MURKETING

I wouldn’t have bought it, but I’d never sell it

Vis a vis the recent discussion here of the endowment effect, useless stuff, and storage space: I just belatedly read (via Treehugger) this NYT piece by Joyce Wadler (a Times favorite of mine, actually), on “The Tyranny of the Heirloom.”

As hard as it may be to dispose of a piece of furniture you bought with the fellow who turned out to be your ex-husband, it is far more difficult to get rid of a piece bequeathed to you by a member of a previous generation, which carries with it not only your memories, but his or hers as well.

[T]urning your back on a grandmother’s tea set or ornate settee can feel like betrayal. Admit to your family you’re thinking of getting rid of such a piece and you’re likely to kick off a family opera, with crescendoing wails of “How could you?” Quite likely, you’ll be torturing yourself with the same question.

Ambivalence and guilt, it seems, are central elements of furniture inheritance, the anchoring pieces around which everything is organized, like the sofa in a living room. Barry Lubetkin, a psychologist and the director of the Institute for Behavior Therapy in Manhattan, has observed this in a number of patients living with inherited furniture they hate. It’s an unhealthy setup, in which people become “slaves to inanimate objects,” he says. “Once you’re defining it as something you can’t get rid of, you’re not in control of your life or your home.”

Of course, as Wadler observers later in the piece, it’s never totally that easy. Even an inherited object you don’t particularly like can be meaningful — and thus hard to part with — anyway. I certainly own a few things that I would never have bought in a million years, for any price, but because they fit into the story of my life in some way (family connection, etc.) I wouldn’t sell them for any price either.

Another great example of how tricky it is to nail down the “value” of an object.

Vuitton bag

On Arkitip.

Could you get by with 100 things?

Time Magazine reports on a guy who is trying to whittle down his possessions to a mere 100 things.

[Dave] Bruno keeps a running tally on his blog, guynameddave.com of what he has decided to hold on to and what he is preparing to sell or donate. For instance, as of early June, he was down to five dress shirts and one necktie but uncertain about parting with one of his three pairs of jeans. “Are two pairs of jeans enough?!,” he asked in a recent posting.

Time suggests this is a “grassroots movement,” although even Bruno seems surprised by that assertion. (“Now it’s a ‘grassroots movement,’ according to  Time. Wow!”) Even so, his 100 Thing Challenge is an interesting variation on the whole voluntary simplicity idea, and also on the probably more useful notion of simply thinking harder about material culture — about what really matters, and what really doesn’t.

[Thanks for the tip, Orli!]

In The New York Times Magazine: Destee Nation T’s

The Indie Look
T-shirts celebrating little-guy capitalism — or at least the idea of it.

This week in Consumed, a look at a company that sells T-shirts that at first glance look as though they advertise long-lost, or possibly imaginary, places and businesses. Actually, they’re all real.

Destee Nation is not selling nostalgia or hipster kitsch but romance — the romance of the American small business, the neighborhood diner, the old bar, the mom-and-pop shop that has managed to linger into the era of big-box chains. It celebrates little-guy capitalism with an agenda: “Let’s keep it,” the founder says, noting that every time Destee Nation sells a T-shirt, the business it advertises gets a cut.

Founded in 2004, the company now has 21 employees and sales approaching 10,000 T-shirts a month, and this month will begin distributing through a number of Nordstrom locations. “Basically,” the founder says, “we’re using fashion as a way to save local landmarks.”

Read the column in the June 15, 2008, issue of The New York Times Magazine, or here.

Special thanks to Dan W.

Consumed archive is here, and FAQ is here. Consumed Facebook page is here.

Guest Q&A: Buy-By Brian: Losing all, starting over, learning much

[Today Murketing.com brings you the latest guest Q&A, conducted by Ada Puiu, a senior at (or actually, I believe, a recent graduate of) the Schulich School of Business at York University in Toronto. Her earlier Q&As are here and here. More about Murketing.com guest Q&As here.]

I got my baby back, originally uploaded by BrokenStar57.

Imagine going to bed one night, waking up, and discovering everything you owned (from the sentimental to the practical to the luxury) is gone. This is exactly what happened to designer Brian Jones. After waking up on the day of his big life move from San Francisco to Chicago, Brian faced the harsh reality that the van sitting outside his home, filled with all all of his possessions, had been stolen while he slept. After trying in vain to recover some of his life, he decided to look at this tragedy as an opportunity — a way to reach a better understanding of what it means to be a consumer.

Since late-August 2007, the Buy-By Brian Blog (buybybrianblog.com) has been a virtual diary of every item Brian has had to purchase (and repurchase) in order to rebuild the material part of his life. Some things (like pictures or his work) cannot be bought back. But in the more than 100 entries he has written over the past 9 months, he has chronicled every non-disposable item he has bought, and has given his readers an insight into what factors influence his buying decisions (need/want, price, sentimentality, etc). In reading his entries, I’ve actually found myself becoming more aware of how much we consume as a culture, and how easy it is to fill our lives with “wants” rather than ‘needs’ – something I was always aware of as a business student, but rarely got the chance to see illustrated in a real-life way.

Brian was kind enough to answer some questions for this Q&A, giving a little more insight into what this project means to him.

– Ada Puiu

Q: If it’s true that “you are what you buy,” you’ve pretty much opened up your entire life to your readers. You even make a point of recounting things you’ve bought that may be out of the norm, or even embarrassing (the tweezers, for example). Have you noticed your buying habits change at all with everything being so out in the open?

A: Ha, yes. I debated with myself about the tweezers for a while. Surprisingly that’s probably the most personal thing I’ve purchased. That and all my readers know that I prefer briefs to boxers. A lot of the personal items people buy usually fall under the “disposables” category, which I decided in the beginning not to include in this project.

What the pluck, originally uploaded by BrokenStar57.

As terrible as it was to lose all that I did, it was extremely liberating. I actually don’t like buying things now. After seeing how simple and clutter-free my life can be, every purchase makes me feel that much more weighed down. However, this conflicts quite a bit with me writing a blog about the things I buy. Sometimes I actually feel like I should go shopping just because it’s been two weeks since I posted something.

How much of what you’ve bought has actually replaced what you used to have, and how much has been things you’ve always wanted but never got around to purchasing? Read more

Unconsumption and T-shirts

Longtime readers may recall my past musings on what I refer to as “unconsumption.” I haven’t written about it lately, but I have thought about it a lot, and particularly recently, for reasons I’ll get to in a few weeks.

I’m going to start writing about it again, sort of to revive it as a theme, and I want to start by defining the term, as I now think of it. Or rather, I hope to work my toward a definition, over a series of posts, and see if anybody has a reaction or a thought or a vicious smackdown in response.

Previously I’ve written about unconsumption as a name for, basically, getting ridding of stuff, as opposed to acquiring it. And I’ve tried to explore whether that process can entail the same pleasures and satisfactions that we commonly associate with consumption (or at least the moment of acquiring something new). Today I want to expand or reframe the definition to include: Finding a new use for something that was about to become “trash.”

A number of artists and crafty types work with discarded or recycled materials — a process sometimes called upcycling. Just today I saw a post on Craftzine about someone who makes scarves out of selvedge scraps. The Crafty Bastards Blog regularly highlights upcycling creators, like this maker of recycled skateboard jewelry, or this person who makes grocery bags out of old T-shirts.

The other day, Andy Bosselman posted about a bunch of interesting T-shirt sites, one of which has an interesting unconsumption/upcylcing variation. (I read about or someone emailed me about this site at around the same time, but I can’t remember where and/or who this on Coudal.com at around the same time.) Anyway the site is called Re-Shirt.

The idea is that people donate T-shirts. In particular, you’re supposed to donate a T-shirt with a story: “a T-shirt that someone associates with a special memory: an important career step, an unforgettable football match, a demonstration in Guatemala, the feeling of an entire stage in their life.”

An image of the T-shirt, along with a short version of its story, is posted on the site, for sale.

I like a couple of things interest me about this. First is the recognition that the importance, and value, of an object has to do with its story, or rather the way its story and the owner’s story overlap. (For a whole book of examples of what that means, see Taking Things Seriously.)

Second is that each shirt chosen for sale on the site “is given its very own orange Re-Shirt Label, a number is printed on it, and it begins a new registered life. Every future owner can now document the experiences they have with their Re-Shirt online and continue the story of this piece of clothing.”

I did a Q&A a little while back here with the folks behind (Re), who do something similar, repurposing red T-shirts with an “Inspi(re)d” logo. I’m sort of fascinated with the general concept of a free-floating logo that gets put onto already-existing objects, sort of a secondary form of branding.

I wonder if there are possibilities for the unconsumption idea in that kind of strategy …

Shaking Polaroid

Before this site existed, I did an occasional email newsletter called The Journal of Murketing. (I still do an email newsletter, actually, but it’s different than the old one.) In a December 2003 edition of the old J of M, I had this item:

[ ] The current hit song “Hey Ya,” by Outkast, and its video, are probably the best boost for the not-so-cutting-edge Polaroid brand in ages. “Shake it like a Polaroid picture,” goes a key lyric, and the video includes scenes of mass Polaroid-waving. Even when this kind of thing happens organically, you can count on branders to pounce, and Adweek reports that Polaroid marketers are now developing (chortle) a scheme “to build on the song’s popularity and channel that into a guerrilla campaign.” The idea is to get Outkast to use the cameras onstage, and to put cameras “into the hands of ‘Polarazzi.'” This fictitious class of people is of course made up of celebrities and under-30 “trendsetters.” “The plan,” writes Adweek, “is to hit high-profile events on New Year’s Eve as part of ‘The Polaroid Ambush.'” And its goal is to get consumers to use the cameras in “real, natural ways,” which apparently is always something that’s best accomplished through just this sort of transparent gimmickry.

I guess this scheme did not rebuild Polaroid after all. As you know, the company recently said it would stop making the last iterations of its instant film. (Also: A couple months after the above, Polaroid put out a statement saying actually you should not shake a Polaroid picture: “Shaking or waving can actually damage the image.”)

Anyway: Will you miss Polaroid? Brand Autopsy is asking.

Q&A: (RE)

The widely discussed Product (Red) campaign has come up a couple of times here on Murketing. As you probably know, it involves various companies such as The Gap and Apple and American Express selling special red products: If you buy one, some portion of the proceeds go to fight AIDS in Africa. It’s fair to say that the response to this has been mixed.

One of the most interesting responses I’ve seen so far is an initiative called (RE). As its creators have explained, their view is that the (Red) campaign “implies that corporations, branding and consumption are a necessary and healthy part of involvement in a cause. ” The point of (RE) is to offer non-corporate alternatives for engagement in causes — and to provoke some deeper thinking about conspicuous consumption, engagement, and solving the world’s problems. (The while the name “(RE)” riffs off “(RED),” it’s also echoed by manifestations of the project that explicitly involve re-use.)

Through February 15, (RE) is part of an exhibition called Other Options, at (106) S. Division gallery in Grand Rapids, Michigan, a show originated by InCubate in Chicago. On February 15, the creators of (RE) will auction red items, any red item at all, donated by anyone who wants to donate. Proceeds will go to charity. This is an example of the sort of thing that falls under the (RE) project.

I had a few Qs, and (RE)’s creators, Ryan Thompson and Phil Orr graciously provided some As. Here goes:

I’m curious — having read your F.A.Q. — to what extent (RE) is a response not just to (Red) specifically, but to “cause marketing” in general. (It’s become quite popular, as you know, for products and brands to “give a portion of proceeds” or “raise awareness,” etc. — from the Livestrong bracelet to … well all kinds of things).

You’re exactly right. When the (PRODUCT) RED campaign started back in October of ’06 we saw the opportunity for a timely response to (PRODUCT) RED specifically, but as we continued to expand the project we became aware of its ability to speak to much larger issues — concerns within cause marketing as well as consumption, waste, labor, etc. These aren’t easy issues to engage as a business or a consumer. That shouldn’t mean that we give up on trying, but instead that we look carefully at what supporting a cause in a particular manner does for all parties involved.

There are three (RE) manifestations, or initiatives — were they all devised at once, or did the project start with one idea and evolve to include the others? Read more

To Do in Houston: Amy Evans’ “The History of Objects”

“The History of Objects: New Paintings By Amy Evans,” November 29 through December 29, 2007. Opening reception November 29, 6-9 pm. Koelsch Gallery, 703 Yale Street in the Space City.

Things thought about: One more

Sherry Turkle, probably best known for The Second Self, has edited this book, Evocative Objects: Things With Think With, which was published earlier this summer, but that I only learned about today:

Collects writings by scientists, humanists, artists, and designers that trace the power of everyday things. These essays reveal objects as emotional and intellectual companions that anchor memory, sustain relationships, and provoke new ideas.

This volume’s special contribution is its focus on everyday riches: the simplest of objects–an apple, a datebook, a laptop computer–are shown to bring philosophy down to earth. The poet contends, “No ideas but in things.” The notion of evocative objects goes further: objects carry both ideas and passions. In our relations to things, thought and feeling are inseparable.

Sounds interesting. A companion, it would seem, for Taking Things Seriously.

A journey through the meaning of things

Speaking of taking things seriously, it’s a shame that this WSJ piece from today’s issue is available only to subscribers. A first-person piece by Katerine Rosman (who I knew slightly some years ago), it begins:

On Sept. 17, 2003, in a chaotic intensive-care ward, just before being medically induced into a coma, my mother summoned all of her energy and whatever oxygen she could to make one request: “Take care of my eBay.”

From there it goes into Rosman’s investigation of her late mother’s eBay life: the glass pieces she bought, why she bought them, the connections she made, what she hoped would happen when she was gone. I won’t recount the whole thing here, but it’s a journey, and toward the end Rosman writes: “For the first time, I was able to look at the glass as a representation of how my mom wanted me to live — not merely as a reminder of her death.”

It’s great stuff. Maybe it’ll turn up online elsewhere. Or you could always just go buy the paper.

75 things taken seriously

As a longtime fan of Joshua Glenn, I’m pretty curious about the book he has put together: Taking Things Seriously. “A wonder cabinet of seventy-five unlikely thingamajigs that have been invested with significance and transformed into totems, talismans, charms, relics, and fetishes…. The owners of these objects convey their excitement in short, often poignant essays that invite readers to participate in the enjoyable act of interpreting things.”

In all, sounds like a thoughtful take on on material culture (which is, of course, my beat, so I’m a little biased about why I think this project is such a good idea) by an interesting bunch of contributors including Paul Lukas, Thomas Frank, and Luc Sante.
I was also pleased to learn recently about Glenn’s Brainiac blog on the Boston Globe site, where he’s got a post listing all contributors and a running account of praise received.