Recipitation

We spent $28/person to take round-trip weekend excursion to Washington DC to play at Easter bunnies and egg dying with my brother-in-law and his family

$13 (credit) at Macy’s–I broke my 5 year pledge not to shop there through a last-minute realization that it was my sister-in-laws birthday and as she is one who lives a gift-economy life, a desire to meet her needs through a present and a conveniently located Macy’s contrived together to pull me out of my happy little place of protestation through non-consumption.  The question that remains must be, then, will I return to my pledge despite my slip, or will I say, like the proverbial woman dieting, that since I’ve slipped I might as well slide?  I know the answer, after having pondered it for a few days: No. My reasons for signing that pledge rested in a desire to see something so Chicago (Marshall Fields) remain Chicago; instead we got a NY version of what they (the $ makers at Macy’s) thought Chicago should be. Granted, Fields was not truly “Chicago” when Target Corp owned Field’s. Nevertheless, at least Target tried to build upon a history of an interesting regional brand, instead of turning something unique into a clone of the rest of big-box America, even if wrapped up in a pretty State-Street package.  So I signed a pledge, and quit shopping there. For five years. And I will not go back for the same reasons I stopped shopping at my favorite US department store. I’m not alone, as a recent visit to FieldsFansChicago.org shows.  Irrational? Perhaps. But not alone. Read the rest of this entry »

I recently (erroneously, I must add) stated that I grew up in a home where makeup wasn’t emphasized during a discussion of Kathy Peiss’ piece “Making Up, Making Over.”  A few hours of mulling over the idea that the world judges me on how my face is “made up” without consulting me, I decided to revisit my own makeup collection.

Here it is.

I have more than I thought. I wear very little of it. Most of my makeup was purchased during a love-affair with Marshall Field’s in Chicago, before Macy’s bought them out and turned them into a hollow clone of every other Macy’s in the universe. Bleck. I loved walking into the makeup department, looking up at the Tiffany ceiling, and pretending I lived in a different universe where money was never tight and my closet was stuffed full of fabulous clothing. Then I acted out those fantasies through a fun little ritual of window shopping. To minimize temptation to actually buy, I developed a sneaky little plan: take the bus downtown, visit the library, hurry up State Street to whichever store I wanted to visit, and catch the same bus back home before my two hour transfer time ran out. You can do a lot in an hour. Browse through 80% off racks and guess what the price will be (my favorite: deciding something was originally $200, then discovering that no, it was reduced to $200).  Try on hats. And occasionally, buy a bit of makeup.  My favorite was Clinique’s touch base, a creamy smear-on eyeshadow base that I just used as eyeshadow. It made the excessive-contact wearage red around my eyes less noticeable.

It turns out, when I review the mental film in my head, that my mother does wear makeup. In fact, she hates leaving the house without it on, although she will. My statement that she doesn’t comes from one simple little detail: she doesn’t wear foundation. And that, to me, is what truly defines a made-up face.  Putting color around your eyes is one thing, or a bit of mascara, but taking your own skin and slathering it with some nasty colorful stuff that can come off on your date’s suit or favorite shirt? Unacceptable. So, since she doesn’t wear foundation, in my mind, she doesn’t wear makeup.

However, when I hit the approved “makeup wearing age” (12? 13? 14? I do not recall), my mom gave me my first set of eyeshadow. It was blue, like hers. I wore it a few times, and in a typical guesture of teenage identity declaration, decided to never wear blue eyeshadow again.  That transitioned into a mascara-only phase, that I generally still live in today.  Various people in my life have tried to teach me to do my makeup, or have made me over. I smile, thank them, look in the mirror and think “clown!”

All that makeup? Halloween, job interviews, and my favorite: writing notes to myself on the mirror. In lipstick. Best use ever.

Just as vacationing results in excessive expenditure, so does homecoming. After all, once you’ve cleaned out your stinky fridge you find that food is lacking, transit cards have expired, your toilet no longer works, and your stomach is grouchy.   Even more pressing, though, is that need to eat a bag full of Red Vines.  Going somewhere foreign makes me crave the strangest things. Plus, Red Vines go very well with popcorn and movies.

So, since returning to the US, I’ve bought:
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My husband took me on a lunch date yesterday. On the surface, our reason was to celebrate the fact that he is employed (something well worth celebrating in a world of $1500 rent, which we paid on Wednesday using a check).   Underlying that surface reason was the reality that two friends of ours recently surprised us by sending $50 worth of gift cards for the Union Square Hospitality Group, and those gift cards were set to expire at the end of March. We’ve been to Tabla once before; my in-laws took me for my birthday. I loved the silly sumptuousness of the ceiling, and the fact that fat fluffy snowflakes started dusting the city half-way through our lunch, perfectly framed by the large picture window overlooking Madison Square Park.  I loved the flavors of my food, the texture of my first medium-rare salmon, and the conversation. This visit didn’t have the same blush of first love, after all, the temperature was warm enough for a winter skirt (no snow), and I’d already seen the ceiling; that said, I still enjoyed every bite I ate. And I ate too many.

This time, I noticed something fun and new: when the waiters change the table cloths, they do it in such a way that no one ever sees the table tops. I do not regularly dine at 3 or 4 start NY restaurants, so this concept of “luxury” strikes me as relatively novel.  It demonstrates a desire to maintain the pretension that the seedy underbelly of tablecloths (that is, cleaning, cooking, and dish washing) exist in another world, while we, the guests, glide through life on a silver caviar spoon. Ridiculous. Beautiful. Read the rest of this entry »

Leaving home inevitably opens up a pandora’s box of justification in expenditures. Vacation destinations, cruise ships and airlines are all aware of this–consider, for example, the sky malls of the air, with their hot-diggity-doggers (an all-in-one toaster/hot dog roaster), planter/litterbox combos and UV toothbrush sanitizers.  None of these are pressing needs (or, to be honest, pressing wants), but in the captive space above ground reason often goes into hiding.  This feeling of freedom from the normal home rules of expenditure must be what makes little shops full of junk souvenirs profitable, and drives people on cruises to play along with the illusion that the “sales” that occur on the latter half of a cruise are truly unique to this moment, as opposed to a carefully planned and scheduled means to induce guests to buy.

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I talked to a stranger in the elevator today. My pretext for breaking the social contract of silence? Her lunch tote. I couldn’t help but exclaim over the breathtaking combination of functionality and fun embodied in one little bag. She replied to my “I love your lunchbag!” with a “I had to get it! It was just so me.”

I understand. Last year, I bought my laptop my husband’s laptop it’s own little BuiltNY sleeve based entirely on the fact that it a) did what a laptop sleeve was supposed to (so boring) and b) had seriously fun dot action. Despite my rational understanding that choosing a case on looks was as silly as picking my running shoes based on color and style (after meeting the comfort quota), I still extracted the extra $5 for the price point difference and walked off with something that was “so me.” A triumph of design.
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I recently visited a promotional event for Electrolux (to read about it, see here). After the camera lights finished popping, and my mouth recovered from the glow of a little red velvet cupcake (not as good as this, though), I realized that the final frosting on this cupcake was a little gift bag filled with a t-shirt, a press announcement, and a box of cupcake cards. Freebies!  Well, kind of. I couldn’t help, as I posed for the mug shot above, feeling a bit criminal–I did nothing more than listen to their announcement, take a few pictures, and wonder why a PR event supposedly featuring amazing appliances focused on the TV personality hosting the event, and not on the appliances themselves. Read the rest of this entry »

It was one of those days that started out beautifully, and ends in a smashing bustle of head pain. Nevertheless, here are today’s musings and spendings:

$33.00 (credit–guarantees I get a receipt, which is necessary since I will be reimbursed for this) to Sugar Sweet Sunshine for 22 cupcakes to feed to whichever brilliant MA students show up on Friday to discuss Democracy versus Distinction.  You want to read this paper. It will change the way you think about mediated food consumption.  The authors argue that media, specifically print media, frames the way that food is discussed using 2 themes: authenticity and exoticism.

To demonstrate authenticity, food writers employ cues such as “geographic specificity, ’simplicity,’ personal connections and historicism” (pg 179).  To demonstrate the exotic nature of food, writers note “unusualness and foreignness” (pg 189) in foods, and may highlight foods that “break the norm” (pg 192).  As noted in my “Me and my alter ego” section, I love all things food. That, of course, translates into a healthy overdose of food writing through blogs and magazines.  Gourmet magazines may have started this dialogue, but blogs are certainly carrying through with it. I’ll highlight some examples from my favorite reads. Geographic specificity? Chocolate and Zucchini highlights chocolate from El Ceibo Simplicity? Green Fork serves up a variety of “simple” producers. Personal connections? Chez Us takes us to dinner with Anthony. Historicism? Curd Nerds remind us that the best cheeses come from the Alpine heights of history. These themes pop up everywhere! Are they invalid? I think not, but it is worth questioning when we place a value on something WHO is creating that value, and what are the social pressures pushing us into a belief system.

$9.10 (cash, no receipts) to two vendors in the Essex Street Market for 5 lbs of tomatillos, one bunch of cilantro, 5 heads of garlic, one can of chipotle peppers in adobo, one mango, 1 poblano and 2 serranos.

$40.00 (cash, no receipt) for my portion of January and February’s internet bill. We do internet cooperatively here. It’s wonderful.

This is why one should post daily–otherwise you find yourself buried in little expenses, a bit like those errant leftovers hiding in the back of the refrigerator. They’ve mutated into something dangerous in those forgotten moments. Beware.

On the train today, I gave a man my change for a song he sang. $0.31(cold change)

My husband went to check out some books from the library. It turns out they are running a money collection scheme entitled late fines: $1.25/day/book. It’s worse than the university’s fine! He paid $23 (credit) of the $38 he owed. Ouch. It hurts to write. I’m assuaging my brain by thinking of it as a charitable donation. Even if it was forced.  He also spent $2.00 (cash) on a slice of pizza while waiting for the bus to take him to his library doom.

Meanwhile, I, in a fit of hunger, walked from 4th to 14th to buy an apple from the farmer’s market at the amazing price of $1.00/lb. Total for my one apple: $0.34 (wet change). Plus the moral superiority of walking in the rain to buy a locally grown apple. Now aren’t I proud of myself? (Yes, that is slight self-mockery)

Due to a rip in the time-space continuum which ate my last pair of gloves, I also wandered into Filene’s basement to get myself a new pair of gloves. My last pair have followed me through four years of life before leaving me for a train seat. Or something. These ones were $5.99 (credit), 40% off their “already discounted” price of $9.99.  Maybe I should’ve ponied up for nicer ones, as my fingers were cold the whole way to class.

Back expenses come tomorrow. I ate panzanella for lunch today, just so I could think about peasant food gaining status when consumed by the cultural elite who don’t need to eat peasant food daily. It was good. I am neither authentic, simple, exotic or unique in eating panzanella, but I am happy to try something new.

From A Report of an Enquiry by the (Great Britain) Board of Trade into Working Class Rents, Housing and Retail Prices, Presented to Parliment in 1911, we learn that not much has changed in US consumption habits since 1909.

It is evident, however, that the practice of buying clothes that are expected and intended to last for a single season only and not for two or more is much more common than in [Britain]. In this respect an analogy may be traced to a national characteristic, noticeable not only in respect to clothing but also as regards houses in their inferior durability and, as regards machinery, in the grater rapidity with which it is either worn or discarded.  In all of these directions there appears to be a half-conscious discernment of what is regarded as ‘economy in spending,’ which, while savouring sometimes of extravagance, tends at the same time, as regards machinery, to secure the maximum of at least temporary efficiency, and as regards clothing, as also of food, the maximum of freshness and satisfaction.

Ephemerality of consumption appears to be a long-standing tradition in the US.