less stuff = more joy

Yesterday, I asked my brother-sin-law to tell me more about his new girlfriend. A few minutes into the conversation, I asked how she likes to spend her time and her money. I explained that the answer to both questions usually tells me a great deal about one's values, because time is something one never gets back and money is usually valuable to the spender.

I then explained that my free time and money tend to go to travel, photography, and good food/ drink. In short, I look for experiences, rather than things. Still, I have far more stuff than I need, despite routinely donating as much as possible to keep my stuff in check. Although we tend to use a great deal of used and second-hand items (especially with all the baby gear), I'm wondering if we can pull off the hundred things or less at this point. Maybe it's time for another housecleaning, and a serious conversation about what we can get rid of in order to make space for the more important experiences in life.

But Will It Make You Happy?
By STEPHANIE ROSENBLOOM
Published: August 7, 2010

SHE had so much.

A two-bedroom apartment. Two cars. Enough wedding china to serve two dozen people.

Yet Tammy Strobel wasn’t happy. Working as a project manager with an investment management firm in Davis, Calif., and making about $40,000 a year, she was, as she put it, caught in the “work-spend treadmill.”

So one day she stepped off.

Inspired by books and blog entries about living simply, Ms. Strobel and her husband, Logan Smith, both 31, began donating some of their belongings to charity. As the months passed, out went stacks of sweaters, shoes, books, pots and pans, even the television after a trial separation during which it was relegated to a closet. Eventually, they got rid of their cars, too. Emboldened by a Web site that challenges consumers to live with just 100 personal items, Ms. Strobel winnowed down her wardrobe and toiletries to precisely that number.

Her mother called her crazy.

Today, three years after Ms. Strobel and Mr. Smith began downsizing, they live in Portland, Ore., in a spare, 400-square-foot studio with a nice-sized kitchen. Mr. Smith is completing a doctorate in physiology; Ms. Strobel happily works from home as a Web designer and freelance writer. She owns four plates, three pairs of shoes and two pots. With Mr. Smith in his final weeks of school, Ms. Strobel’s income of about $24,000 a year covers their bills. They are still car-free but have bikes. One other thing they no longer have: $30,000 of debt.

Ms. Strobel’s mother is impressed. Now the couple have money to travel and to contribute to the education funds of nieces and nephews. And because their debt is paid off, Ms. Strobel works fewer hours, giving her time to be outdoors, and to volunteer, which she does about four hours a week for a nonprofit outreach program called Living Yoga.

“The idea that you need to go bigger to be happy is false,” she says. “I really believe that the acquisition of material goods doesn’t bring about happiness.”

While Ms. Strobel and her husband overhauled their spending habits before the recession, legions of other consumers have since had to reconsider their own lifestyles, bringing a major shift in the nation’s consumption patterns.

“We’re moving from a conspicuous consumption — which is ‘buy without regard’ — to a calculated consumption,” says Marshal Cohen, an analyst at the NPD Group, the retailing research and consulting firm.

Amid weak job and housing markets, consumers are saving more and spending less than they have in decades, and industry professionals expect that trend to continue. Consumers saved 6.4 percent of their after-tax income in June, according to a new government report. Before the recession, the rate was 1 to 2 percent for many years. In June, consumer spending and personal incomes were essentially flat compared with May, suggesting that the American economy, as dependent as it is on shoppers opening their wallets and purses, isn’t likely to rebound anytime soon.

On the bright side, the practices that consumers have adopted in response to the economic crisis ultimately could — as a raft of new research suggests — make them happier. New studies of consumption and happiness show, for instance, that people are happier when they spend money on experiences instead of material objects, when they relish what they plan to buy long before they buy it, and when they stop trying to outdo the Joneses.

If consumers end up sticking with their newfound spending habits, some tactics that retailers and marketers began deploying during the recession could become lasting business strategies. Among those strategies are proffering merchandise that makes being at home more entertaining and trying to make consumers feel special by giving them access to exclusive events and more personal customer service.

While the current round of stinginess may simply be a response to the economic downturn, some analysts say consumers may also be permanently adjusting their spending based on what they’ve discovered about what truly makes them happy or fulfilled.

“This actually is a topic that hasn’t been researched very much until recently,” says Elizabeth W. Dunn, an associate professor in the psychology department at the University of British Columbia, who is at the forefront of research on consumption and happiness. “There’s massive literature on income and happiness. It’s amazing how little there is on how to spend your money.”

CONSPICUOUS consumption has been an object of fascination going back at least as far as 1899, when the economist Thorstein Veblen published “The Theory of the Leisure Class,” a book that analyzed, in part, how people spent their money in order to demonstrate their social status.

And it’s been a truism for eons that extra cash always makes life a little easier. Studies over the last few decades have shown that money, up to a certain point, makes people happier because it lets them meet basic needs. The latest round of research is, for lack of a better term, all about emotional efficiency: how to reap the most happiness for your dollar.

So just where does happiness reside for consumers? Scholars and researchers haven’t determined whether Armani will put a bigger smile on your face than Dolce & Gabbana. But they have found that our types of purchases, their size and frequency, and even the timing of the spending all affect long-term happiness.

One major finding is that spending money for an experience — concert tickets, French lessons, sushi-rolling classes, a hotel room in Monaco — produces longer-lasting satisfaction than spending money on plain old stuff.

“ ‘It’s better to go on a vacation than buy a new couch’ is basically the idea,” says Professor Dunn, summing up research by two fellow psychologists, Leaf Van Boven and Thomas Gilovich. Her own take on the subject is in a paper she wrote with colleagues at Harvard and the University of Virginia: “If Money Doesn’t Make You Happy Then You Probably Aren’t Spending It Right.” (The Journal of Consumer Psychology plans to publish it in a coming issue.)

Thomas DeLeire, an associate professor of public affairs, population, health and economics at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, recently published research examining nine major categories of consumption. He discovered that the only category to be positively related to happiness was leisure: vacations, entertainment, sports and equipment like golf clubs and fishing poles.

Using data from a study by the National Institute on Aging, Professor DeLeire compared the happiness derived from different levels of spending to the happiness people get from being married. (Studies have shown that marriage increases happiness.)

“A $20,000 increase in spending on leisure was roughly equivalent to the happiness boost one gets from marriage,” he said, adding that spending on leisure activities appeared to make people less lonely and increased their interactions with others.

According to retailers and analysts, consumers have gravitated more toward experiences than possessions over the last couple of years, opting to use their extra cash for nights at home with family, watching movies and playing games — or for “staycations” in the backyard. Many retailing professionals think this is not a fad, but rather “the new normal.”

“I think many of these changes are permanent changes,” says Jennifer Black, president of the retailing research company Jennifer Black & Associates and a member of the Governor’s Council of Economic Advisors in Oregon. “I think people are realizing they don’t need what they had. They’re more interested in creating memories.”

She largely attributes this to baby boomers’ continuing concerns about the job market and their ability to send their children to college. While they will still spend, they will spend less, she said, having reset their priorities.

While it is unlikely that most consumers will downsize as much as Ms. Strobel did, many have been, well, happily surprised by the pleasures of living a little more simply. The Boston Consulting Group said in a June report that recession anxiety had prompted a “back-to-basics movement,” with things like home and family increasing in importance over the last two years, while things like luxury and status have declined.

“There’s been an emotional rebirth connected to acquiring things that’s really come out of this recession,” says Wendy Liebmann, chief executive of WSL Strategic Retail, a marketing consulting firm that works with manufacturers and retailers. “We hear people talking about the desire not to lose that — that connection, the moment, the family, the experience.”

Current research suggests that, unlike consumption of material goods, spending on leisure and services typically strengthens social bonds, which in turn helps amplify happiness. (Academics are already in broad agreement that there is a strong correlation between the quality of people’s relationships and their happiness; hence, anything that promotes stronger social bonds has a good chance of making us feel all warm and fuzzy.)

And the creation of complex, sophisticated relationships is a rare thing in the world. As Professor Dunn and her colleagues Daniel T. Gilbert and Timothy D. Wilson point out in their forthcoming paper, only termites, naked mole rats and certain insects like ants and bees construct social networks as complex as those of human beings. In that elite little club, humans are the only ones who shop.

AT the height of the recession in 2008, Wal-Mart Stores realized that consumers were “cocooning” — vacationing in their yards, eating more dinners at home, organizing family game nights. So it responded by grouping items in its stores that would turn any den into an at-home movie theater or transform a backyard into a slice of the Catskills. Wal-Mart wasn’t just selling barbecues and board games. It was selling experiences.

“We spend a lot of time listening to our customers,” says Amy Lester, a spokeswoman for Wal-Mart, “and know that they have a set amount to spend and need to juggle to meet that amount.”

One reason that paying for experiences gives us longer-lasting happiness is that we can reminisce about them, researchers say. That’s true for even the most middling of experiences. That trip to Rome during which you waited in endless lines, broke your camera and argued with your spouse will typically be airbrushed with “rosy recollection,” says Sonja Lyubomirsky, a psychology professor at the University of California, Riverside.

Professor Lyubomirsky has a grant from the National Institute of Mental Health to conduct research on the possibility of permanently increasing happiness. “Trips aren’t all perfect,” she notes, “but we remember them as perfect.”

Another reason that scholars contend that experiences provide a bigger pop than things is that they can’t be absorbed in one gulp — it takes more time to adapt to them and engage with them than it does to put on a new leather jacket or turn on that shiny flat-screen TV.

“We buy a new house, we get accustomed to it,” says Professor Lyubomirsky, who studies what psychologists call “hedonic adaptation,” a phenomenon in which people quickly become used to changes, great or terrible, in order to maintain a stable level of happiness.

Over time, that means the buzz from a new purchase is pushed toward the emotional norm.

“We stop getting pleasure from it,” she says.

And then, of course, we buy new things.

When Ed Diener, a psychology professor at the University of Illinois and a former president of the International Positive Psychology Association — which promotes the study of what lets people lead fulfilling lives — was house-hunting with his wife, they saw several homes with features they liked.

But unlike couples who choose a house because of its open floor plan, fancy kitchens, great light, or spacious bedrooms, Professor Diener arrived at his decision after considering hedonic-adaptation research.

“One home was close to hiking trails, making going hiking very easy,” he said in an e-mail. “Thinking about the research, I argued that the hiking trails could be a factor contributing to our happiness, and we should worry less about things like how pretty the kitchen floor is or whether the sinks are fancy. We bought the home near the hiking trail and it has been great, and we haven’t tired of this feature because we take a walk four or five days a week.”

Scholars have discovered that one way consumers combat hedonic adaptation is to buy many small pleasures instead of one big one. Instead of a new Jaguar, Professor Lyubomirsky advises, buy a massage once a week, have lots of fresh flowers delivered and make phone calls to friends in Europe. Instead of a two-week long vacation, take a few three-day weekends.

“We do adapt to the little things,” she says, “but because there’s so many, it will take longer.”

BEFORE credit cards and cellphones enabled consumers to have almost anything they wanted at any time, the experience of shopping was richer, says Ms. Liebmann of WSL Strategic Retail. “You saved for it, you anticipated it,” she says.

In other words, waiting for something and working hard to get it made it feel more valuable and more stimulating.

In fact, scholars have found that anticipation increases happiness. Considering buying an iPad? You might want to think about it as long as possible before taking one home. Likewise about a Caribbean escape: you’ll get more pleasure if you book a flight in advance than if you book it at the last minute.

Once upon a time, with roots that go back to medieval marketplaces featuring stalls that functioned as stores, shopping offered a way to connect socially, as Ms. Liebmann and others have pointed out. But over the last decade, retailing came to be about one thing: unbridled acquisition, epitomized by big-box stores where the mantra was “stack ’em high and let ’em fly” and online transactions that required no social interaction at all — you didn’t even have to leave your home.

The recession, however, may force retailers to become reacquainted with shopping’s historical roots.

“I think there’s a real opportunity in retail to be able to romance the experience again,” says Ms. Liebmann. “Retailers are going to have to work very hard to create that emotional feeling again. And it can’t just be ‘Here’s another thing to buy.’ It has to have a real sense of experience to it.”

Industry professionals say they have difficulty identifying any retailer that is managing to do this well today, with one notable exception: Apple, which offers an interactive retail experience, including classes.

Marie Driscoll, head of the retailing group at Standard & Poor’s, says chains have to adapt to new consumer preferences by offering better service, special events and access to designers. Analysts at the Boston Consulting Group advise that companies offer more affordable indulgences, like video games that provide an at-home workout for far less than the cost of a gym membership.

Mr. Cohen of the NPD Group says some companies are doing this. Best Buy is promoting its Geek Squad, promising shoppers before they buy that complicated electronic thingamajig that its employees will hold their hands through the installation process and beyond.

“Nowadays with the economic climate, customers definitely are going for a quality experience,” says Nick DeVita, a home entertainment adviser with the Geek Squad. “If they’re going to spend their money, they want to make sure it’s for the right thing, the right service.”

With competition for consumer dollars fiercer than it’s been in decades, retailers have had to make the shopping experience more compelling. Mr. Cohen says automakers are offering 30-day test drives, while some clothing stores are promising free personal shoppers. Malls are providing day care while parents shop. Even on the Web, retailers are connecting on customers on Facebook, Twitter and Foursquare, hoping to win their loyalty by offering discounts and invitations to special events.

FOR the last four years, Roko Belic, a Los Angeles filmmaker, has been traveling the world making a documentary called “Happy.” Since beginning work on the film, he has moved to a beach in Malibu from his house in the San Francisco suburbs.

San Francisco was nice, but he couldn’t surf there.

“I moved to a trailer park,” says Mr. Belic, “which is the first real community that I’ve lived in in my life.” Now he surfs three or four times a week. “It definitely has made me happier,” he says. “The things we are trained to think make us happy, like having a new car every couple of years and buying the latest fashions, don’t make us happy.”

Mr. Belic says his documentary shows that “the one single trait that’s common among every single person who is happy is strong relationships.”

Buying luxury goods, conversely, tends to be an endless cycle of one-upmanship, in which the neighbors have a fancy new car and — bingo! — now you want one, too, scholars say. A study published in June in Psychological Science by Ms. Dunn and others found that wealth interfered with people’s ability to savor positive emotions and experiences, because having an embarrassment of riches reduced the ability to reap enjoyment from life’s smaller everyday pleasures, like eating a chocolate bar.

Alternatively, spending money on an event, like camping or a wine tasting with friends, leaves people less likely to compare their experiences with those of others — and, therefore, happier.

Of course, some fashion lovers beg to differ. For many people, clothes will never be more than utilitarian. But for a certain segment of the population, clothes are an art form, a means of self-expression, a way for families to pass down memories through generations. For them, studies concluding that people eventually stop deriving pleasure from material things don’t ring true.

“No way,” says Hayley Corwick, who writes the popular fashion blog Madison Avenue Spy. “I could pull out things from my closet that I bought when I was 17 that I still love.”

She rejects the idea that happiness has to be an either-or proposition. Some days, you want a trip, she says; other days, you want a Tom Ford handbag.

MS. STROBEL — our heroine who moved into the 400-square foot apartment — is now an advocate of simple living, writing in her spare time about her own life choices at Rowdykittens.com.

“My lifestyle now would not be possible if I still had a huge two-bedroom apartment filled to the gills with stuff, two cars, and 30 grand in debt,” she says.

“Give away some of your stuff,” she advises. “See how it feels.”

quotable

"They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold; and I deem them mad because they think my days have a price." -Kahlil Gibran, (1883-1931) Lebanese American artist, poet, and writer. Gibran is considered to be the third most widely read poet, behind Shakespeare and Lao-Tzu, in history.

consuming kids: the commercialization of childhood

Consider this -- prior to 1981, children's spending rose 4% each year. Since Reagan's deregulation, children's spending has risen by 35% yearly. That's no accident. The United States is the only industrialized nation in the world that does not place limits on advertising and marketing to children.

Marketers have created entirely new segments of consumers (tweens, and other age-compressed categories) using sophisticated techniques (the nag factor) to ensure cradle-to-grave mindshare. The trouble is, kids (especially young children) don't have the ability to differentiate between advertising and the truth.

It's bigger than sugary cereal and soda in schools. It is more sophisticated than simple product placement or a toy in a Happy Meal. It is Webkins, an online environment that is only accessible after a child or parent purchases a $15 toy with an access code. And movies whose sole purpose is to spin off a merchandising empire. And the emergence of the luxury clothing market for kids (baby Pumas, Dior kids jeans, Abercrombie Kids sweaters) who will outgrow the item before it's even worn in. And mani/ pedis for six year-olds. And ho-rrific dolls with bling in miniskirts that all but reveal the doll's anatomically incorrect ass. And the GIA's slumber party in a box that gets girl "agents" to gather market data on their friends in exchange for a free product.

Beyond this, many of the messages (and their implications) are quite troubling. Our culture is increasingly embracing the idea that you are what you own. While it's fine to have and appreciate nice things, a child's self-worth shouldn't be driven by the designer labels her parents can afford to buy for her. Others play up narcissim and entitlement. It gets even uglier when the message is about appearance/ body types/ beauty and sexualizes girls in a way that short-circuits childhood's innocence and creates unhealthy body image. The message to girls is what you wear, how you look, and how sexy you are determine how valuable you are. The message to boys is that "real men" only use violence, power, and domination to solve differences.

But it begins much earlier. Researchers are finding that edutainment (Baby Einstein, Brainy Baby, Leapfrog) doesn't work. Putting a kid in front of an electronic screen just teaches that kid to watch more. It is no substitute for face-to-face interaction and the tactile manipulation of objects in order to learn. Free and unstructured time and play are essential to the cognitive, physical, and emotional well-being of children. Creative play, which has declined by 94% among 9-12 year olds in the past decade, is the foundation of learning, problem solving, and empathy. But kids are being sold on the idea that they can't just play pirates or wizards, they have to own the official accoutrements from Pirates of the Caribbean or Harry Potter. The fundamental message is that kids need to have something outside themselves in order to play. That is tragic. It is also creating a future generation of superconsumers with ADD, diabetes, and hypertension. Juliet Schor's research found that the more media (TV, video games, internet) a child consumed, the more likely that child was to suffer from depression or anxiety.

I recently watched the "Consuming Kids" video series, which looks at how marketers target kids, both for their own spending power and for their influence over parents’ spending. I came away outraged. Disclaimer: I have an MBA in marketing and already know a fair amount about techniques and market segments. But this seven-part series is simultaneously fascinating and horrifying.

cake, but no presents, please

I think this is a great idea, but that it's a fine line to walk with kids. Maybe the answer is to give kids one cool gift that they really want and then let them pick a charity/ individual/ etc. to honor/ give cash or volunteering time to. Still, I'd like to try it ...

My favorite gift-giving ChristmaHanuKwanzIce was 2002, when my friends and colleagues enacted a gift ban and donated money (anonymously) to:

• a friend who had cancer and had lost her job, and to
  
• a family that was too poor to have presents or a nice meal for their children.

It was a win-win-win situation: None of us needed yet another tchotke, we all dodged the stress of holiday shopping (finding the perfect gift in a mall that's complete bedlam is no fun), and someone whom we knew could really use the money benefited.

I'm thinking that that's the holiday spirit to which I'd like to return. I've got all that I need, and most of the things I want, too ...

Cake, but No Presents, Please
By TINA KELLEY
July 27, 2007

CRANFORD, N.J., July 22 — At Gavin Brown’s 4th birthday party, the usual detritus lined the edges of the backyard: sippy cups, sunscreen, water shoes, stuffed animals. There were 44 guests and as many buns on the grill, in addition to an elaborate ice cream cake adorned with a fire truck. For the adults, there was sangria and savory corn salsa.

But the only gift in sight was a little red Matchbox hook and ladder rig. All the bounty from Gavin’s birthday — $240 in checks and cash collected in a red box next to a plastic fire helmet — went to the Cranford Fire Department.

“Thanks, buddy,” Lt. Frank Genova said on Sunday when Gavin handed over the loot, after which he took a tour of the pumper truck and tried on a real captain’s helmet. With the party proceeds, the birthday boy suggested, the firefighters “can buy new fire trucks, new equipment, and more food.”

In part to teach philanthropy and altruism, and in part as a defense against swarms of random plastic objects destined to clutter every square foot of their living space, a number of families are experimenting with gift-free birthday parties, suggesting that guests donate money or specified items to the charity of the child’s choice instead.

Witness, perhaps, the first hyper-parenting trend that does not reek of wanton excess.

Grown-ups who have everything have long politely requested “presence” instead of presents for later-in-life birthdays and anniversaries, and some couples have recently shunned the wedding registry, instead directing loved ones to donate.

Now, the trickle-down effect: Annie Knapp of Milford, N.J., collected $675 at her Sweet 16 in April for Heifer International, which provides livestock to poor families. Zachary Greene, who lives in the Chicago suburbs, turned 8 in November surrounded by books that his friends brought for a local reading program. And in Randolph, N.J., 6-year-old Jack Knapp (no relation to Annie) even got his grandparents to lug a 50-pound bag of kibble to his party for the local animal shelter.

Maggie Jones, director of Children for Children, a New York nonprofit, said that in the last year the number of participants in the group’s Celebrations program — which encourages “a tradition of giving” around milestones like birthdays, bar or bat mitzvahs and graduations — has more than doubled to 100-plus families. Ms. Jones said that she knew of four private schools in New York City that had made such parties the standard.

Davida Isaacson, a principal with Myerberg Shain & Associates, a fund-raising consulting firm, says that no-gift parties are one prong of a growing movement to involve even the youngest children in philanthropy. Some parents match children’s charitable donations dollar for dollar, she said, while others invite them to research causes and help decide which ones to support.

She recalled one wealthy couple telling their son when he was 18 or 19 that they were dividing their estate as if they had four children instead of three, the fourth being charity.

“The kid stormed out of the room,” she said. “And he came back a few minutes later and said, ‘You know, that’s really neat.’ ”

The gift-free party does have its detractors, most eloquent among them Judith Martin, who writes the Miss Manners syndicated column.

“People seem to forget that you can’t spend other people’s money, even for a good cause,” Ms. Martin said in a phone interview. “Do you really want the birthday child to grow up hating philanthropy because it’s done him out of his birthday presents?”

While she sympathizes with parents’ desire to avoid materialistic feeding frenzies, Ms. Martin advised: “They’d be much better off getting together with the other parents and agreeing on very small presents.” Besides, she noted, children learn valuable lessons giving gifts they would rather keep for themselves — and saying thank you even for things they do not like.

Toyi Ward, president of Favor Party Planning in Somerset, N.J., recalled a slightly traumatic no-gift party in which the birthday boy watched guests pile up items destined for underprivileged children through the group Toys for Tots. “The birthday child was 4, and it was a little difficult, because there were some toys in there he might have really wanted,” Ms. Ward recalled.

Catherine Racette gave the thumbs-down to a recent no-gifts party she attended (bringing a gift anyhow). “I mean, it’s the kid’s birthday,” she wrote on a community bulletin board, Maplewoodonline.com. “Let them get gifts — that’s kind of the fun of being a kid.”

Bill Doherty, who helped create Birthdays Without Pressure, a Web site opposed to expensive, competitive parties in the Nickelodeon set, said the no-gift notion was “great, especially if the child is involved in choosing the charity,” but cautioned that “it could become another source of competition.”

“Kind of like rich people and their gala charity balls,” he explained, “so people would ask, ‘How much did your child raise for charity?’ ”

In Randolph, N.J., Jack Knapp’s family has a five-year tradition of redirecting birthday benefits: They have collected dress-up clothes for a girl with cancer, items for the pediatric emergency room at Morristown Memorial Hospital and groceries for the Interfaith Food Pantry.

After seeing her two older siblings treated like heroes when they dropped off their haul, the youngest, Emily, recently told her mother, Mindy Knapp, that she wants gifts for her 4th birthday next month to go to the neonatal unit. Not that she can define neonatal.

“She said, ‘Could we give stuff to the babies at the hospital?’ Mrs. Knapp said. “Now they wouldn’t think of doing it any other way.”

Mrs. Knapp said her children’s grandparents “always support whatever cause the kids are into,” but also insist on giving them gifts, noting, “Otherwise it would be like a scene from ‘Mommie Dearest.’ ” As for skeptics, Mrs. Knapp said, “once they come to the party and see how the kids are all so excited, every single parent who expressed any doubt to me has said later, ‘I take it back; it’s a beautiful thing you’re teaching your kids.’ ”

Last year, Jack went to a party for twins where there was what Mrs. Knapp described as “a mountain of birthday presents.”

“He went up to them and said, ‘Wow, who’s getting all that stuff?’ ” she recalled. “It never occurred to him that they were bringing them home.”

Here at Gavin’s party, the 20 children did not bring gifts, but they left with them: organic cotton Ecobags filled with fruit leathers, likewise organic, and wooden toys.

Gavin’s mother, Shelley Brown, said she began talking with her son about the possibility of a present-free party several months ago. “We’re trying to raise him in a way of not being too much of a consumer,” said Ms. Brown, 35, who carried his year-old brother, Griffin, in a sling most of the afternoon. “He definitely has enough things.”

Kyle Miller of Cranford, whose 2-year-old daughter, Cady, attended the party, appreciated the life lesson that came with it. “We’re incredibly fortunate — we have an abundance of material things — but maybe that’s not the message we want to give our kids,” she said. “We want a different message.”

Another guest, Glenn Johnson, admitted to being a bit nervous about the prospect of showing up at a child’s party empty-handed (though he did bring $20 for the firefighters). So a model airplane, neatly wrapped, sat outside in his Toyota, just in case.

next up: nero and his goddamn fiddle

Conspicuous consumption taken to a revolting extreme ...

Hippest Baby Bling
Lauren Sherman, 05.25.07, 12:01 AM ET
New mom Paola Canahuati didn't bat an eyelash when forking over nearly $1,000 for her Bugaboo stroller.

That's because she believes certain high-end baby gear is worth the price, particularly when the baby is her own precious, albeit oblivious, 13-day-old, Aristotles.

"For baby clothes, I've tried to be more economical," says Canahuati, 23, who is currently on maternity leave from her position as a proofreader at the United Nations in New York City. "But when it comes to strollers, changing stations and cribs, I'm willing to spend more. I'm going to be using this stuff for two or three years, and I want the best for my baby boy."

Canahuati isn't alone. Heidi Klum's got a Stokke Xplory stroller (most models run around $999), and Michelle Soudry, founder of personalized baby gear website ItsMyBinky.com, sent Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie a $17,000 diamond-encrusted pacifier upon the birth last year of their daughter, Shiloh Jolie-Pitt.

In Pictures: Ultra-Expensive Baby Gear

Up next? A-list actresses such as Julia Roberts, Naomi Watts and Keri Russell are expecting children in the next few months. Baby showers thrown by well-heeled friends means lots of baby baubles.

Star Tracks
Kariz Favis, editor-in-chief of Baby Couture magazine, which focuses on high fashion for little ones, says that celebrity has certainly fueled the current rage for over-the-top kinder loot.

"I think it's largely attributable to the better and wider choices that are available in children's fashion and gear," says Favis. "When celebrity parents bought these items, their validation opened up a whole new market for high-end baby gear."

So while not everyone will be springing for a white Hermes Birkin bag (which can cost upward of $20,000) to store bottles and wipes, as model Kate Moss famously did after the birth of her daughter Lila Grace in 2002, you might see some posh moms with Goyard's made-to-order diaper bag, which can cost in the area of $3,000.

Other popular baby brands include Maclaren, the British company known for its prams--including a $4,000 limited edition leather stroller with nine-karat gold accents--and luxury fashion house Gucci, which produces everything from baby blankets to carriers, all with the signature GG print. Dior makes baby booties.

Expensive, no doubt. As such, says Milton Pedraza, CEO of the Luxury Institute, a New York City research firm that evaluates the purchasing power of high-net worth individuals, these purchases aren't made in haste.

"There's no question that wealthy baby boomers take as much time to research and buy luxury baby gear as they do automobiles," he says. "Superior quality is a requirement of a luxury good, and that's a major driver. But once you get past the functional benefit, it really is about having the equivalent of Ferraris and Maseratis for your kids."

Happy Habit?
However, high-end kinder candy might be less about showing off for your friends and more about lifting your spirits.

Lorena Bendinskas, co-founder of entertainment marketing company The Silver Spoon, which organizes the annual Dog and Baby Hollywood Buffet charity event, says postpartum purchases make moms feel good. "Buying a nice diaper bag or personalized pacifier,” she says, “makes moms who aren't feeling 100% ... focus on something more positive.”

Others say it has to do more with owning something completely original--or at least highly coveted. “Parents love to be able to make their child's belonging's unique," says Soudry. "There's definitely a craze for personalization."

Yet, even for extreme spenders, it still comes down to the well-being of baby.

Her $1,000 stroller aside, Canahuati's must-have purchase? "Right now," she says, "my biggest concern is choosing the right breast pump."

Now she just has to decide, is it going to be $40 or $400? Good thing there's a not a platinum version.

woodcuts and petrified turds

I'm not an obsessive collector of anything. Actually, I accumulate things not so much because I love things, but because I love experiences.

That usually means something I've picked up on my travels or been given by friends. Some are displayed. Others, like the woodcut prints from my trip to Prague in 2002 that I haven't gotten around to framing yet, aren't. Although I don't display it, I still have a turtle coprolite that was a gift in high school (nothing says love like the petrified remains of a turtle's bowel movement).

But nothing I own is quite as valuable or (frankly) freaky as the items mentioned in this article. At least not yet.

Op-Ed: Collect-Me-Nots
By JUDITH PASCOE
Published: May 17, 2007
Iowa City

THE owner of Napoleon’s penis died last Thursday in Englewood, N.J. John K. Lattimer, who’d been a Columbia University professor and a collector of military (and some macabre) relics, also possessed Lincoln’s blood-stained collar and Hermann Göring’s cyanide ampoule. But the penis, which supposedly had been severed by a priest who administered last rites to Napoleon and overstepped clerical boundaries, stood out (sorry) from the professor’s collection of medieval armor, Civil War rifles and Hitler drawings.

The chances that Napoleon’s penis would be excised so that it could become a souvenir were improved by his having lived and died at a moment when the physical remains of celebrities held a strong attraction. Shakespeare didn’t become Shakespeare until the dawn of the romantic period, when his biography was written, his plays annotated and his belongings sought out and preserved. Trees that stood outside the bard’s former homes were felled to provide Shakespearean lumber for tea chests and tobacco stoppers.

After Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo, his possessions toured England. His carriage, filled with enticing contents like a gold tongue scraper, a flesh brush, “Cashimeer small-clothes” and a chocolate pot, drew crowds and inspired the poet Byron to covet a replica. When Napoleon died, the trees that lined his grave site at St. Helena were slivered into souvenirs.

The belief that objects are imbued with a lasting essence of their owners, taken to its logical extreme, led to the mind-set that caused Mary Shelley to keep her husband’s heart, dried to a powder, in her desk drawer. Of course, relic collecting long predates the romantic period; medieval pilgrims sought out fragments of the True Cross. In the aftermath of the Reformation, religious relics that had been ejected from monasteries joined secular collections that freely intermingled belemnites with saints’ finger bones. When Keats died, his hair took on the numinous appeal of a religious artifact.

Napoleon’s penis was not the only Napoleonic body part that became grist for the relic mill. Two pieces of Napoleon’s intestine, acquired by the Museum of the Royal College of Surgeons of England in 1841, provoked a long-simmering debate beginning in 1883. That year, Sir James Paget called the specimens’ authenticity into question, contrasting their seemingly cancerous protrusions to the sound tissue Napoleon’s doctor had earlier described. In 1960, the dispute continued in The Annals of the Royal College of Surgeons of England, long after the intestine pieces had been destroyed during a World War II air raid.

Dr. Lattimer, a urologist, could claim a professional interest in Napoleon’s genitalia. Not so its previous owner, the Philadelphia bookseller and collector A. S. W. Rosenbach, who took a “Rabelaisian delight” in the relic, according to his biographer, Edwin Wolf. When Rosenbach put the penis on display at the Museum of French Art in New York, visitors peered into a vitrine to see something that looked like a maltreated shoelace, or a shriveled eel.

Whether the object prized by Dr. Lattimer was actually once attached to Napoleon may never be resolved. Some historians doubt that the priest could have managed the organ heist when so many people were passing in and out of the emperor’s death chamber. Others suggest he may have removed only a partial sample. If enough people believe in a possibly spurious penis, does it become real?

The pathos of Napoleon’s penis — bandied about over the decades, barely recognizable as a human body part — conjures up the seamier side of the collecting impulse. If, as Freud suggested, the collector is a sexually maladjusted misanthrope, then the emperor’s phallus is a collector’s object nonpareil, the epitome of male potency and dominance. The ranks of Napoleon enthusiasts, it should be noted, include many alpha males: Bill Gates, Newt Gingrich, Stanley Kubrick, Winston Churchill, Augusto Pinochet. Nevertheless, the Freudian paradigm has never accounted for women collectors, nor does it explain the appeal of collections for artists like Lisa Milroy, whose paintings of cabinet handles or shoes, arrayed in series, animate these common objects.

It’s time to let Napoleon’s penis rest in peace. Museums are quietly de-accessioning the human remains of indigenous peoples so that body parts can be given proper burial rites. Napoleon’s penis, too, should be allowed to go home and rejoin the rest of his captivating body.

Judith Pascoe, a professor of English at the University of Iowa, is the author of “The Hummingbird Cabinet: A Rare and Curious History of Romantic Collectors.”

Correction: May 18, 2007

An Op-Ed article yesterday, about collecting relics, misstated Napoleon’s fate at Waterloo. He formally surrendered a month after the battle; he was not captured there.

simplify

I'm fan of most used things (used cars, used books — especially textbooks) ... I've even bought used cookie sheets. I've also freecycled with some of my friends.

Lest you think I'm singlehandedly bringing down the economy, here are some facts:

Incinerating 10,000 tons of waste creates 1 job, land filling the same amount creates 6 jobs, recycling the same 10,000 tons creates 36 jobs.

I think I'll take a modified version of this challenge in 2007. Whenever possible, I'll try and freecycle. Failing that, I'll buy an item used, or one that is recycled/ recyclable. Going whole-hog seems like it would take over my life, and I'm not interested enough to surrender all of my free time to this cause. But for now, I'm up for less conspicuous consumption.

10 friends live secondhand for a year: Voluntary simplicity also sparks a backlash
By William Booth
The Washington Post
Updated: 8:29 a.m. PT Dec 18, 2006

SAN FRANCISCO - In the living room, the group gathers to share inspirational stories about the joy of finding just the right previously owned shower curtain. To the uninitiated, these people appear almost normal, at least in a San Francisco kind of way. But upon closer inspection, you see it: Nothing in this house, nothing on their bodies, none of their products -- nothing is new. Everything is used.

For these people, recycling wasn't enough. Composting wasn't a challenge anymore. No, they wanted much more of much less.

Attention holiday shoppers! These people haven't bought anything new in 352 days -- and counting. These 10 friends vowed last year not to purchase a single new thing in 2006 -- except food, the bare necessities for health and safety (toilet paper, brake fluid) and, thankfully, underwear, and maybe socks (they're still debating whether new socks are okay).

Everything else they bought secondhand. They bartered or borrowed. Recycled. Re-gifted. Reused. Where? Thrift stores and swap meets, friends and Dumpsters, and the Internet, from Craigslist to the Freecycle Network, which includes 3,843 communities and 2.8 million members giving away stuff to one another.

These people purchased old sheets this year. Tonight's vegetarian feast was cooked in a hand-me-down Crock-Pot. Christmas presents? They're making them, or -- shudders -- they don't give them.

They call their little initiative "the Compact," which they say has something to do with the Mayflower and the Pilgrim pledge to live for the greater good, save the planet, renew their souls, etc. And although these modern "Compactors" say they never intended to spark a mini-movement or appear on the "Today" show, that is exactly what has happened.

Since the San Francisco Chronicle ran an article about them in February, their story of not buying has appeared on media outlets around the world -- everything from Yoga Journal to Martha Stewart's Body + Soul to the London Times. Even Oprah's producers called.

Pinched a nerve
It appears they've pinched a nerve. Perhaps, the Compactors suggest, many people have the same feeling that the mall just isn't working for them anymore.

"We're just rarefied middle-class San Francisco greenies having a conversation about consumption and sustainability," says John Perry, a marketing executive with a high-tech firm, and one of the founding Compactors. "But suddenly, we decide we're not going to buy a bunch of new stuff for a year? And that's international news? Doesn't that say something?"

Their user group on Yahoo has grown to 1,800 registered members, representing SubCompact cells operating across the country (including Washington), and around the planet. So they apparently live among us, biding their time, quietly not buying, like some kind of Fifth Column of . . . Shakers.

The online Compact community ( http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thecompact) spends enormous amounts of typing-time discussing things most Americans probably do not. Such as how to make soap. Or whether a mousetrap counts as a safety necessity. Or how to explain to your children that Santa Claus traffics in used toys.

"And people hate us for it? Like it drives them nuts?" This is Shawn Rosenmoss, an environmental engineer in the original San Francisco group. Some have called the Compactors un-American, anti-capitalist, eco-freak poseurs whose defiant act of not-consuming, if it caught on, would destroy the economy and our way of life.

Kalle Lasn, editor of Adbusters magazine, who advocates taking a 24-hour timeout of the consumer merry-go-round, has promoted Buy Nothing Day since 1992, urging citizens to resist the urge to splurge on the day after Thanksgiving, the kickoff to the holiday shopping spree.

Lasn claims that millions of people have stopped shopping on Buy Nothing Day, although he admits there is no way to know for sure. But Lasn does know that Internet discussion about the movement has grown, and so, too, the backlash -- against the backlash.

"I go on talk radio shows, and I'm amazed by the anger of some people, the Chamber of Commerce president who calls up and says, 'You're trying to ruin the economy,' " Lasn says. "I sympathize. I know you have to pay your rent, but try to take the larger view. We consume three times more than we did right after World War II. These things are connected."

"I think it upsets people because it seems like we're making a value judgment about them," says Rosenmoss, who has two children. "When we're simply trying to bring less . . . into our house."

What are the rules to this particular game? "People are really into the rules," Perry says, "as if it were a game, which it kind of is. I like that part of it. Figuring out how to do what I need to do without running out and buying something."

Is a toilet brush a necessity?
The rules are simple -- and flexible. The original Compactors decided they would get to vote on anything in the gray areas.

One member recalls asking permission to purchase a new toilet brush, contending that it was a health issue. Overruled. How about a new house key? Allowed. New tubes of shampoo, toothpaste, sunscreen are okay, but skin bronzer would be frowned upon.

At the potluck supper, the family dog is playing with a toy, which looks like a ball of yarn. Technically, it is new, and thus a Compact breaker. "But if she eats it," points out Rachel Kesel, a professional dog walker, "then it's food."

"We all have our little weaknesses," says Kate Boyd, a schoolteacher and set designer. Her challenge was getting used bicycle shoes, plus a used helmet and pump. Three buys through Craigslist through three sellers. "It was more of a hassle than going to the bike store," she says, but more interesting, too. "You get to meet new people."

The greatest challenge of the Compact? "The strangest things," Perry explains. For example, he cannot find used shoe polish.

Then there are modern dilemmas. Is it better to buy a battery (allowed, if recycled and rechargeable) for a cellular phone for $70 or just have the company give you a new free phone if you switch providers?

Clothes? Easy, they say. Vintage stores. Consignment shops. Or more down-market, your Goodwill, your Salvation Army. Or your own closet, likely filled with outfits.

Toys? The easiest. Perry and his partner, Rob Picciotto, a high school language teacher, have two adopted children. "I take Ben to Target sometimes and we'll play with the toys and then leave," Picciotto says. The kid seems happy.

"I broke down and bought a drill bit," Rosenmoss says. The Compactors nod their heads. "I just wanted it and I needed and I did it." The group members understand. They've had their drill-bit moments.

‘The craving will pass’
But not a lot of them. Asked what they bought that broke the Compact, the list was not long: some sneakers, the drill bit, a map, and for Sarah Pelmas and her newlywed husband, Matt Eddy (fellow Compactors), some energy-efficient windows for the house renovation. The 1920s house, they remind us, was purchased used. Indeed, they painted it with recycled paint.

"By being so strict with yourself, you learn to take a deep breath," Kesel says.

"You learn to do away with the impatience." Boyd says, "You see that the craving will pass."

One Compactor points out that the group's members are not really denying themselves much. Boyd says that, for example, by buying less new, "I drink way better wine now." Also allowed: services. So they could buy a massage if they wanted to. They can go to movies, theater, concerts, museums, bars, music clubs and restaurants. They can fly, drive (and buy gas), stay in hotels.

Judith Levine, author of "Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping," went really cold turkey in 2004 with her husband. The couple split their time between Brooklyn and Vermont. She applauds the Compactors, but says that not buying stuff for a year is only taking it halfway. Not going to the movies and restaurants for a year -- now that's cutting back.

Amazingly, the Compactors have all decided to renew their pledge for another year. There are, naturally, things they miss, and so they've decided to give themselves one day next month when they can buy a few things they really need new.

Like? "I need a drain snake," Perry says. Is that not pitiful?

Used pillowcases? Disgusting.
Pelmas is dying for new pillowcases. Used pillowcases, even this group agrees, are rather disgusting.

Lessons learned?

"We didn't do this to save the world. We did this to improve the quality of our own lives," Perry says. "And what we learned is that we all have a lot of more stuff than you think, and that you can get along on a lot less stuff than you can imagine."

fly the conspicuous consumption skies

How Long Until Some CEO Flies in an Entire Personal Airbus 380 to a Conference to Denounce Fossil Fuel Waste?
Special to Page 2
By Gregg Easterbrook
In recent years Tuesday Morning Quarterback has charted both the profusion of corporate-sized jets -- so many that it's becoming difficult for the rich to park their planes at Aspen, Nantucket and other glam destinations -- and advent of the Boeing Business Jet and Airbus Corporate Jet. The BBJ is an entire Boeing 737 converted for the use of a single CEO, government official or plutocrat; the ACJ is an entire Airbus 320 converted for the same purpose. (Both planes normally seat up to 140 passengers.) Governments of mid-sized nations have been ordering BBJs and ACJs for their top officials -- the Czech Republic just ordered three. Aviation insiders call such planes "Air Force One Juniors," intended to stroke the egos of government officials by making them feel so important that they, just like the president of the United States, fly in their own personal jetliner. The Czech Republic has a population of 10 million, about the same as the population of New Jersey: yet its leaders feel the country must have three Air Force One Juniors, so that not just the prime minister but the Foreign Secretary and the head of the Czech military can have an entire jetliner devoted to personal comfort. Privat Air, a European charter company, recently converted a Boeing 757, a larger plane, into a one-person luxury cruiser. It is now for rent to governments -- so that on that special occasion, any country can pretend to have an Air Force One Junior.

It's distressing when CEOs use shareholder money to buy themselves BBJs or ACJs, which can cost $100 million fully fitted with luxury features such as king bed apartments. (Boeing says there are now 88 BBJs in operation around the world, and refuses to disclose the buyers.) It's distressing that spoiled CEOs claim they need entire jetliners to themselves as an anti-terrorism tactic. (Go here, then click "BBJ," then "utility," then "security.") It's distressing that soaring above the clouds in their $100 million shareholder-funded extravagances, CEOs sign memos cutting health care benefits for working people. It's distressing that governments of impoverished nations in Africa have purchased BBJs or ACJs to stroke the egos of their corrupt dictators. But what's really distressing is the latest news: now an entire Boeing 737 converted to the personal use of a CEO is no longer enough! Boeing has begun to market personal 747s and 787s, while Airbus is taking orders for a personal version of the upcoming A380, the world's largest aircraft.

Lufthansa Technik, a German firm that converts planes built as passenger jets into personal luxury skycruisers, says there are now 39 VIP versions of the 747 in the world -- and that's not counting the actual Air Force One, a converted 747, or Air Force Two, the converted 747 that Vice President Dick Cheney absurdly has at his personal disposal. Technik says the VIP 747s cost an average of $230 million each, about $180 million to buy the airliner used and another $50 million to add luxury features. Fifty million dollars to add luxury features. Bear in mind this is only a little less than the price of the most expensive home ever sold in the United States, the Palm Beach estate of billionaire Ronald Perelman, which sold in 2004 for $70 million -- and that 33,000 square-foot mansion covered six acres of valuable oceanfront land. A Boeing 747, one of the world's largest airplanes, normally seats about 400 people. A luxury-refitted 747 has almost 5,000 square feet of interior space, twice the size of the typical American home. Some of the VIP 747s have been converted for corporate use, several are owned by Persian Gulf oil sheiks, and a few have been refitted exclusively for the use a single individual.

Eyeing the growth in flying luxury liner converted from used aircraft, Boeing and Airbus will offer VIP versions of their new 787 and A380 as soon as the planes are flying. The new Boeing 787 Dreamliner, due at airports in a couple years, is expected to sell to airlines for about $180 million and seat 300 passengers. Last month, Technik unveiled its concept studies for a personal luxury 787, expected to cost around $250 million. In Technik's proposed layout, the VIP 787 "master stateroom" has "his and hers bathrooms." There are also "two en-suite guest cabins." More: "The dining and conference room with full communication facilities is a prime feature of the design, highly visible on entering the plane. The centrally located feature dining table seats 10 for elegant and comfortable dining, in fully certified seats. Dinner service is effortlessly carried out from the buffet credenzas on either side of the dining table. Full height wardrobe storage is provided for guest coats and bags. As required, a 42-inch plasma screen can rise up from the credenza to the aft of the dining table. This room can be privatized from the entrance hall and forward lounge by solid sliding doors. The integrated movie theatre is a complete entertainment extravaganza. It is the ideal live entertainment venue as well." Plasma TVs everywhere -- you're going to climb aboard your own private $250 million mega-luxury jet and just watch television?

Most overdone and offensive will be the personal version of the A380, a jetliner designed to carry about 600 passengers. The personal version will be called the VVIP380 and will sell for $400 million or more, depending on the level of interior luxury. Technik says it expects at least 10 VVIP380s will be purchased, and implies most will be bought by oil sheiks. Because the A380 has two decks, in a corporate-jet version, one entire deck would be reserved for the CEO, the other deck for underlings. Go here and have a look for yourself. Airbus calls the proposed plane "a flying palace."

Via Leo