Ostentation, all in nuance

What would you choose between a luxury handbag and a subscription to New Yorker ? In his work The Sum of Small ThingsElizabeth Currid-Halkett notes that elites today distinguish themselves by a multitude of unostentatious and inexpensive choices, such as reading a newspaper or the color of their nail polish, rather than a luxury item. These choices, which may seem secondary, in reality guarantee social advancement or the maintenance of a dominant position. The upper class of the XXI^e century, which the author calls the “aspirational class” (aspirational class), invests more in its cultural capital than in its economic capital. Reading The Sum of Small Things would therefore make you lean towards subscribing to the New Yorker ; but let us not be mistaken, this will not be enough.

Social hierarchy and consumption

Thorstein Veblen, who inspired the author, shows how the nobility and the upper middle class of the late 19th century XIX^e century flaunt their social success by ostentatiously consuming goods and leisure activities. The term describes a wasteful and relatively visible expenditure: wasteful as proof of one’s status that makes such expenditure possible, and visible as a means of social recognition of that status.

To increase their prestige, each individual then seeks to imitate, within the limits of their means, the signs of success of the members of the richest class. This phenomenon is not new: from ancient Rome, archaeology reveals decorative elements of the richest houses imperfectly emulated in the dwellings of the lower classes. In return, the democratization of interior decorations led the elites of the time to use increasingly rare materials and techniques to distinguish themselves (Wallace-Hadrill, 1990).

This historical perspective highlights the timeless nature of the ostentatious behavior of the different classes in a society. The lower classes emulate the practices of the upper classes, who do not hesitate to resort to outbidding to distinguish themselves and maintain their dominant place in the social hierarchy. Economic growth tends to amplify this phenomenon (Baudrillard 1970, 1972).

Elizabeth Currid-Halkett nevertheless underlines the specificity of contemporary society compared to that of ancient Rome or the end of the XIX^e century. Today, material goods are accessible to all strata of society; on the other hand, access to status is mainly a function of the acquisition of knowledge, diplomas and skills. Cultural capital is no longer a simple leisure activity of the elites, but the cornerstone of their success:

Although their symbolic position is sometimes manifested through (the possession of) material goods, most of the time (the elites) reveal their social class through cultural signifiers that reveal their knowledge and their value system—dinner debates around an opinion piece (…) and trips to the farmers’ market. (p. 18)

The status choices of the upper classes also help maintain dominance for their descendants. Today, children of the aspirational class inherit a considerable investment in what the author calls “non-ostentatious” goods: values, opinions, dispositions, and education that signal their social position and gain access to the best opportunities. These goods convey social privilege as much as a noble title or material goods did in Thorstein Veblen’s day.

The new avatars of distinction

Elizabeth Currid-Halkett draws on field observations and consumer spending surveys conducted by the Bureau of Labor Statistics to paint a picture of changes in consumption in the United States. Using these data, she shows in particular that the share of the budget of the richest households devoted to conspicuous consumption (cars, furniture, clothing, etc.) is less than that of households with more modest incomes. In relative terms, the richest are therefore not those who devote the most effort to distinguishing themselves through their consumption of material goods.

The wealthiest households, on the other hand, spend much more than others on investments that, although not ostentatious, are far from being disconnected from the logic of status distinction. A first category of expenditure allows class differences to be created and reinforced at a lower cost, such as purchases at the organic market, the color of nail polish or reading the New Yorker. These expenses are not the only distinctive ones, but go hand in hand with costly investments allowing a better quality of life or offering future opportunities (babysitting, vacations, education, health, retirement).

Most readers of the New Yorker and of New York Times have probably studied at top-ranked universities with tuition fees over $40,000, and spend their time with people of similar education with whom they exchange opinions and information. (p. 60)

The difference in non-conspicuous spending by income class tends to increase over time. Since the Great Recession (2007-2013), people with the highest incomes have increased their non-conspicuous consumption and decreased their spending on conspicuous goods, while the opposite trend is observed for the middle classes. Education is the expenditure most representative of this divergence, and also the one most likely to consolidate the social success of the aspirational class. Since 1996, education spending by the richest has increased by 300%, while there is almost no increase for the other income deciles. The price of these non-conspicuous goods also increases over time (tuition fees increased by 80% between 2003 and 2013). These observations show that the strategies of the upper classes tend to become increasingly subtle, but no less costly: ostentation gives way to distinction.

Giving meaning to your consumption

The aspirational class not only wants to achieve and maintain a certain social status, it also wants to feel that it deserves its place. The elites’ efforts to legitimize themselves are not new; what has changed is probably the new moral order in which they are embedded. The experience of motherhood is a good example: far from the days of wet nurses, breastfeeding is now the norm in the wealthiest and most educated circles. Parents in the aspirational classes spend considerable time and a significant portion of their resources on giving their offspring the best opportunities:

Whether it is through breastfeeding to increase the IQ baby, or art classes at age three, (…) parents in the aspirational class view their children as developmental projects and initiate structured, informed parenting practices to maximize their children’s future success. (p. 97)

The choices and leisure activities of the aspirational class are now enlightened and productive. It is no longer the ostentatious waste of time of Thorstein Veblen, but a conscious investment in the hope of future returns. It is indeed difficult to question the merits of breastfeeding, learning a musical instrument, shopping locally or going to the gym. The fruits of these practices are therefore naturally felt to be deserved.

These choices of the rich are, however, the result of an economic and social freedom permitted by their position in society, and a capitalist production system which provides them with the products necessary for their distinction. Elizabeth Currid-Halkett thus gives the example of the process of selling high-end coffees (specialty coffees) linking coffee growers to sellers and consumers. The result is a “conspicuous production,” which makes the purchase an experience in which the production process and the place of purchase matter just as much, if not more, than the product. While the ethical dimension of this type of purchase is present, it is inseparable from the individual’s desire to construct a well-defined social identity.

A new theory of consumption?

Elizabeth Currid-Halkett’s book helps us to grasp the metamorphoses of consumption in XXI^e century. Combining statistical and qualitative methods, it updates the tools with which it is possible to grasp the way in which the upper classes distinguish themselves and reproduce their privileges.

Several points can be highlighted in this analysis, however. The category of goods called non-ostentatious is made up of goods that could just as easily have been called ostentatious, and the dividing line is far from obvious. The author’s decisions are not always justified and could notably affect the statistical results. The data used also do not seem to allow the analysis of a central spending category for the upper classes: savings. Finally, the aspirational class covers very different populations, from the hipster to the founder of a start-up to the university professor. However, the distinctive signs of these populations are not all equally effective in reproducing or acquiring privileges. The possibility of affording a high-end education or health insurance is very likely correlated with shopping at the organic market, but this requires above all a certain economic capital.

We can also regret the absence of a more relational analysis of consumption processes. The strength of Veblen’s theory was to design a consumption system where the choices of different classes respond to each other. Pierre Bourdieu, mentioned a few times, and Jean Baudrillard, in turn offer valuable elements for understanding the interdependence of contemporary consumption practices. The Sum of Small Things focuses primarily on the upper classes, something Elizabeth Currid-Halkett acknowledges. The other part of the story, the consumption of people with lower incomes, is largely absent. A deeper dialogue between sociology and economics would allow for a better understanding of consumption dynamics; this book takes a first step in this direction, let’s hope it continues.