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Class Actions
Judy Martel
03/01/2008
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In the UK, social station is defined
by tradition, law and, in many cases, the willingness of one’s ancestors to suck
up to the king. The American system is less complex: Wealth determines class.
End of story. Those with enough money to buy whatever they want are considered
upper class. Those who are comfortable but must still save or borrow for major
purchases are middle class.
There are microclimates within the greater social-class
environment—the nouveau riche who eat with their fingers and gaudily flaunt
their wealth; the shabby genteel who have impeccable table manners but can no
longer afford prime rib. Yet for the most part the American class system pays
little mind to the details of personal circumstance. Either you’re wealthy or
you’re not. And traditionally, determining who was or was not upper class was
easily accomplished by observing their purchases. Very few people drove
Bentleys, because only a select few could afford them.
 However, in an age of easy credit and Machiavellian marketing,
ostentation no longer serves as an accurate barometer of wealth or class. James
Twitchell, the author of Living It
Up: Our Love Affair with Luxury and a
professor of English and advertising at the University of Florida, says we
are experiencing the erosion of traditional class boundaries—however superficial
they may be—due primarily to the efforts of clever marketers and middle-class
shoppers hungry for luxury goods. The power of consumption has defaced many of
the old conventions and, Twitchell maintains, consumers now have the ability
to move from class to class with relative ease based upon the amount of their
wealth. "This free-for-all is moving around the world, breaking conventions," he
says.
Indeed, the extremely wealthy are barely staying ahead of this
new vanity class, which seeks to own the small trappings of luxury that would
give it the appearance of greater affluence—$700 shoes or even a $10,000 watch,
for example. "What do the überwealthy have that the rest of us don’t have in
small amounts? Very little," Twitchell notes. "Nobody knows if someone owns or
leases a Lexus. The middle class can grab a hold of bits and pieces. If they
can’t buy it by the pound, they can buy by the ounce."
Narratives of Luxury
Americans find it difficult to discuss class, because the very
idea of it runs counter to our democratic ideals. Yet class has always been an
integral part of the American social fabric. In the absence of a codified system
of privilege, we have relied upon material success to determine where we stand
in the social pecking order.
The American system is further defined by what Twitchell
calls "the narrative of luxury"—how the upper classes use luxury goods as
markers of wealth. Certain styles, tastes and products become synonymous with
affluence. "For example," he says, "we are deeply in a story now that started in
the 18th century, that French taste is somehow superior. The rest of the world
pays attention to this one chunk of the Western world. China and Japan are
paying particular attention right now."
Twitchell notes that this narrative is beginning to crumble as
some items, like the Chanel handbag, have become available in retail stores
everywhere. "Products generate value by being out of reach," he says. Part of
the allure of luxury comes from the notion of "I’ve got it and you don’t,"
which means expensive and elusive items become highly sought-after. "Luxury
goods bring us together and separate us," Twitchell explains. "We’re always torn
between two axis points, keeping up with the Joneses and moving away and up to
another set."
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