let us make affluenza unhip

Paris, 8 February 2023 in Writing

For several years, when I was a young solicitor, my dream was to own a luxury handbag named after a glamorous princess. In my eyes, this purchase would mean that I had made it in Paris. But it soon became clear that I would have to overcome two big hurdles before I could become the proud owner of such a bag. I would have to make enough to be able to afford its astronomical price tag, of course. But hard work alone would not suffice: only a handful of customers could hope to put their names down on the waiting list for the iconic handbag.

In my eyes, this purchase would mean that I had made it in Paris.

Unless you knew people in high places or moved in the right circles yourself, you had to strike a personal relationship with the exclusive designer’s sales staff. I can still remember the day when I finally saw my name inside the Parisian boutique’s fat black order book.

Several months elapsed before I got the phone call. It was the eve of my birthday and my bag was ready. I was 35 and, as far as I was concerned, my social status had just changed. My heart would swell with pride and a feeling of success, as I walked the streets of Paris clutching my bag. On two occasions, someone attempted to steal it, but the thieves were more interested in the contents of the bag than the handbag itself. Clearly, they hadn’t done their research, or they would have known that the bag was of much greater value than its contents. To me, this illustrates our multi-speed world, where what is of value to some can go unnoticed by others.

However, it wasn’t long before I understood that ownership of a princess handbag was a fleeting pleasure. By the next season, the luxury bag designer had launched a new exciting line. Consumerism is a fever that keeps spreading, there are always new bags to covet. Even then, it struck me that a life spent working and acquiring new handbags was unlikely to allow me to find myself and focus on what really mattered.

Even then, it struck me that a life spent working and acquiring new handbags was unlikely to allow me to find myself and focus on what really mattered.

I started to look over the fence, beyond the quiet luxury of exclusive designer shops, and realised that more bags would not heal my affluenza. What I did, instead, was picture a cow grazing on grass. A cow with a bell around her neck like those of French and Swiss Alpine lore. And I saw that my acquisitiveness had cost the life of one of these beautiful cows. Or, more probably, of a calf unlikely to have ever set eyes on green grass. I began to research the provenance of the leather used by the designer and the living conditions of the animals killed for leather. I did not find out much.

What information I was able to gather focused on the designer’s selection of fine leathers, not on the living creatures behind the products. But who are the animals whose lives we sacrifice to the whims of fashion? Where do these handbags-in-the-making live and in what conditions? The invisible fate of the animals contrasted with the way the company extolled their “carefully selected”, “peerless” and “flawless” leathers, and “long tradition of excellence”. It wasn’t long before I had a reckoning. What could possibly have made me think that a handbag could be the measure of my success?

What could possibly have made me think that a handbag could be the measure of my success?

The craft and know-how of French tanneries and leather workers have been a source of pride for generations. But do we really need to carry on killing animals to clothe ourselves and feel good about how we look? How did we come to associate our purchases with our well-being? It is time to rethink the way we live. We will no longer be able to close your eyes to what goes on behind the scenes, once we have seen the ugly reality. The success of the 21st century hinges on our ability to open our hearts to compassion and our eyes to global interdependencies. To cut through corporate claptrap on the quality of fine leather goods and refuse to set our hearts on a handbag just because it is named after a glamour princess, especially one who met a tragic fate.

It is time to rethink the way we live.

There may have been a time when the fine craftsmanship of luxury goods could justify spending your savings on them. When these goods were so well-made that they lasted for generations, and you could proudly pass them down to your heirs at the end of your life. Nowadays, however, such purchases are more a matter of buying into an aspirational brand in order to flaunt your class credentials. And for these luxury brands, which have become huge global profit centres, the goal is essentially to spread this consumerist fever to the greatest possible number, in order to fill the pockets of their investors.

What is to be done when luxury handbag sales are exploding and animal rights remain a non-issue for so many? How can we convey the message that high-end shopping is not the path to happiness – that while beautiful things may flatter our aesthetic sensibilities, owning expensive stuff will not make us happy? Today I believe that true achievement and beauty lie within and that our century will only achieve a genuine sense of belonging when we learn to live in harmony with all living things.

How can we convey the message that high-end shopping is not the path to happiness ?

Now, when I go shopping, what I look for has changed. If I could go back in time, I would look for a cruelty-free handbag that was made to last. I would research the company behind the product, because I would want to know that it looks after all its stakeholders and that its business model is not just about profit increases. These are the criteria for my choices today. Does this make me a dreamer? An out of touch Bobo? I don’t think so.

I would research the company behind the product, because I would want to know that it looks after all its stakeholders.

And what should I do about that princess bag? I haven’t used it for years. I can no longer identify with the social persona that it represents. Have I lost interest in femininity? Aesthetic pleasure? No, that’s not what this is about. I simply want no part with fashion choices associated with a value system that is not mine. The notion that when they dream of success, young women aspire to the fate of an unhappy princess is patriarchal nonsense and needs to be challenged once and for all.

I simply want no part with fashion choices associated with a value system that is not mine.

And yet, at the same time, this handbag has been a big part of my life for nearly thirty years. When I was young solicitor, I would stuff it full of files, even though their size was wrong. I also used to carry all my beauty essentials in that bag, and everywhere I went, it went – oh the adventures we had together… There is no other object that I lugged around so reliably before mobile phones came along. How could I fail to acknowledge its sentimental value, then? How could I not get it out every once in a while, if only in posthumous homage to the animal who lost its life for it? And so here I am, still on the fence, not yet ready to drag it out of its hiding place. Yet I may well end up donating it to a charity, the proceeds of the sale could finance a worthy cause.

Let us come together and reject these 20th century symbols of success. If we can make conspicuous consumption and affluenza look distasteful, this will help us to put the preservation of life at the centre of all our decisions, and to discover that choosing to live more abstemiously is the way to happiness. And let those who can afford to buy luxury brands remember that they have a duty to lead the way and pressure these corporations to take a hard look at their practices, for the benefit of all their stakeholders. If this is too much to ask, then let us at least make their products unhip.