Living It Up: America's Love Affair with Luxury

by James B. Twitchell

Luxury isn't just for the rich, says James B. Twitchell. Today you don't need a six-figure income to wear pashmina, drink a limited-edition coffee at Starbucks, or drive a Mercedes home to collapse on the couch in front of a flat-screen plasma TV. In Living It Up, sharp-eyed consumer anthropologist Twitchell takes a witty and insightful look at luxury -- what it is, who defines it, and why we can't seem to get enough of it.
In recent years, says Twitchell, luxury spending has grown much faster than overall spending -- and it continues to grow despite the economic recession. Luxury has become such a powerful marketing force that it cuts across every layer of society, spawning a magazine devoted to spas, cashmere bedspreads on sale at Kmart, and a dazzling array of bottled waters.
Twitchell says that the democratization of luxury has had a unifying effect on culture. Luxury items tell a story that we want to identify with, and more people than ever aspire to the story of Ralph Lauren's Polo or Patek Philippe. Shopping itself is no longer a chore but a transcendent experience in which we shop not so much for goods as for an identity.
Sharply observed and wickedly funny, Living It Up is a revealing and entertaining examination of why we are all part of the cult of luxury.

Genres: Nonfiction, Business, Psychology, Cultural Studies

320 pages, Paperback

First published February 15, 2002

About the author

James B. Twitchell is an American author and former professor of English, known for his work on advertising, consumer culture, and popular media. He earned his BA, MA, and PhD from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. A tenured professor at the University of Florida, Twitchell resigned in 2008 following allegations of plagiarism. Despite this, he remains recognized for his engaging writing style and provocative insights into American cultural and consumer behavior.

Reviews

[Sheryl · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating, fascinating book.

While I totally understand needless consumption -- my book collection is an embarrassment; sometimes I think I spend more time managing it than I do reading -- I have never understood the thrill of Gucci, or what's so great about "that new car smell" (smells like offgasing plastic to me, which is not exciting), or why people get a buzz out of buying an overpriced product that isn't any better quality-wise than something that costs half as much. It's all very well to dismiss people who're into that by calling them "status seekers," but, assuming I don't present myself as a "threat" by pointing out how irrational it is/that the quality doesn't justify the price, half the people I know who're into that sort of thing are more interested in recruiting me into their club than in lording it over me because they are members, if you will.

Which is why I grabbed the book. But, as it turns out, while he does wrestle with those issues, Twitchell also goes into a bunch of other stuff I've puzzled over now and then, like why some Disney fans seem to make a religion of their Disney appreciation, and why the word "indulgences" used to mean paying off your sins and now means pampering yourself, and why some people are happy buying stuff in touristy areas that they could have just as easily gotten at home.

Still working through some of what he had to say and don't agree with absolutely everything (but then, I never do), but he certainly gave me a lot to think about!

[Jenna · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is an excellent read that places the concept of luxury and how it emerged, is understood, packaged, sold, advertised, and changes in American society. While the book has its own biases, it makes an effort to acknowledge it's own biases, often humorously and with self-awareness -- it is a more of a genuine cultural study, versus an "expose" of "what's wrong with American spending." As more of an academic tome, it is accessible, but employs a variety of theories, history, and studies -- and the author will often assume you'll understand its cultural references and humor (from Baudrillard to Dreiser), although even these are often given enough context that if the reader will still understand the point, even if not famiiar with the referent.

The print is absurdly small in the 2002 paperback edition -- if you're interested in reading, see if one can find an e-copy...!

[vitellan · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is clearly not the newest or loudest book on the subject, but more of-the-moment discussions would certainly mention influencer/"haul"/unboxing culture and how mobile/online shopping has grown at warp speed, the effect of the pandemic on online purchases, general resignation/despair/fear in society, echo chambers, ubiquity of advertising and media, etc... which exist in mostly video analyses everywhere.

For that reason, it's fascinating to see the transition in earlier decades. The positioning of cars and items in different categories, for example. Twitchell points out many of these:
- Why does every ordinary item have to be made into "luxury" now?
- We became fixated on luxury as a visible proof of status and worth, and it is all a game of relativity. Twitchell notes that no human being in marketing ever stopped to ask whether they could successfully reposition a good. But also, why did no one ever stop to ask if it was good to feed into this mentality at all?

He's writing at a time where he thinks he has to defend the idea that "luxury is always a social construct." Reading now, maybe a few decades out, the areas where he parts ways with more mainstream thinking are so different. That said, not every point of divergence is necessarily owed to the passage of time.

Twitchell also inverts some concepts in his commentary, which I find very dubious. An example early on - this comes under a heading of "A More Sympathetic View" in his book (p.38 in my edition):

Humans are consumers by nature. We are tool users because we like to use what tool using can produce. In other words, tools are not the ends but the means. So too materialism does not crowd out spiritualism; spiritualism is more likely a substitute when objects are scarce. When we have few things, we make the next world luxurious. When we have plenty, we enchant the objects around us. The hereafter becomes the here and now.

Assumption: Humans are fundamentally materialistic. That is, given a choice, he's saying that humans prioritize material goods and comforts above all, and everything else (beliefs, concepts of a hereafter, spirituality) is merely to stand in for lack of means/possessions in our material existence. In other words, he is saying this is our fundamental ultimate; if we had The Thing, we'd idolize The Thing more, enhance it, and focus even more on it.

Mark Twain famously noted that money can buy a more pleasant form of misery, but it's amusing because it acknowledges a point we generally know and see: There are existential problems that no amount of material goods inherently solves, and the game of luxury is played in desperation. So I'd disagree with Twitchell's inversion. The material has always only been representative of what we truly want, at best, a way to achieve sufficient comfort in order to gain the conceptual goods of self-worth, security, status, meaning, fulfillment. And even if one thinks that a "next world" (heaven, if not hell) was conceptualized because a good life is out of reach for an individual human, it's rarely so weirdly narrow a vision as an eternity of creature comforts. Most concepts of afterlife concern - among other goods unachievable by increasing luxury - justice, harmony, liberty, and various non-physical concepts. I've yet to hear a conceptualization of a next world where the highest aspiration is having a sports car. At least, not seriously. We don't imbue what we have with greater luxury and no longer require the spiritual good; we lack the spiritual good and in desperation try to imbue what we have materially in an attempt to fill that gap. We make more of what we have - but Twitchell misunderstands the why.

The next assumption that Twitchell introduces in the same section talks about how consumers are "rational" and yet also aware they want the "aura" of an object rather than its literal, material use - the attraction of a brand, beyond the thing it is (shirt, shoe, bag, car, watch). " They actively seek and enjoy the status that surrounds the object, especially when they are young."

Does that not sound like a vague contradiction of his first assumption? How are all of those points bundled under one grouping (assumption #2)? It's so messy and not logical or well-defended.

Further down,

We need to question the criticism that consumption of opuluxe almost always leads to disappointment. Admittedly, the circular route from desire to purchase to disappointment to renewed desire is never-ending, but we may follow it because the other route—from melancholy to angst— is worse. In other words, in a world emptied of inherited values, consuming what looks to be overpriced fripperies may be preferable to consuming nothing.

Again, a "more pleasant form of misery," but horrifically, the sarcastic humor has become sincerity. I wonder how many people are able to genuinely embrace existentialism, "a world emptied of inherited values", rather than just diving for luxury to cover the gap.

It is not inherently wrong to produce or consume good things - I don't think any existing belief system has ever said so. Ascetic practices generally shun luxury more on the basis of it skewing priorities or being contextually or situationally unjust (along the lines of one person's over-consumption being an act of theft against another person living in poverty - because strictly material goods are, in fact, zero-sum).

I could discuss his assumptions all day, and we aren't even 1/3 in... Anyway, so far, bizarre, but interesting. Hoping he does not end up much like Harari as a writer.

[Todd Stockslager · Rating 5 out of 5]

Defining the new breed of Las Vega theme hotels as cathedrals of luxury as experience may sound sacrilegious, but I don't think it is (of course, its easier that its someone else's religion being gored, not mine!), and I know that Twitchell does not intend it to be sacrilegious.

Full of quirky and funny observations that shine with the light of instant recognition, not really about economics or luxury goods (note that they're not called "bads", says Twitchell) or shopping or Vegas, but wittily telling in all those areas in the same way that "philosophy" used to encompass politics, religion, economics, and ethics. That shouldn't be surprising given his job as a professor of English at the University of Florida specializing in romanticism.

That doesn't account for his sharp eye for detail and irony that keeps this book far from academic irrelevance, pedanticism, or dryness.

The best review I can give of this book is that I am adding Twitchell's other books on advertising, materialism, and American culture to my "want-to-read" list.

[Leanne · Rating 5 out of 5]

Best and worst from this book:
Best: Twitchell doesn't attempt to make you feel like an idiot for leading a consumer-driven lifestyle.
Worst: He does so anyway.
Throughout the book, there is the obvious pointing out that all brand names are, literally, a brand on an item. They have no inherent value aside from what society/consumer's have placed on them. a $3,000 gucci bag with no gucci label anywhere on it- would be worth $20 in today's marketplace. Assuming it's made with leather! Twitchell points out that you're buying the brand and not the product when you're going for luxury items and with that item comes an esoteric meaning. Much like, if you don't recognize the Prada logo without reading the name, you obviously aren't in "the know". I'd read it when you want to say "Yes, that's so true. these trivial things aren't worth all of that money. and yet i still want a new louis vuitton." Interesting to read either before or after Generation Me.

[Erin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Finally finished this purse book. It was good, a fine mixture of anecdote, investigation by the author and theory about why Americans adore, and, increasingly seem to require, luxury items. Twitchell gave the work depth without being too scholarly (many of the books he cited looked like they would be dull textbooks) and included many advertisements to demonstrate his points. The only thing that I thought he might have discussed more is how some items become "must-haves", but only in certain geographic areas or communities. But perhaps that is a topic for another book. Anyway, interesting and recommended.

[Kris · Rating 4 out of 5]

Twitchell has some excellent insights into the social value of consumption and is a bit of a counterbalance to scholars like Juliet Schor who tend to ignore it. Having said that, he is certainly not an advocate of our American consumer culture and his exploration of the evolution of advertising is fascinating. The book was written in the 1990s, so unfortunately, there is little discussion of the role of internet commerce, and what little there is is obviously very outdated in 2014. Still, his writing is very engaging and his analysis of the appeal of mass luxury is very informative and interesting.

[Christy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Here are the two quotes which spoke to me while I read this book:

So let’s forget any argument that happiness correlates with buying stuff, let alone luxurious stuff.

While being on the treadmill to the Land of Opuluxe may not provide happiness, not being on the treadmill almost certainly guarantees unhappiness. And discomfort. Instead of asking the haves how they are feeling, ask the have-nots.

[Yohanca Delgado]

Enjoyable, if somewhat dense, read. An interesting, erudite defense of the luxury market.

[Lori Grant · Rating 4 out of 5]

A should-read book on marketing for the knowledge worker, manager, executive, or entrepreneur.

[Erica · Rating 3 out of 5]

It was interesting to see his perspective on luxury- it was written in the late 90s or so, so it is almost a snapshot in time from that era. 3.5 stars

[JennyB · Rating 3 out of 5]

You own too much stuff. The End.