14 May 2009
03 May 2009
Slum chic
Fashion, as we have seen any number of times knows no bounds, shows no shame - see my previous iNeedle post Is this the most tasteless fashion shoot ever? And just when I thought the answer must surely be no, along comes America's Next Top Model's recent Carmen Miranda fashion shoot in a São Paulo favela - which, we are reliably informed by the deeply informed Mr Jay, “are neighborhoods that were originally built by the poor.” To which La Tyra herself later adds, they're “kind of like the hood”. Basically, what we're shown here is stylishly-lit snippets of grinding global poverty as a backdrop for the frivolous excesses of the rich world. Haute couture, low taste. (The clip is about eight minutes long but you get the picture within one.)
19 April 2009
Curing the luxury sickness
I just came across this short piece by Tanya Gold reprinted in the Guardian Weekly's My Two Cents column - "How I was cured of a taste for luxury".
I will never stay in a luxury hotel again. It's been crawling up on me, this disgust with the world of self-flushing toilets, floors so shiny you can squeeze your spots in them, and tall, thin people wearing Ralph Lauren. (The clothes, not the person).I am middle-class, and I was born in suburbia, so it was natural that I would embrace the deluxe lifestyle, as soon as I got credit. It's the inadequacy. I was too fat for fashion, so I used to wear Claridge's instead. I used to sit in the bar, sipping a Diet Coke, wondering if I would ever make it into Tatler. But so slowly that nausea set in.
Expensive hotels are designed for rich people to feel loved. You pay, and they wrap you in a bathrobe that says, "You are not a psychopath, and we care about you." But actually, if you look deeper, if you open your eyes from your soporific, luxurious slumber, you will realise that the people who are waiting on you hate your guts. With good reason.
The staff of these hotels are usually educated people from poor countries who spend all day waiting on people who are much stupider - and nastier - than them. As a result, they - entirely naturally - become bitter and are turned into status police. Their job is to assess if you belong there or not.
Aged 25, I sat down to dinner in a five-star hotel on Park Lane. The bread waiter came over. That was his title. Bread waiter. I asked for two rolls but he only threw one down. Then he went to the other side of the room, and stared at me, and when I had finished the roll, he came and threw another one in my face. This was hate with rolls. This was annihilation. Then the wine waiter came. "Did you enjoy your bread, madam?" he asked. They had actually discussed it.
This hate has followed me around the luxury hotels of Europe. In Paris, I asked for a skirt to be ironed. (The hotel was too posh to have ironing boards in cupboards. I had no choice. I was only following orders.) The maid came to return it. I answered the door in my bathrobe. She guessed I was in flagrante delicto - I looked purple and slightly angry - and she said, "Enjoy yourself, madam." She didn't mean it. She meant, "Kill yourself, madam." And then I realised. These people hate us. It was not a luxury hotel in Paris. It was more like North Korea. My stupid lover was spending €700 a night so we could stay in North Korea and be hated by maids with ironing boards.
Claridge's actually hires people to stand at the entrance and stare at you. It is a bit like the Mexican border. Go and out stare at them, and call it sport. If your clothes are cheap, and your expression is desperate, they are emboldened and they snarl. "Don't come in here," their eyes speak. "Get out, loser. We can smell that you are from Wimbledon. You stink of cheap Chinese takeaway and despair." If you are wearing Ralph Lauren and tax evade for fun, however, they bow until their noses touch the floor.
I just came back from a week in Dubai. Dubai is an enormous, glossy, heartless reinterpretation of Little Chef and it broke me. I stayed in a palace that felt like a live-action copy of Elle magazine. The man who carried my bags had a law degree. The beautiful waitresses had changed their given names to stripper names - Candy, Sandy, Mandy - because they were pronouncable by rich idiots. When two Filipino men came to clean my bath, I was ashamed. When they bowed I wanted to slap myself in the face.
And I remembered that the happiest I have been on holidays in recent years is when I stayed in a five-quid-a-night hostel in Jerusalem with a big hole in the wall covered by a rug. Because I actually went out and I saw Jerusalem. When you stay in a luxury hotel, the luxury is the destination. You are essentially visiting a bathroom. You don't see anything except the luxury. And the luxury is the same wherever you go. In this, five-star hotels are like McDonald's - everywhere the product is identical.
People don't go to deluxe hotels because they want to see the world. They go to them because they don't want to see the world. All they see are the smiling faces of their slaves and things that sort of resemble the pictures they drooled over in It's All Yours magazine. And they get a self-flushing toilet. (You don't even have to look at your own waste. You don't even have to look at your own soul.) Luxury holidays are not only morally indefensible and psychologically sick, they are boring. It isn't travel. It's narcissism with towels - and I think I have finally outgrown it.
13 March 2009
11 March 2009
Poor rich?
"The richest people in the world have gotten poorer, just like the rest of us. This year the world's billionaires have an average net worth of $3 billion, down 23% in 12 months. The world now has 793 billionaires, down from 1,125 a year ago." (Source: Forbes Magazine)
11 January 2009
Social immobility in (not so) Great Britain
This item of non-news from today's London Times (12 Jan 2009):
"A child’s chances of success still depend largely on the background and earnings of his or her parents despite the billions poured into education in recent years, according to an independent report today. The Social Mobility Commission, reporting the day before a long-awaited white paper on the subject, finds that social class accounts for much of the gap in attainment between higher and lower achievers. It is evident from the early years that the gap widens as children get older. Increased spending on education has disproportionately favoured the middle classes, the report says. Last year only 35 per cent of the poorest pupils obtained five or more good-grade GCSEs, compared with 63 per cent of better off children. While the proportion of poorer children getting degrees has risen by just 3 per cent, the increase among those from wealthier backgrounds is 26 per cent."
29 December 2008
Black as the "new" white?
Oh, the short-term memory of global capital! In a strange (if not, perverse) twist, it seems that blackness is to be exploited, to be resignified, as the latest marker of super-elite status. In the blink of an avaricious eye, centuries of negative cultural framing and demonizing appear to be eclipsed - forgotten. And by an industry which otherwise so consistently privileges and promotes "whiteness" as the idealized signification of luxury and prestige (see Thurlow & Jaworski, 2009, p. 10-11; also Richard Dyer's well-know critique of "white").
Is this, I wonder, where the voracious culture industries are headed in their search for even newer capitals under the Obama-nation? A shameless aestheticization and commodification of blackness? Is this what they think social justice looks like? In the same way, perhaps, that HIV/AIDs is commercialized by (Product) Red's "call to action"? Or in the way that Bumble & Bumble have recently co-opted the language of political action for their latest range of hair styling products? Strike a blow for global health: shop with a red Amex card!
Anyway, speaking of credit cards, and on the theme of blackness, here are just two recent examples of what I mean.
Visa's latest gimmick is the "carbon graphite" Black Card . We are told that this is "not just another piece of plastic" but rather "the world's most prestigous" credit card which promises "limited membership, 24-hour concierge service, exclusive rewards program, luxury gifts". (Thanks, Jamie Moshin, for bringing this to my attention.) The whole idea of the "concierge" is such a telling one - especially given the racialized and classed histories of the waiters and the waited-upon. Having said which, some things don't change; true to the racialized histories of class inequality, this card is, we are reassured, "not for everyone".
Visa's online sales pitch: "For those who demand only the best of what life has to offer, the exclusive Visa Black Card is for you. The Black Card is not just another piece of plastic. Made with carbon graphite, it is the ultimate buying tool.The Black Card is not for everyone. In fact, it is available to only 1% of U.S. Residents to ensure the highest caliber of personal service is provided to every Cardmember."
Then there's this unconscious (unconscionable?) little cultural production, an advertising campaign for Cunard's Queen Mary II, Queen Elizabeth II and Queen Victoria cruises:
What historically myopic - no doubt, White - person thought this one up? Did no-one at the high-paying ad agency notice the tasteless irony in their sloganized "Somewhere between contintents you feel something stirring and realize it's your soul"? Over the last few years, I have gathered together a pretty sizeable collection of luxury tourism adverts (most of them here online). Be rest assured, however, this one from Cunard is the only one - the only one - which features people of colour as the luxury travellers as opposed to the servants. In fact, one of the biggest deceits in many luxury tourism ads is that even the servants are White - as in this one here:
Yeh, right?! So, the White body too becomes resignified as an up-to-the-minute marker of prestige. The service is so luxurious, we are told, even the servants are White! The human geographies of cruise liners tell a very different story - these ships are what Ross Klein calls "sweatshops at sea" staffed almost entirely by the global poor. (See his book Cruise Ship Blues or his latest book Cruise Ship Squeeze: The New Pirates of the Seven Seas).
Oh, and if the online marketing for Visa's Black Card is to be believed, even the concierge's teeth are nice and white - that would be the same concierge service that is "designed to improve quality of life" and enables members "to focus on what is truly important" - er, like luxury shopping and stock-market trading?
10 December 2008
A class act: The lines that divide
Two of my favourite students (yes, we do have them), Tiffany and Miracle, helped to prepare these materials for display. I'll be posting some of the other students' work shortly.
08 December 2008
Praying for time
It's been too long since my last post - a lot of life, a fair bit of love and a shitload of work. There's a backlog of iNeedle thoughts which need posting, though - not least of which, ones prompted by the economic non-crisis which so many people are evidently enjoying right now. "Do I buy a big yacht or a huge yacht?" In the meantime, however, here's a gentle place-holder. It's been a while since I posted some music - and I'm sure not everyone might share my taste in George Michael. Whatever. He's one of my youthful and not-so-youthful idols. I just had reason to remember his lyrical critique in Praying for Time from the Listen Without Prejudice album.
These are the days of the open hand
They will not be the last
Look around now
These are the days of the beggars and the choosers
This is the year of the hungry man
Whose place is in the past
Hand in hand with ignorance
And legitimate excuses
The rich declare themselves poor
And most of us are not sure
If we have too much
But we’ll take our chances
Because God’s stopped keeping score
I guess somewhere along the way
He must have let us all out to play
Turned his back and all Gods children
Crept out the back door
And its hard to love, there’s so much tohate
Hanging on to hope
When there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say it’s much, much too late
Well maybe we should all be praying for time
These are the days of the empty hand
Oh you hold on to what you can
And charity is a coat you wear twice a year
This is the year of the guilty man
Your television takes a stand
And you find that what was over there is over here
So you scream from behind your door
Say what’s mine is mine and not yours
I may have too much but I’ll take my chances
Because God’s stopped keeping score
And you cling to the things they sold you
Did you cover your eyes when they told you
That he can’t come back
Because he has no children to come back for
Its hard to love there’s so much to hate
Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say its much too late
So maybe we should all be praying for time02 October 2008
Sleeping in Ethiopia
The background: In Ethiopa the average household income is US$180 a year (source: UNICEF). The foreground: In Addis Ababa, the cheapest available rooms at the Hilton and the Sheraton cost US$275 and US300 a night.
From the Hilton: Welcome to this spacious 33m²/355sq.ft room with a balcony offering a mountain, garden or city view. The bright and airy room, decorated with original artwork, has 1 king bed and a desk. Special touches may include daily newspaper, mineral water, chocolates, flowers and fruit.
From the Sheraton: Discover what luxury really means. We offer 293 deluxe guest rooms. For added convenience, each room features a private safe and 24-hour room service.
Back to the background: Elsewhere in Addis Ababa ...Fax Machine Air-Conditioned Room In-Room Safe Private Balcony 24-Hour Room Service Hairdryer DVD/CD Player Maid Service Data Port Room with Sitting Area Butler Service Desk Room Service Wake-up Service
