choices" she described were cringe-inducingly on-point.
But let's back up! Imagine, if you will, the Past, when the wealthy sought to differentiate themselves by buying relatively scarce, expensive goods. Silverware, fine china, rugs, etc. Thanks to globalization and industrial development, most consumer goods have become very cheap and spending yourself into debt has become normalized - and so the wealthy have, since the 90s or so, needed to find fresh new ways to differentiate themselves. Currid-Halkett describes a lot of these new forms of conspicuous consumption, especially as mediated by America's myth of a classless society. She makes some interesting points about a new "aspirational" class, which has blurred income boundaries (e.g. the hipster earning $30k vs. the tech C-level executive earning $200k) but shared values and similar signaling. She talks a lot about how "value-driven" consumption and production has risen in a post-modern world, and how these behaviors - for example, to buy organic food, to breastfeed, to buy "fair trade" coffee - are all imbued with moral weight, even if they pretend to be completely detached from basic economic realities and privilege.
The book's sections were super in my wheelhouse as well: childbirth and childrearing, food, and urban living as giant (secret) signals of class wrapped up and presented as signals of knowledge and good (liberal) values. Also, the worship of productivity, and the values of "aspirational" class people to "buy time" and to make their leisure time "productive". Shit, man, I was listening to this as an audiobook on 1.8x speed while exercising - i.e. I was LITERALLY DOING WHAT SHE WAS DESCRIBING - all so I could "perform" my class: performing my well-read-ness (thanks, Goodreads platform), performing my health savviness (thanks, disposal income for gym membership), performing my productivity (multitasking! no second left unturned!), and so on.
The section on food was in the same vein - basically, Whole Foods/Paycheck is a ruse of marketing - but here, I had to dig in my heels, because Big Food in America is a big issue in my heart, and I do think Whole Foods offers (AT LEAST ON THE CHEESE FRONT) some light. And yes, you pay through the nose for it. Good food should not only be for the rich!!! But, as the Italian chefs said at a cooking class I took a while ago (allow me to perform my rich, cultural knowledge), the best place to get Italian ingredients is... Whole Foods.
Speaking of cheese, two things kinda grated on me about the book.
First, Currid-Halkett's supplies ample, ample quantitative research. Unfortunately, all of this is marred by (a) the inherent, philosophical problems of measuring consumption (I was reminded of Angus Deaton's meticulous agonies over how to define a consumption bundle) and (b) AAALLLLL of this was correlated with AAAALLL the rest of it. There's nothing we can really do about (b) - you can't really randomize class... - but it was dizzying and frustrating how incredibly entangled all these data points were. Example: one of C-H's BIG points is that the aspirational/upper classes are spending increasingly more on "inconspicuous" consumption goods: that is, goods that offer huge advantages but aren't on display. Namely, education - health - childcare. But... all those "inconspicuous" goods have just gotten WAY MORE EXPENSIVE in the last 30 years -
See this chart by the American Enterprise Institute
- and this is something C-H only vaguely acknowledges. But this confuses everything! If these goods are getting more pricey, then everyone should be spending more, in absolute terms, on them. And the poor should be spending more, as a % of income. If they're NOT, then that needs explaining. Is there a binary "drop-off" point at which the poor just STOP spending on this stuff (e.g. you can't buy part of a college education)? This wasn't explored/discussed/disentangled enough.
My second critique - and this is more of a wish - is that C-H never acknowledges the very interesting animal behavior/hairless ape hierarchy stuff that, well, drives the whole business of class and preening consumption anyway. Okay, okay, she's not an animal behaviorist or biologist, but this is such a missed opportunity! Econ in general is not the smartest about this (the myth of homo economicus - i.e. a rational agent - is still the core of things, and behavioral economics - i .e. the acknowledgement that we're systematically irrational, i.e. that we're human beings - is a recent, late 20th century development; when will we take the next step and realize that we're not just human, we're, ahem, animal). But I think it's SO INTERESTING that (a) we're apes and thus (b) we have weird social hierarchies built-in that (c) manifest via economic systems like money, "work" and spending. Man. MAAAN. Someone should write THAT book - and they can call it Animal Spirits!
August 6, 2017
For being just a hair under 200 pages, this book read really slowly. In sum, it felt like the same information over and over again packaged in a slightly different way that got kind of boring quickly.There was a difference in the writing of different chapters. The second chapter felt like an academic journal submission. The nail polish chapter kept making the same point over and over. The best, most engaging chapter was about motherhood. If only the whole book was as good as that one. I would describe this title as meh. Interesting facts along the way but not very interesting to find them. If you read the Stuff White People Like book or blog from a few years back, you already know most of this.
February 17, 2020
It's nothing you haven't heard already if you're a member of the whole foods class, but this is a fascinating sociology of the new elite and the things that signal status in this era. The only thing I thought was missing is that it is singularly focused on a certain subset of the elite (i.e. the liberal elite), but there is a whole group of elite all over the country that do not obsess over farmers markets--so I think this book is probably overly focused on one subset of people and thus loses theoretical accuracy.
January 4, 2022
Fair gehandelt berichtet über die Konsumgesellschaft und wie überwiegend in den USA sich der Status geändert hat. Was sind Statusprodukte? Warum wird im überteuerten „Whole Foods“ eingekauft statt im „Trader Joes“. Warum ist Lulemon so begehrt geworden? Und überhaupt was ist konsumieren und warum tun wir das als Gesellschaft? Die Autorin gewährt auch einen historischen Einblick und Entwicklung in die Konsumgesellschaft.
Allerdings empfand ich den Titel des Buches etwas irreführen. Ich dachte, es würde sich um faire Produkte handeln aber darum ging es inhaltlich eher weniger.
Allerdings empfand ich den Titel des Buches etwas irreführen. Ich dachte, es würde sich um faire Produkte handeln aber darum ging es inhaltlich eher weniger.
October 16, 2017
I’m not clear there’s a deeper message that goes with this book
The basic theme is that traditional conspicuous consumption has given its way to
1. “Inconspicuous consumption” on expensive “moats” from the riff-raff that only the rich can spot each other engaging in, with examples ranging from clear nail polish to Ivy League education and better healthcare.
2. “Conspicuous leisure” the poor cannot not dream of if they are to hold on to their less flexible jobs (example: breastfeeding, hitting the gym at lunchtime)
3. Purchasing the fruits of “conspicuous production,” as best exemplified by the movement toward “authentic products” that cost a fortune to make because they deliver on some parameter the consumer fixates on. For example, specialty coffee (as opposed to still very expensive Starbucks), fixed-gear bikes, vinyl records, mechanical wristwatches etc.
It’s never, not once, 100% clear if the author is bemoaning this change or merely documenting it as the current state of affairs. She does celebrate cities, however, and dedicates a chapter to them as the setting where these patterns of consumption were born.
She also draws a distinction between the old conspicuous consumption, which was entered into by a proudly idle leisure class and the new forms of 21st century conspicuous consumption: the latter is squeezed into the heavy schedule of the “meritocracy” that earned its money through work and is often aimed toward ensuring that the privilege is passed on to its children.
My summary of the book is as follows: the author and her PhD candidates have done TONS of work documenting consumption patterns of the 5 quintiles of the income distribution across time. The book is worth reading just to peruse those tables. I’m happy I bought it, basically. On the other hand, the analysis regarding the three “new” forms of consumption is a bit too facile for my taste. Rich people spend on all this stuff because they can. Period.
Some of them (the author included) also do so because they mistakenly believe their offspring will get to run the world, provided they can send them to Princeton. That last assumption is so naive, you have to laugh. Trust me, I’m Greek. I’ve seen this play out in real time and pretty it ain’t.
So my recommendation is the following: download the stats on which this book was based from the author’s sundry academic papers and reach for the work of Mark Greif. Greif does a ten times better job than Elizabeth Currid-Halkett of describing all these phenomena, for the simple reason that he does not sit on the fence; he truly hates all this baloney, as well he should.
The basic theme is that traditional conspicuous consumption has given its way to
1. “Inconspicuous consumption” on expensive “moats” from the riff-raff that only the rich can spot each other engaging in, with examples ranging from clear nail polish to Ivy League education and better healthcare.
2. “Conspicuous leisure” the poor cannot not dream of if they are to hold on to their less flexible jobs (example: breastfeeding, hitting the gym at lunchtime)
3. Purchasing the fruits of “conspicuous production,” as best exemplified by the movement toward “authentic products” that cost a fortune to make because they deliver on some parameter the consumer fixates on. For example, specialty coffee (as opposed to still very expensive Starbucks), fixed-gear bikes, vinyl records, mechanical wristwatches etc.
It’s never, not once, 100% clear if the author is bemoaning this change or merely documenting it as the current state of affairs. She does celebrate cities, however, and dedicates a chapter to them as the setting where these patterns of consumption were born.
She also draws a distinction between the old conspicuous consumption, which was entered into by a proudly idle leisure class and the new forms of 21st century conspicuous consumption: the latter is squeezed into the heavy schedule of the “meritocracy” that earned its money through work and is often aimed toward ensuring that the privilege is passed on to its children.
My summary of the book is as follows: the author and her PhD candidates have done TONS of work documenting consumption patterns of the 5 quintiles of the income distribution across time. The book is worth reading just to peruse those tables. I’m happy I bought it, basically. On the other hand, the analysis regarding the three “new” forms of consumption is a bit too facile for my taste. Rich people spend on all this stuff because they can. Period.
Some of them (the author included) also do so because they mistakenly believe their offspring will get to run the world, provided they can send them to Princeton. That last assumption is so naive, you have to laugh. Trust me, I’m Greek. I’ve seen this play out in real time and pretty it ain’t.
So my recommendation is the following: download the stats on which this book was based from the author’s sundry academic papers and reach for the work of Mark Greif. Greif does a ten times better job than Elizabeth Currid-Halkett of describing all these phenomena, for the simple reason that he does not sit on the fence; he truly hates all this baloney, as well he should.
August 18, 2018
The members of today’s aspirational class fully embrace their culture omnivore status through many different forms of cultural capital and totemic objects. They pride themselves on going to hole-in-the-wall ethic restaurants instead of Applebee’s, buying local farmers’ eggs, and wearing TOMS shoes because these signifiers of cultural capital reveal social and environmental consciousness, surely acquired in the pages of the New Yorker and at the elite universities they attended.
Building upon Veblen’s Theory of the Leisure Class and his concept of conspicuous consumption, Elizabeth Currid Halkett describes the new ‘elite’ of the 21st century – one tied by a shared set of cultural practices and social norms that praise acquisition and valuing of knowledge over level of income, which results in a shift in the type of good that signals the belonging to that class.
With a “democratization of consumerism and luxury”, already observed by Boorstin (The Image) and Galbraith (The Affluent Society), the ‘impecunious classes’ started to engage excessively in unnecessary spending on socially visible material goods that previously conveyed the image of a certain socioeconomic status, thus forcing the ‘elite’ to move to scarcer goods. Specifically, the new elite – not one of birth right heirs and landowners – “uses knowledge to attain a higher social, environmental, and cultural awareness. The process by which they obtain knowledge and subsequently form values is what reveals social positons. This new group is thus defined, more than anything else, through its shared cultural capital.” The disappearance of a wealthy, idle aristocracy and the rise of an educated, self-made, “meritocratic” elite means that leisure is no longer synonymous with upper class (hence the term “erosion of leisure class”). With the greatest profit making professional sectors being accountancy, finance, law and medicine, leisure time is now inversely proportional to income earned.
It must be noted that the dynamic of conspicuous consumption is not new and can easily be traced back to Victorian and Edwardian periods (see Paul Johnson commentary of Sunday best clothes and sun holidays); capitalism is not responsible for conspicuous consumption, although it is true that the industrial revolution and the following processes of globalization, mass marketing, mass production and sure of knockoffs “opened the floodgates of consumption to the common man”. Hence why “the stuff once associated with a wealthy lifestyle – cars, multiple handbags, closets full of clothes – is seemingly accessible to mainstream society”
The author in a research study observes several macro trends:
(1) the rich and upper middle class spend less as a percentage of their expenditures on conspicuous consumption relative to what the US average spends on the same goods, while the middle class spends more i.e. the rich are spending less on goods that demonstrate wealth with the exception of clothing and accessories;
(2) as a share of their expenditures, the middle class is spending more on conspicuous consumption relative to their income while the very rich and the very poor are spending less;
(3) conspicuous consumption among the rich has been replaced by “inconspicuous consumption” i.e. spending on nonvisible, highly expensive almost cost-prohibitive goods and services that give people more time. This type of pecuniary inconspicuous consumption can be divided into three key symbiotic categories: labour intensive (child care, nannies, gardeners, housekeepers, etc.), experience driven (travel, wine, entertainment, etc.), and “consumption that counts” (investments in the quality of live and wellbeing of oneself and one’s children, from education to health care).
Other notable trends: third and fourth quintiles of income distribution spend more for food (indicating an increase in basic cost of living, because many conspicuous goods are now accessible to every income group the wealthy distinguish themselves not on the conventional items but on disproportionately fancy luxury items (watches, jewellery, boats); a notable expenditure item for lower income families is funerals (as an occasion for display for conspicuous consumption) while the richer one is and the more educated one is the more likely they are to cremate; blacks and Hispanics spends more than whites within the same income and education groups (Kerwin Charles speculates as a result of discrimination that pushes them to demonstrate their social and economic position before being prejudged); people living in bigger cities tend to spend more on conspicuous and inconspicuous goods (partially due to higher cost of living, partially due to wider offer)
October 21, 2019
A theory with rather lofty aspirations!
120 years ago, economist Thorstein Veblen published his “Theory of the Leisure Class”, a critique of conspicuous consumption and the upper classes that organized the social system in a way that enabled them to indulge in leisure activities while the majority of people worked to earn a basic living. The way they lived and the things they consumed led to the term “Veblen” goods, something familiar to all students of economics as products whose demand go up rather than down when their prices go up. Now American academic Elizabeth Currid-Halkett sets out to write a modern day version, updating the behaviours of the modern day elite, termed the aspirational class.
As the real cost of most goods and products has fallen significantly over the past century, she argues that the new elite have replaced conspicuous consumption with inconspicuous consumption, which are still expensive pursuits with no real gains. This is an interesting concept, given the passage of time and changed mores since Veblen’s work, and the fact about the affordability of most forms of material conspicuous consumption to most people today.
Like Veblen, Currid-Halkett extends largely accurate observations of current (and then current) social norms and spending patterns to their impact on broader society. But she then goes ahead and states that this “democratization” of consumer goods, that has provided more goods to the middle class, is to their detriment as they spend more on them and therefore have less to spend on things that will pave the way for inter-generational upward mobility! This by itself sounds like an elitist critique of the masses. But to make matters worse, she then most confoundingly blames her “new elite” for precisely doing the things that she blames others for NOT doing – for spending less on goods and more on things that can lead to a more “fulfilled” life and personal growth, and for usually marrying like-minded people and trying to give their children a head start by educating them earlier and in more rounded ways
But unlike the old elite, who were rightly accused of wanting to perpetuate their dominance and exclude others based on birth and family ties, the author’s own words state that this new elite is grounded in meritocracy (as opposed to birthright), believes in the acquisition of knowledge and culture (as opposed to goods), works longer hours and is less clearly defined by economic positions (socioeconomically heterogeneous).
Hence, unlike Veblen, who made a coherent argument on the negative impact on society of the leisure class, Currid-Halkett’s attempts at a similar portrayal comes across an unnecessary attempt at building a theory out of observations, and then shrilly assigning blame on her “new elite” based on this (non)theory.
The book does have some interesting chapters and observations. The description of changes in the means of signaling status, which have become more subtle and nuanced, is interesting. The observation of how the focus has shifted from conspicuous consumption to “conspicuous production” – think limited edition goods, organic foodstuffs with clear provenance and the like - and “inconspicuous consumption” is also very insightful. And the description of practices (signifying inconspicuous consumption) such as practicing yoga or gymming regularly, drinking almond milk, taking kids to hockey rather than soccer, breast feeding babies longer, and reusing grocery bags every week are markers of status.
But the question remains, what’s the big problem with this? Apparently, these lead to higher inequality, which is the primary grouse. But apart from stating that inequality has gone up as the definition of the leisure class has changed, there is nothing here to suggest a clear cause and effect pattern. To impugn that this is bad for society and they be discouraged from such behavior is simply absurd. As is the author’s judgement that this new elite has “appropriated” certain behaviours and goods (such as those mentioned above).
Sadly, this is a book that may appeal to populists and nativists, as a matter of convenience since they can use these arguments to justify their policies and thoughts.
120 years ago, economist Thorstein Veblen published his “Theory of the Leisure Class”, a critique of conspicuous consumption and the upper classes that organized the social system in a way that enabled them to indulge in leisure activities while the majority of people worked to earn a basic living. The way they lived and the things they consumed led to the term “Veblen” goods, something familiar to all students of economics as products whose demand go up rather than down when their prices go up. Now American academic Elizabeth Currid-Halkett sets out to write a modern day version, updating the behaviours of the modern day elite, termed the aspirational class.
As the real cost of most goods and products has fallen significantly over the past century, she argues that the new elite have replaced conspicuous consumption with inconspicuous consumption, which are still expensive pursuits with no real gains. This is an interesting concept, given the passage of time and changed mores since Veblen’s work, and the fact about the affordability of most forms of material conspicuous consumption to most people today.
Like Veblen, Currid-Halkett extends largely accurate observations of current (and then current) social norms and spending patterns to their impact on broader society. But she then goes ahead and states that this “democratization” of consumer goods, that has provided more goods to the middle class, is to their detriment as they spend more on them and therefore have less to spend on things that will pave the way for inter-generational upward mobility! This by itself sounds like an elitist critique of the masses. But to make matters worse, she then most confoundingly blames her “new elite” for precisely doing the things that she blames others for NOT doing – for spending less on goods and more on things that can lead to a more “fulfilled” life and personal growth, and for usually marrying like-minded people and trying to give their children a head start by educating them earlier and in more rounded ways
But unlike the old elite, who were rightly accused of wanting to perpetuate their dominance and exclude others based on birth and family ties, the author’s own words state that this new elite is grounded in meritocracy (as opposed to birthright), believes in the acquisition of knowledge and culture (as opposed to goods), works longer hours and is less clearly defined by economic positions (socioeconomically heterogeneous).
Hence, unlike Veblen, who made a coherent argument on the negative impact on society of the leisure class, Currid-Halkett’s attempts at a similar portrayal comes across an unnecessary attempt at building a theory out of observations, and then shrilly assigning blame on her “new elite” based on this (non)theory.
The book does have some interesting chapters and observations. The description of changes in the means of signaling status, which have become more subtle and nuanced, is interesting. The observation of how the focus has shifted from conspicuous consumption to “conspicuous production” – think limited edition goods, organic foodstuffs with clear provenance and the like - and “inconspicuous consumption” is also very insightful. And the description of practices (signifying inconspicuous consumption) such as practicing yoga or gymming regularly, drinking almond milk, taking kids to hockey rather than soccer, breast feeding babies longer, and reusing grocery bags every week are markers of status.
But the question remains, what’s the big problem with this? Apparently, these lead to higher inequality, which is the primary grouse. But apart from stating that inequality has gone up as the definition of the leisure class has changed, there is nothing here to suggest a clear cause and effect pattern. To impugn that this is bad for society and they be discouraged from such behavior is simply absurd. As is the author’s judgement that this new elite has “appropriated” certain behaviours and goods (such as those mentioned above).
Sadly, this is a book that may appeal to populists and nativists, as a matter of convenience since they can use these arguments to justify their policies and thoughts.
June 4, 2020
A simple observation but so well observed: affluent people no longer engage in conspicuous consumption, that is, consumption that is observably expensive as with luxury cars and mink stoles. Instead, the affluent now engage in inconspicuous consumption, in a set of subtler practices like shopping at the farmer's market and doing yoga. These are behaviors that don't shout themselves out, but which nevertheless signal a class position all the same. Noblesse oblige has returned.
November 7, 2019
Oh, this made me laugh. I know these people, some of them live in my house. Not sure what we're supposed to do about it though.
February 6, 2018
I picked up the 2017 nonfiction book, "The Sum of Small Things: A Theory of the Aspirational Class," by Elizabeth Currid-Halkett, when I realized that the current publishing world of fiction favors a certain type of story, and literary agents won't touch anything else. As a fiction writer, this is a major problem for me, to say nothing of the impact of the situation on the general public.
So I read "Dream Hoarders: How the American Upper Middle Class Is Leaving Everyone Else in the Dust, Why That Is a Problem, and What To Do About It" (2017) and then found myself reading "The Sum of Small Things."
The data in both of these books is horrifying. Both books deal with the increasing lack of social mobility within the United States: what is causing it, and why. America's class system is becoming more and more rigid and fixed, as the upper-middle class keeps favoring legislation and racist/classist/legacy programs that benefit their own children at the expense of everyone else.
In "Democracy in America," published in 1835, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote, "The surface of American society is covered with a layer of democratic paint, but from time to time one can see the old aristocratic colours breaking through."
"The Sum of Small Things" provides an extensive examination of the current "power elite" that inherited that "old" aristocracy -- and are now the upper-middle class in America. In these pages, the reader can learn more about what they spend their money on, the values they uphold, and the industries they control. It is an incredibly sobering book.
The first three chapters are kind of a slog, and feature a lot of needless repetition that should have been culled. But the content is always excellent, even if the reading is a bit cumbersome.
By Chapter 4, the repetitive, academic language takes a backseat, and the rest of the book reads like other mainstream nonfiction, with a prose style that keeps a good pace and continually provides fresh information.
This book isn't focused on the publishing world, though I felt like I learned a LOT about the publishing world as a result of reading this book. "The Sum of Small Things" examines the worldview, behavior, and history of the modern upper-middle class of America, and I found plenty of information in this book (and in "Dream Hoarders") to help me understand the trends I have noticed in fiction publishing, especially as concerns two genres: Young Adult and upmarket/book club women's fiction.
"The cultural elites (let alone the economic elite) in this country are so removed from the day-to-day hardships of the middle-and lower-income classes, that they may become unable to imagine (let alone solve) the pervasive problems of their poorer fellow citizens." (page 190)
Quotes like that one make this book extremely chilling -- and extremely useful -- to read.
Cultural elites (and perhaps anyone making $112,000.00 or more in yearly income -- which is the figure marking the top fifth/20 percent of the country in 2014) who want to maintain a self-righteous position that America is a pure meritocracy, and that people have what they have because they have "pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps," rather than benefiting from an economic and cultural system that continues to favor a white colonialist power structure, would do well to stay far away from this book. The information and data charts in "The Sum of Small Things" will simply enrage you and make you defensive.
For my part, I don't care where the truth leads me, or how personally damning the data is, I just want access to the truth. In truth, I now know that economically, I am very close to being part of the elite power class in America, a class that is increasingly segregated and discriminatory toward everyone underneath it. Financially, I don't qualify as a member of the upper-middle class, but by virtue of being a white, liberal, college graduate, I certainly belong to this aspirational class.
For anyone who hungers for truth, I highly recommend this book. For anyone involved in a career that requires a high amount of creativity and innovation, I highly recommend this book.
And for anyone who is an aspiring author, with high hopes of getting a literary agent one day, I think you would do well to read this book to understand the class that is in charge of publishing, as well as the class that has the discretionary money to shop in bookstores. (As in: you would do well to understand the worldview of the book-buyers as well as the producers of books.) The current trends in bookselling (and the work of literary agents and marketing teams) are a direct reflection of the disturbing data shared in this book.
Five full stars.
So I read "Dream Hoarders: How the American Upper Middle Class Is Leaving Everyone Else in the Dust, Why That Is a Problem, and What To Do About It" (2017) and then found myself reading "The Sum of Small Things."
The data in both of these books is horrifying. Both books deal with the increasing lack of social mobility within the United States: what is causing it, and why. America's class system is becoming more and more rigid and fixed, as the upper-middle class keeps favoring legislation and racist/classist/legacy programs that benefit their own children at the expense of everyone else.
In "Democracy in America," published in 1835, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote, "The surface of American society is covered with a layer of democratic paint, but from time to time one can see the old aristocratic colours breaking through."
"The Sum of Small Things" provides an extensive examination of the current "power elite" that inherited that "old" aristocracy -- and are now the upper-middle class in America. In these pages, the reader can learn more about what they spend their money on, the values they uphold, and the industries they control. It is an incredibly sobering book.
The first three chapters are kind of a slog, and feature a lot of needless repetition that should have been culled. But the content is always excellent, even if the reading is a bit cumbersome.
By Chapter 4, the repetitive, academic language takes a backseat, and the rest of the book reads like other mainstream nonfiction, with a prose style that keeps a good pace and continually provides fresh information.
This book isn't focused on the publishing world, though I felt like I learned a LOT about the publishing world as a result of reading this book. "The Sum of Small Things" examines the worldview, behavior, and history of the modern upper-middle class of America, and I found plenty of information in this book (and in "Dream Hoarders") to help me understand the trends I have noticed in fiction publishing, especially as concerns two genres: Young Adult and upmarket/book club women's fiction.
"The cultural elites (let alone the economic elite) in this country are so removed from the day-to-day hardships of the middle-and lower-income classes, that they may become unable to imagine (let alone solve) the pervasive problems of their poorer fellow citizens." (page 190)
Quotes like that one make this book extremely chilling -- and extremely useful -- to read.
Cultural elites (and perhaps anyone making $112,000.00 or more in yearly income -- which is the figure marking the top fifth/20 percent of the country in 2014) who want to maintain a self-righteous position that America is a pure meritocracy, and that people have what they have because they have "pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps," rather than benefiting from an economic and cultural system that continues to favor a white colonialist power structure, would do well to stay far away from this book. The information and data charts in "The Sum of Small Things" will simply enrage you and make you defensive.
For my part, I don't care where the truth leads me, or how personally damning the data is, I just want access to the truth. In truth, I now know that economically, I am very close to being part of the elite power class in America, a class that is increasingly segregated and discriminatory toward everyone underneath it. Financially, I don't qualify as a member of the upper-middle class, but by virtue of being a white, liberal, college graduate, I certainly belong to this aspirational class.
For anyone who hungers for truth, I highly recommend this book. For anyone involved in a career that requires a high amount of creativity and innovation, I highly recommend this book.
And for anyone who is an aspiring author, with high hopes of getting a literary agent one day, I think you would do well to read this book to understand the class that is in charge of publishing, as well as the class that has the discretionary money to shop in bookstores. (As in: you would do well to understand the worldview of the book-buyers as well as the producers of books.) The current trends in bookselling (and the work of literary agents and marketing teams) are a direct reflection of the disturbing data shared in this book.
Five full stars.
October 13, 2017
This book describes important phenomena about recent changes in consumer culture and status reproduction, but it is not very tightly argued or documented. The book presents some interesting examples and factoids, but the logic is often overly loose and the evidence typically less than compelling.
The first four chapters of the book are basically a re-hash of Bourdieu, Americanized and brought up to date. It is not as witty as Bobos in Paradise by David Brooks, nor as deep as Money, Morals & Manners by Michele Lamont. I would recommend those two books over the present one. I did learn several interesting facts from the chapter on motherhood and breast feeding, though.
The remainder of the book presents a few good insights and nice examples, but no rigorous conceptualization.
I presume that some, possibly many, readers will be put off by the air permeating the book that the author considers the East and West Coast worth talking about, and the rest of the US rather like backward fly over country.
Shockingly for a book written by an academic and published by Princeton University Press, there are blatant factual mistakes about Ronald Fisher (name misspelled, wrong title) and several instances where the numbers literally did not add up.
The first four chapters of the book are basically a re-hash of Bourdieu, Americanized and brought up to date. It is not as witty as Bobos in Paradise by David Brooks, nor as deep as Money, Morals & Manners by Michele Lamont. I would recommend those two books over the present one. I did learn several interesting facts from the chapter on motherhood and breast feeding, though.
The remainder of the book presents a few good insights and nice examples, but no rigorous conceptualization.
I presume that some, possibly many, readers will be put off by the air permeating the book that the author considers the East and West Coast worth talking about, and the rest of the US rather like backward fly over country.
Shockingly for a book written by an academic and published by Princeton University Press, there are blatant factual mistakes about Ronald Fisher (name misspelled, wrong title) and several instances where the numbers literally did not add up.
September 26, 2023
Interesting book, although the only people that will read it are the so-called aspirational class. So a bit of preaching to the choir here?
May 10, 2021
I liked this book a lot as it confirmed things about the consumer choices of the upwardly mobile that I already read about somewhere else or that I had observed myself.
Here are a few thoughts:
1) It’s already dated. Kale, referenced throughout as a current dietary preference of the elite, has long given way to some other fad. The Essie “ballet slipper” thing (i.e. the fact that wealthy women appear to prefer this particular nail polish) has circulated as a sociological curiosity for decades. My suspicion is that the pandemic also radically upended some of the consumption patterns Currid-Halkett describes. The books reads very 2015 or so (which is probably the time of writing).
2) I wish Currid-Halkett had theorized time use. The way the rich structure their lives is fundamentally different from the rest of society, and, while the author mentions this issue frequently, I would have appreciated a chapter focusing on contracted leisure and the overall life arc of members of the aspirational class.
3) I wish there had been more effort made to distinguish consumption patterns according to race and gender. The chapter on intensive motherhood was splendid, and I think the overall book would have benefitted from similar thematic foci. Instead, my sense is that the author was mostly interested in the spending habits of the top 5%, a demographic which is probably mostly white. The chapter on cities was obvious and—apologies!—unnecessary.
4) Overall, while the book is *about* elites and devotes parts of the final chapter to discussing the negative implications of wealth inequality and cultural division, I would have preferred a stronger social justice lens and less status quo bias throughout. The author sometimes seems too “with” it (maybe because she’s obviously part of that class). For example, she notes that education and healthcare have become more expensive and are therefore only fully accessed by the wealthy. There is no mention that this is a result of policy—it’s a *choice* of that same class to divest state resources from those below. The ethical parameters of this divestment go mostly unexplored.
5) Comma errors, dangling modifiers, and awkward syntax abound. Needs better copy-editing.
Here are a few thoughts:
1) It’s already dated. Kale, referenced throughout as a current dietary preference of the elite, has long given way to some other fad. The Essie “ballet slipper” thing (i.e. the fact that wealthy women appear to prefer this particular nail polish) has circulated as a sociological curiosity for decades. My suspicion is that the pandemic also radically upended some of the consumption patterns Currid-Halkett describes. The books reads very 2015 or so (which is probably the time of writing).
2) I wish Currid-Halkett had theorized time use. The way the rich structure their lives is fundamentally different from the rest of society, and, while the author mentions this issue frequently, I would have appreciated a chapter focusing on contracted leisure and the overall life arc of members of the aspirational class.
3) I wish there had been more effort made to distinguish consumption patterns according to race and gender. The chapter on intensive motherhood was splendid, and I think the overall book would have benefitted from similar thematic foci. Instead, my sense is that the author was mostly interested in the spending habits of the top 5%, a demographic which is probably mostly white. The chapter on cities was obvious and—apologies!—unnecessary.
4) Overall, while the book is *about* elites and devotes parts of the final chapter to discussing the negative implications of wealth inequality and cultural division, I would have preferred a stronger social justice lens and less status quo bias throughout. The author sometimes seems too “with” it (maybe because she’s obviously part of that class). For example, she notes that education and healthcare have become more expensive and are therefore only fully accessed by the wealthy. There is no mention that this is a result of policy—it’s a *choice* of that same class to divest state resources from those below. The ethical parameters of this divestment go mostly unexplored.
5) Comma errors, dangling modifiers, and awkward syntax abound. Needs better copy-editing.
January 1, 2020
I had to read this for a class. Now I am annoyed and may never go into Seattle (as a representative hub for the spiritually impoverished posturing of the so-called aspirational class) again. All I want to do is go to Mass, then to Adoration, and maybe never leave my parish. Ever. I now understand why the abbas and ammas went into the desert in the 3rd and 4th centuries. Blech, blech, blech.
Recommended for masochists looking for a satisfying evening of entertainment. The author holds a chair in Urban and Regional Planning, and it shows in her writing. Despite some interwoven anecdotes and historical context, the text is rather dry and statisticky, emphasis on the icky. This is the least intriguing thing I read in 2019, and now I have to write a brief essay on it.
I think, though, that this portrait of extreme secularism with a patina of social conscience that comprises the life's bent of our current North American cultural elites was not meant to be endearing or edifying from my prof's point of view. Rather, he is asking students to consider how Christians can engage this implicit moral vision and use whatever is positive in it to reorient culture toward eternal truths.
At least I get to return to Perelandra now and get some Lewisy goodness back into me to cleanse the aftertaste of spending so much time in such irritating company. And if you ever see me in a farmers market, clonk me over the head and send me back to Safeway.
Recommended for masochists looking for a satisfying evening of entertainment. The author holds a chair in Urban and Regional Planning, and it shows in her writing. Despite some interwoven anecdotes and historical context, the text is rather dry and statisticky, emphasis on the icky. This is the least intriguing thing I read in 2019, and now I have to write a brief essay on it.
I think, though, that this portrait of extreme secularism with a patina of social conscience that comprises the life's bent of our current North American cultural elites was not meant to be endearing or edifying from my prof's point of view. Rather, he is asking students to consider how Christians can engage this implicit moral vision and use whatever is positive in it to reorient culture toward eternal truths.
At least I get to return to Perelandra now and get some Lewisy goodness back into me to cleanse the aftertaste of spending so much time in such irritating company. And if you ever see me in a farmers market, clonk me over the head and send me back to Safeway.
October 3, 2017
Essential Reading
The aspirational class members make decisions and establish norms that have far more pernicious outcomes for society than did previous leisure-class consumerism. Rather than buying silver spoons and going on long holidays, their investments in education, health, retirement, and parenting ensure the reproduction of status (and often wealth too) for their offspring in a way that no material good can. Through this reproduction of cultural capital and its trappings we see the emergence of what Charles Murray has called the “New Upper Class” and “New Lower Class,” which is not simply an economic divide, but is also a deep cultural divide that has never existed with such distinction as it does today.
I see an emerging body of work from various sources that have common threads running through them pointing to this same conclusion. J.D. Vance, in his memoir Hillbilly Elegy, describes his dawning realization that the other students around him at Yale Law School knew things about how the world worked that he had no idea about. The world in which those other students lived might be located in the United States, but it was a world way from where Vance grew up in the economically depressed Middletown, Ohio.
The author, Elizabeth Currid-Halkett, is a social scientist who has taken a great deal of research, data and anecdotal information and weaved it into a highly readable book meant for the general public. I applaud both the rigorous academic research necessary to formulate credible theories and also the academic who can then take that information and make it digestible for non-academic consumption. In order to talk about the bigger issues, we all have to understand the concepts and have a shared vocabulary to do so.
The book begins with the well known research and writing of Thorstein Veblen around the "conspicuous consumption" of the "leisure class." She then walks us through the evolution of mass production and the democratization of consumer purchasing that removed the status symbols and brands that formerly marked the elite. What has replaced it is "inconspicuous consumption" among those with economic means to have more choices.
Conspicuous consumption among the rich has been replaced by “inconspicuous consumption”—spending on nonvisible, highly expensive goods and services that give people more time and, in the long term, shape life chances. These include education, health care, child care, and labor-intensive services like nannies, gardeners, and housekeepers.
I found the examination of breast-feeding to be particularly illuminating. That particular topic fits within the larger scope of "intensive mothering," which is also part of this "inconspicuous consumption" that I have seen evolve in my lifetime. Without mandated paid leave benefits for new mothers, women in better paying professional careers with companies that voluntarily provide those benefits have options in their parenting choices that other women simply don't have.
As the journalist Hannah Rosen calculates, “Let’s say a baby feeds seven times a day and then a couple more times at night. That’s nine times for about a half hour each, which adds up to more than half of a working day, every day, for at least six months. This is why, when people say that breast-feeding is ‘free,’ I want to hit them with a two-by-four. It’s only free if a woman’s time is worth nothing.
Those with the economic means to have choices, are choosing to invest in the future of their children. That leaves behind those families without the economic means to have choices, and creates this widening gap of cultural differences that carry over from one generation to the next.
Having economic means to make a wider range of choices has also given rise to what Currid-Halkett terms "conspicuous production." From organic vegetables at farmers markets, to the artisanal farm to cup production of Intelligentsia Coffee, cultural capital is created in the choices we make. Where Starbucks made its fortune in bringing luxury to the masses, Intelligentsia makes its (smaller) fortune proclaiming its rarity. What drives the economic model in paying more for a product or service is how that feeds our personal narrative about who we are, what our priorities are, and how we see the world. Consumers’ desire for these less ostentatious forms of consumption is crucial to conspicuous production’s success.
There are themes in this book that intersect with those of Dream Hoarders by Brookings Senior Fellow Richard V. Reeves. That's why I see this emerging body of work around cultural and economic issues as providing various threads that woven together give us a clearer picture of where we are and potentially where we are headed. There was even a reference in this book to The Primates of Park Avenue, which also looks at many of these same issues from a very different narrative perspective. Awareness is the first step in having a productive discussion about wealth gaps, education gaps, the lack of true social mobility and what seems to be the shrinking of America's middle class.
This book is a good read. It will likely make you more self aware about your own lifestyle choices, along with heightening your awareness about the choices of those around you. It's a fascinating look at the times we are living in.
The aspirational class members make decisions and establish norms that have far more pernicious outcomes for society than did previous leisure-class consumerism. Rather than buying silver spoons and going on long holidays, their investments in education, health, retirement, and parenting ensure the reproduction of status (and often wealth too) for their offspring in a way that no material good can. Through this reproduction of cultural capital and its trappings we see the emergence of what Charles Murray has called the “New Upper Class” and “New Lower Class,” which is not simply an economic divide, but is also a deep cultural divide that has never existed with such distinction as it does today.
I see an emerging body of work from various sources that have common threads running through them pointing to this same conclusion. J.D. Vance, in his memoir Hillbilly Elegy, describes his dawning realization that the other students around him at Yale Law School knew things about how the world worked that he had no idea about. The world in which those other students lived might be located in the United States, but it was a world way from where Vance grew up in the economically depressed Middletown, Ohio.
The author, Elizabeth Currid-Halkett, is a social scientist who has taken a great deal of research, data and anecdotal information and weaved it into a highly readable book meant for the general public. I applaud both the rigorous academic research necessary to formulate credible theories and also the academic who can then take that information and make it digestible for non-academic consumption. In order to talk about the bigger issues, we all have to understand the concepts and have a shared vocabulary to do so.
The book begins with the well known research and writing of Thorstein Veblen around the "conspicuous consumption" of the "leisure class." She then walks us through the evolution of mass production and the democratization of consumer purchasing that removed the status symbols and brands that formerly marked the elite. What has replaced it is "inconspicuous consumption" among those with economic means to have more choices.
Conspicuous consumption among the rich has been replaced by “inconspicuous consumption”—spending on nonvisible, highly expensive goods and services that give people more time and, in the long term, shape life chances. These include education, health care, child care, and labor-intensive services like nannies, gardeners, and housekeepers.
I found the examination of breast-feeding to be particularly illuminating. That particular topic fits within the larger scope of "intensive mothering," which is also part of this "inconspicuous consumption" that I have seen evolve in my lifetime. Without mandated paid leave benefits for new mothers, women in better paying professional careers with companies that voluntarily provide those benefits have options in their parenting choices that other women simply don't have.
As the journalist Hannah Rosen calculates, “Let’s say a baby feeds seven times a day and then a couple more times at night. That’s nine times for about a half hour each, which adds up to more than half of a working day, every day, for at least six months. This is why, when people say that breast-feeding is ‘free,’ I want to hit them with a two-by-four. It’s only free if a woman’s time is worth nothing.
Those with the economic means to have choices, are choosing to invest in the future of their children. That leaves behind those families without the economic means to have choices, and creates this widening gap of cultural differences that carry over from one generation to the next.
Having economic means to make a wider range of choices has also given rise to what Currid-Halkett terms "conspicuous production." From organic vegetables at farmers markets, to the artisanal farm to cup production of Intelligentsia Coffee, cultural capital is created in the choices we make. Where Starbucks made its fortune in bringing luxury to the masses, Intelligentsia makes its (smaller) fortune proclaiming its rarity. What drives the economic model in paying more for a product or service is how that feeds our personal narrative about who we are, what our priorities are, and how we see the world. Consumers’ desire for these less ostentatious forms of consumption is crucial to conspicuous production’s success.
There are themes in this book that intersect with those of Dream Hoarders by Brookings Senior Fellow Richard V. Reeves. That's why I see this emerging body of work around cultural and economic issues as providing various threads that woven together give us a clearer picture of where we are and potentially where we are headed. There was even a reference in this book to The Primates of Park Avenue, which also looks at many of these same issues from a very different narrative perspective. Awareness is the first step in having a productive discussion about wealth gaps, education gaps, the lack of true social mobility and what seems to be the shrinking of America's middle class.
This book is a good read. It will likely make you more self aware about your own lifestyle choices, along with heightening your awareness about the choices of those around you. It's a fascinating look at the times we are living in.
July 17, 2021
I've never had a book rip me, my insecurities, and my way of life so violently apart.
Brilliant reading for anyone who wants to be reminded that they're just a social climbing slave to the Slings and Arrows of Consumerism^TM.
Brilliant reading for anyone who wants to be reminded that they're just a social climbing slave to the Slings and Arrows of Consumerism^TM.
February 25, 2018
Language has also always been a means to show social position—like manners, it takes time to acquire and practice particular word choices and turns of phrase. To quote the late social critic Paul Fussell, “Regardless of the money you’ve inherited … the place you live, the way you look … the time you eat dinner, the stuff you buy from mail-order catalogs … your social class is still most clearly visible when you say things.”6 Fussell goes on to discuss the “pseudoelegant style” of the middle class: their discomfort in calling a toilet a toilet (rather, it is a restroom/lavatory/powder room), a drunk a drunk (he is someone “with alcohol problems”), or to comfortably use swear words or the word “death” (rather, it is “passing away” or “taken to Jesus”). Conversely, they are self-conscious using words that the upper classes use with reckless abandon: “divine,” “outstanding,” “super,” “tedious,” “tiresome.” In their place, the middle class uses those umbrella words of banality: “nice” and “boring.”
Taste and style of life are passed on from generation to generation and learned at a young age or through membership in a particular group. If one is not brought up within an elite habitus, one remains an outsider. This explains why we see the true upper class of Britain poor as paupers but status rich, and why Tony Soprano, with his big New Jersey suburban house, would never be invited to attend a Met gala or to serve on the board of the New York Public Library
the most desirable places to live often have more desirable types of consumption. Big, “alpha” cities like New York, London, Hong Kong, San Francisco, Los Angeles, or Paris all offer many iterations of premium consumption options: a perfect cappuccino, a meal at a good restaurant, or a designer dress. And the local influence—good curry houses in London, great pizza in Chicago, baguettes in Paris—is what makes these cities distinct in what they produce alongside the endless string of cafés and boutiques. The concentration of different people, and lots of them, is what enables the curry houses to flourish—so many people skilled to produce a particular good and so many wanting to consume it. People themselves also become local goods that others want to be around, and their specificity and uniqueness in different cities make certain places desirable in different ways. We want to be around people with whom we can share ideas, culture, and stories, people who read the same books and watch the same movies. We are ultimately social animals and connect around a series of norms and shared identities
Increasingly, as cities are sites of intellectual production (finance, technology, the arts) rather than industrial production, they are also the nexus where the very skilled end up meeting each other and having kids, thus becoming the ultimate power couples and producing children who grow up to become the same
Smart people want to be around other smart people not just for work, but also for friendships and romantic relationships, and over time that results in highly stratified hyper-educated affluent places where, as the economist Tyler Cowen remarked, “Money and talent become clustered in high-powered, two-earner families determined to do everything possible to advance the interests of their children.
Taste and style of life are passed on from generation to generation and learned at a young age or through membership in a particular group. If one is not brought up within an elite habitus, one remains an outsider. This explains why we see the true upper class of Britain poor as paupers but status rich, and why Tony Soprano, with his big New Jersey suburban house, would never be invited to attend a Met gala or to serve on the board of the New York Public Library
the most desirable places to live often have more desirable types of consumption. Big, “alpha” cities like New York, London, Hong Kong, San Francisco, Los Angeles, or Paris all offer many iterations of premium consumption options: a perfect cappuccino, a meal at a good restaurant, or a designer dress. And the local influence—good curry houses in London, great pizza in Chicago, baguettes in Paris—is what makes these cities distinct in what they produce alongside the endless string of cafés and boutiques. The concentration of different people, and lots of them, is what enables the curry houses to flourish—so many people skilled to produce a particular good and so many wanting to consume it. People themselves also become local goods that others want to be around, and their specificity and uniqueness in different cities make certain places desirable in different ways. We want to be around people with whom we can share ideas, culture, and stories, people who read the same books and watch the same movies. We are ultimately social animals and connect around a series of norms and shared identities
Increasingly, as cities are sites of intellectual production (finance, technology, the arts) rather than industrial production, they are also the nexus where the very skilled end up meeting each other and having kids, thus becoming the ultimate power couples and producing children who grow up to become the same
Smart people want to be around other smart people not just for work, but also for friendships and romantic relationships, and over time that results in highly stratified hyper-educated affluent places where, as the economist Tyler Cowen remarked, “Money and talent become clustered in high-powered, two-earner families determined to do everything possible to advance the interests of their children.
Read
January 18, 2019This is an academic, university press book. Once past the first few chapters laying out the theory and research, I found Currid-Halkett's book to be utterly fascinating. This is a look at how class has changed in the US, especially post-recession and how there's no longer an easily identifiable upper, middle, and lower class because consumption of indiscreet goods has decreased while indiscreet goods and activities have increased. Why is it that ballet slippers Essie -- retail $8 -- is THE nail polish color among the social elites? Why is it that those with significant upward mobility no longer keep deep savings accounts but instead invest in health care, education for their children, and retirement funds? What does shopping with a canvas tote signify and does organic food REALLY make a difference or is it a sign of a certain social class and education level? I found the look at different cities vs. more rural areas utterly fascinating.
I found the chapters on education and on parenting especially curious. At times, I nodded along, feeling like maybe I was part of this aspirational class (I have many of the markers!) but the more that added up, the more I realized I'm NOT part of that because I don't have the social or cultural cues on everything the way it's presented here.
This is economic and social theory for more average readers -- once you get past the first few chapters. It's given me a lot to chew on, and I found reading this immediately after Anthony Bourdain's MEDIUM RAW especially noteworthy, since both talk about Alice Waters and her restaurant and mentality toward food, urban gardening, and the locavore movement in very, very different ways.
Lots to chew on that I'll be thinking about for a while.
The audiobook was nothing to write home about and at times was very monotone. But this seemed to also pick up once past the first few heavy chapters and onto the more juicy content. I think that might be par for the course for a book like this. I didn't hate it, but it wasn't amazing either.
I found the chapters on education and on parenting especially curious. At times, I nodded along, feeling like maybe I was part of this aspirational class (I have many of the markers!) but the more that added up, the more I realized I'm NOT part of that because I don't have the social or cultural cues on everything the way it's presented here.
This is economic and social theory for more average readers -- once you get past the first few chapters. It's given me a lot to chew on, and I found reading this immediately after Anthony Bourdain's MEDIUM RAW especially noteworthy, since both talk about Alice Waters and her restaurant and mentality toward food, urban gardening, and the locavore movement in very, very different ways.
Lots to chew on that I'll be thinking about for a while.
The audiobook was nothing to write home about and at times was very monotone. But this seemed to also pick up once past the first few heavy chapters and onto the more juicy content. I think that might be par for the course for a book like this. I didn't hate it, but it wasn't amazing either.
February 14, 2018
I gave this 3/5 stars, even though almost everything in this review is negative, because this is one of those books that got under my skin and which I keep thinking about in relation to stuff in the day to day. So, yes, I want you to read it if only because I want to argue about it with people.
That said, almost every page had me mentally raising objections, and what-about-Xs. On the whole I a) wasn't entirely sure what case Dr. Currid-Halkett was making and b) am almost sure that it wasn't made convincingly. Several sections feel like endless recitations of numbers which cried out for some decent data visualization. Some of the sections feel only tenuously connected to each other. Etc.
As far as I could tell, the most interesting argument that was being made was twofold. First, that changes in the values and spending priorities of the upper class recently (like, since the 1960s) more firmly entrench inequality in "western" societies. And second, that those changed values cause the "elite" to harshly judge (on moral terms) those who do not share their spending priorities.
It is structured as a response (or extension of?) Veblen's "Theory of the Leisure Class;" the idea being that current upper class society isn't really a "leisure" class anymore, but an "aspirational" one. That where, at the end of the 1800's you signaled membership in the upper crust by conspicuously consuming stuff, and spending your time of pointless activities, now you signal status by caring about the right things (the environment, fair labor practices, etc.) and investing in your children (breast feeding, touch-feely parenting, expensive private education, enriching activities to help them get into the right schools, etc.) and that these changes more firmly entrench generational wealth and social inequality.
I hope to come back to this review and revise, as I have *lots* of thoughts in response, but too many to say anything coherent quickly.
That said, almost every page had me mentally raising objections, and what-about-Xs. On the whole I a) wasn't entirely sure what case Dr. Currid-Halkett was making and b) am almost sure that it wasn't made convincingly. Several sections feel like endless recitations of numbers which cried out for some decent data visualization. Some of the sections feel only tenuously connected to each other. Etc.
As far as I could tell, the most interesting argument that was being made was twofold. First, that changes in the values and spending priorities of the upper class recently (like, since the 1960s) more firmly entrench inequality in "western" societies. And second, that those changed values cause the "elite" to harshly judge (on moral terms) those who do not share their spending priorities.
It is structured as a response (or extension of?) Veblen's "Theory of the Leisure Class;" the idea being that current upper class society isn't really a "leisure" class anymore, but an "aspirational" one. That where, at the end of the 1800's you signaled membership in the upper crust by conspicuously consuming stuff, and spending your time of pointless activities, now you signal status by caring about the right things (the environment, fair labor practices, etc.) and investing in your children (breast feeding, touch-feely parenting, expensive private education, enriching activities to help them get into the right schools, etc.) and that these changes more firmly entrench generational wealth and social inequality.
I hope to come back to this review and revise, as I have *lots* of thoughts in response, but too many to say anything coherent quickly.
October 5, 2021
I read this purely for fun, enjoyed it, and presently have no formulated opinion about Currid-Halkett's theory of the aspirational class other than it seems intuitively correct to me. I may think harder about this later.
Aspirational class productivity in leisure spills over into all facets of life. Some members are never able to just relax. Even watching television—Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, or HBO's latest epic—is about being a part of the cultural zeitgeist. How else can an individual seem informed (and intellectually productive) at a dinner party if he's not spending free time doing things that make him seem smart and culturally aware?
Aspirational class productivity in leisure spills over into all facets of life. Some members are never able to just relax. Even watching television—Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, or HBO's latest epic—is about being a part of the cultural zeitgeist. How else can an individual seem informed (and intellectually productive) at a dinner party if he's not spending free time doing things that make him seem smart and culturally aware?
October 21, 2017
“Rather than simply conspicuous consumption, the dominant cultural elite prefers to engage in conspicuous production, conspicuous leisure, and inconspicuous consumption, all of which produce much greater class stratification effects than acquisition of material goods.”
May 14, 2019
I heard about this book on Hidden Brain and was intrigued. I found parts of it were maybe a little too academic, if that makes sense, but on the whole, she makes some interesting points on what distinguishes the middle class from the aspirational class from the wealthy elites.
September 19, 2020
2.5 or 3 🤷🏼♀️
November 28, 2020
Similar to David Brooks’s Bobos In Paradise a generation ago, Currid-Halkett profiles today’s bourgeoise, which she coins the aspirational class. What defines them?
How do they behave that’s unique to their time?
Currid-Halkett is less interested in anthropology than she is in what I suppose is a Marxist-style class critique. Specifically, she is concerned that this class is out-competing Westerners who are not part of this class, excluding them from material improvement:
She brands this type of focused self-improvement as “concerted cultivation.” Currid-Halkett finds a way to put a negative spin on numerous behaviors by assuming them to be scarce, from fitness (“The opportunity to appropriate one’s time for exercise is a sign of social position and luxury”), to health-minded consumption (“Whole Foods allows us to consume our way to a particular type of persona.”), to education. Frequently, Currid-Halkett’s displeasure with “concerted cultivation” reads as her own stress over keeping-up-with-the-Jonses than a real belief that these behaviors are truly limited to a cultural elite (“What we all feel now is the constant pressure to know enough, at all times, lest we be revealed as culturally illiterate”).
Similar to many books, there isn’t much to offer in terms of what we should do to “fix” this. Finishing the book, I’m not sure what Currid-Halkett would recommend we change. But it was fun to see so many of my and my friends’ behaviors catalogued. A friendly reminder of how much of a product of our cultures we all are.
Today’s aspirational class prizes ideas, cultural and social awareness, and the acquisition of knowledge, informing ideas and making choices, ranging from their ideas to the type of sliced bread they purchase at the grocery store. In each of these decisions, big and small, they strive to feel informed and legitimate in their belief that they have made the right and reasonable decision based on facts, whether regarding the merit of organic food, breast feeding, or electric cars. In sort, unlike Veblen’s Leisure Class, or David Brooks’s Bobos, this new elite is not defined by economics. Rather, the aspirational class is formed through a collective consciousness upheld by specific values and acquired knowledge, and the rarefied social and cultural processes necessary to acquire them.
How do they behave that’s unique to their time?
The aspirational class is motivated by self-confident values, and is actively choosing its way of life through an extensive process of information gathering, informing opinions and values, some of which involve money, but many of which rest on social capital instead. They distance themselves from conventional material goods, not because they are uncomfortable with wealth (bobos), but rather because material goods are no longer a clear signal of social position, or a good conduit to reveal cultural capital or knowledge.
Currid-Halkett is less interested in anthropology than she is in what I suppose is a Marxist-style class critique. Specifically, she is concerned that this class is out-competing Westerners who are not part of this class, excluding them from material improvement:
The things the wealthy aspirational class actually spend money on (education, health care, child care, not silver spoons, fancy cars, or fine china) are the very things that build social capital and create class boundaries across class generations that are almost impossible to overcome with material goods.
She brands this type of focused self-improvement as “concerted cultivation.” Currid-Halkett finds a way to put a negative spin on numerous behaviors by assuming them to be scarce, from fitness (“The opportunity to appropriate one’s time for exercise is a sign of social position and luxury”), to health-minded consumption (“Whole Foods allows us to consume our way to a particular type of persona.”), to education. Frequently, Currid-Halkett’s displeasure with “concerted cultivation” reads as her own stress over keeping-up-with-the-Jonses than a real belief that these behaviors are truly limited to a cultural elite (“What we all feel now is the constant pressure to know enough, at all times, lest we be revealed as culturally illiterate”).
Similar to many books, there isn’t much to offer in terms of what we should do to “fix” this. Finishing the book, I’m not sure what Currid-Halkett would recommend we change. But it was fun to see so many of my and my friends’ behaviors catalogued. A friendly reminder of how much of a product of our cultures we all are.
September 3, 2023
Economic theory indicates that people buy goods because they satisfy some kind of need. The goods are priced in accordance to the utility that they provide. The economist Veblen came along and pointed out that the upper classes spend on goods that have no obvious utility but to indicate that they can afford to acquire them (see: pineapples). Thus, their utility is that they show off status. Currid-Halkett traces how the conditions of late-stage capitalism and mass production of cheaper goods have led to a shift from conspicuous to inconspicuous consumption. As a result, the "aspirational class" has followed suit, spending their money and time on things that primarily serve to affirm their class.
Who is the aspirational class? Here's a short quiz:
- Did you go to college?
- Do you identify with the term "knowledge worker"?
- Do you work a lot?
- Do you spend your leisure time working out, reading, seeing live performances, watching buzzworthy television?
- Do you like trying new foods?
- Do you own athleisure?
- Do you try to be a "conscious consumer"?
- Do you have a sense of what takes are "good" or "bad"? (e.g. you have some kind of stance on saying the N slur or on the merits of going to therapy)
- Do you perform counter culture behaviors? (e.g. you meditate, you thrift your clothes, you follow indie artists, you choose to forego income and hustle for things like work life balance or personal fulfillment)
If you answered yes to at least a few of those, welcome. You're a part of the aspirational class. We value cultural capital, and we know that knowledge and experiences help confer that. We also tend to look down on people who aren't performing these behaviors. (Don't you know you shouldn't buy fast fashion? Don't you know you can't say __ anymore? Don't you know who Logan Roy is?)
I thought a couple of these findings were surprising. I thought picky eaters were people who grew up with privilege and who weren't told to clean their plate or not eat. I thought most people get sated with stuff and shift towards seeking experiences as they age. I thought watching zeitgeist-y stuff was about creating community and low stakes conversation topics with strangers in a society that has become worse at small talk. (There's cool data in this book and a strong appendix of sources if you're a skeptic and want to see for yourself. You can see clear patterns emerge between income level and % of income spent on these categories.)
Why does any of this matter? To quote Charlotte York, we want to believe we live in a classless society, but we don't. We tend to believe that if we're not in the 0.1% of earners, that we are the suffering proletariat. Our aesthetic choices, hobbies, appetites, and neighborhoods betray us, and the cumulative sum of small things show how out of touch we are with the masses.
Who is the aspirational class? Here's a short quiz:
- Did you go to college?
- Do you identify with the term "knowledge worker"?
- Do you work a lot?
- Do you spend your leisure time working out, reading, seeing live performances, watching buzzworthy television?
- Do you like trying new foods?
- Do you own athleisure?
- Do you try to be a "conscious consumer"?
- Do you have a sense of what takes are "good" or "bad"? (e.g. you have some kind of stance on saying the N slur or on the merits of going to therapy)
- Do you perform counter culture behaviors? (e.g. you meditate, you thrift your clothes, you follow indie artists, you choose to forego income and hustle for things like work life balance or personal fulfillment)
If you answered yes to at least a few of those, welcome. You're a part of the aspirational class. We value cultural capital, and we know that knowledge and experiences help confer that. We also tend to look down on people who aren't performing these behaviors. (Don't you know you shouldn't buy fast fashion? Don't you know you can't say __ anymore? Don't you know who Logan Roy is?)
I thought a couple of these findings were surprising. I thought picky eaters were people who grew up with privilege and who weren't told to clean their plate or not eat. I thought most people get sated with stuff and shift towards seeking experiences as they age. I thought watching zeitgeist-y stuff was about creating community and low stakes conversation topics with strangers in a society that has become worse at small talk. (There's cool data in this book and a strong appendix of sources if you're a skeptic and want to see for yourself. You can see clear patterns emerge between income level and % of income spent on these categories.)
Why does any of this matter? To quote Charlotte York, we want to believe we live in a classless society, but we don't. We tend to believe that if we're not in the 0.1% of earners, that we are the suffering proletariat. Our aesthetic choices, hobbies, appetites, and neighborhoods betray us, and the cumulative sum of small things show how out of touch we are with the masses.
December 2, 2019
Very interesting facts. Basically I think there’re a few things that I gained:
- there will always be a class distinction
- lower class will aspire to at least look like the upper class
- higher class will aspire to keep differentiating themselves from the lower class
- the definition of class keeps changing, and sometimes the person who decides what is class is the upper class
- the divide becomes harder for lower class because the game is rigged
At the end it kinda reminds me of “The Sneetches” by Dr Seuss.
- I am not sure whether there is a take home message, as it seems like there would require a change of not accepting class (but then again, this seems not possible), as the lower class will find it difficult, even given monetary aid... as the new “aspiration class” adds so much more to the definition of class that it is hard even for the upper class to keep up with themselves.
- and the lower classes are busy diverting resources to conspicuous consumption to keep up with the Jones that reminds myself to consider whether my purchases are merely for status.
In the end, like the sneetches, we should be able to live together...
- there will always be a class distinction
- lower class will aspire to at least look like the upper class
- higher class will aspire to keep differentiating themselves from the lower class
- the definition of class keeps changing, and sometimes the person who decides what is class is the upper class
- the divide becomes harder for lower class because the game is rigged
At the end it kinda reminds me of “The Sneetches” by Dr Seuss.
- I am not sure whether there is a take home message, as it seems like there would require a change of not accepting class (but then again, this seems not possible), as the lower class will find it difficult, even given monetary aid... as the new “aspiration class” adds so much more to the definition of class that it is hard even for the upper class to keep up with themselves.
- and the lower classes are busy diverting resources to conspicuous consumption to keep up with the Jones that reminds myself to consider whether my purchases are merely for status.
In the end, like the sneetches, we should be able to live together...
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 18, 2025
I liked the depth of analysis on how how consumption differentiates us along class as status lines. It’s cool to read about the aspirational class and to intuitively know the type of people to whom she refers. MY values and modes of consumption have been shaped by aspirational class values, even though i’m outside of the income and geographic boundaries that these types inhabited at the time the book was written. That in and of itself is cool because it exemplifies how status is emulated across all types of people and spaces.
My only critiques are:
1. I think it was somewhat long-winded in explaining the behaviors of the aspirational class. I am willing to admit though that these concepts are much more familiar and visible in 2025 than in 2017, so that may just be a factor of the book aging (and being right)
2. The use of statistics didn’t always enrich my understanding, and I think it’s because the numbers were presented textually most of the time. I personally like it when the numbers stay in the table and the text provides some interpretation, but j also get that the conventions in her field aren’t that.
My only critiques are:
1. I think it was somewhat long-winded in explaining the behaviors of the aspirational class. I am willing to admit though that these concepts are much more familiar and visible in 2025 than in 2017, so that may just be a factor of the book aging (and being right)
2. The use of statistics didn’t always enrich my understanding, and I think it’s because the numbers were presented textually most of the time. I personally like it when the numbers stay in the table and the text provides some interpretation, but j also get that the conventions in her field aren’t that.
August 22, 2018
I’m a bit in two minds about this book.
It’s about the changing nature of wealth and status, and I find it’s main thesis - that it’s now less about conspicuous consumption and more about what you know, where you go, and other social codes - quite obvious, and not new. After all, this was the theme for many of Evelyn Waugh's novels in the 1930s and 40s. Maybe what has been true in the UK for a long time is now becoming the norm in the US?
What was more interesting to me was the growth of ‘conspicuous leisure’. This can be seen as leisure activities that you learn from and enhance you - classes, fitness goals and so on, ideally with exclusivity - and this is a very interesting observation. The book is also very good about the competitiveness in parenting (but again, in the UK the idea of private school as a social network to serve the rich all their lives is nothing new), and why cities are the playgrounds of the rich.
So while I found the main thesis not very revelatory, these point alone make it a very valuable read.
It’s about the changing nature of wealth and status, and I find it’s main thesis - that it’s now less about conspicuous consumption and more about what you know, where you go, and other social codes - quite obvious, and not new. After all, this was the theme for many of Evelyn Waugh's novels in the 1930s and 40s. Maybe what has been true in the UK for a long time is now becoming the norm in the US?
What was more interesting to me was the growth of ‘conspicuous leisure’. This can be seen as leisure activities that you learn from and enhance you - classes, fitness goals and so on, ideally with exclusivity - and this is a very interesting observation. The book is also very good about the competitiveness in parenting (but again, in the UK the idea of private school as a social network to serve the rich all their lives is nothing new), and why cities are the playgrounds of the rich.
So while I found the main thesis not very revelatory, these point alone make it a very valuable read.
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