Words Zu Anjalika Kamis Gunnulfsen
Once upon a time, you can easily spot a snob in a room. Her watch, her handbag – which could only be gotten by purchasing some other smaller items – not necessarily less expensive, but needed to be acquired. This is even before there is a possibility of getting hold of that bag that is sitting gingerly on her arms. The sleek car waiting outside – oh, and sometimes the existence of a certain postal code. These days, however, those tell tale signs can be a little complicated.
The new snob might be wearing a tee shirt brand that you might not have heard of. She drizzles her salad with a particular brand of olive oil that she has brought over from her latest travel to Puglia. That restaurant your friend used to frequent, but not anymore. This is because now that everyone have known about it, the food is not up to her standards any longer. I know of someone who knows the architect of a house even before the owner tells her. This friend even buys her wine glasses from a labour-intensive maker in Harrachov, Czech Republic, made with centuries old technique. When asked how she discovered these things, she will answer with, “Oh, I’ve known about them for years.”
Welcome to the age of Culture Capitalism, where the ultimate luxury is no longer owning something expensive, but knowing something that other people don’t.
Pierre Bourdier, was a French Sociologist and a public intellectual. In his sociological report, Distinction : A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste, he deduced that taste is not simply an individual reference. According to Bourdier, it is socially acquired and can help distinguish one group or class from another. Based on his observations, there are three different categories of capitals – economic, social and cultural capitals. Let’s take each one of these capitals and slip them in our current life for context.
Economic capital will allow someone to travel – and his social capital might get him into members-only club in Tokyo. It is only through his cultural capital will he be able to pick the best ryokan to stay in Kyoto – visit the best ceramicist and knowing why it is not polite to try and get a selfie with a Geisha. Another great example will be an art piece. An economic capital will allow the purchase of the piece and the buyer’s social capital will ensure he is invited to the preview. However, it is only through cultural capital will he be able to get the immersive bit of the art preview and one-to-one discussion with the artist – in order to buy the best piece. The currency is not just about the knowledge anymore – but it is about discovery; and best of all, discovering before anyone else does.
Six words that that carry an astonishing amount of status information, “Oh, I’ve known them for years.” Now, that is a flex!
One can have or inherit money and that very money can create connections, however, taste is personal. It suggests curiosity, education, travel, reading, exposure and experience. That is why cultural capital is such a powerful contemporary status signal. A lady carrying a logo-less bag might say she does not care about brands, but someone else who knows that bag – the one that comes from a French atelier in Nice, may understand the signal perfectly.
THE LESS OBVIOUS THE STATUS SYMBOL, THE MORE CULTURAL KNOWLEDGE IS REQUIRED TO RECOGNISE.
That being said, with the emergence of internet, social media and now AI, things might get a little complicated. For generations, cultural capital was slowly accumulated, but now, at a click of a button, the internet can teach anyone about taste and the appearance of cultural fluency. When knowledge becomes accessible by all, knowledge alone cannot grant status.
So what becomes valuable then? Not knowing that something is fashionable or in the now, but understanding why it matters.
Anyone can Google the name of the architect, but few people have stood inside the building, discussing with him on the layout or why a boulder has to be placed a certain way. The same way anyone can name a ceramicist, but not many have watched her work. In an age where information is cheap, genuine knowledge becomes more valuable.
In her book, The Sum of All Small Things, Elizabeth Curid-Halkett makes clear distinctions between those who are born into money and the aspirational class. The former almost always have accumulated likes, habits and preferences over the years and are usually kept in stealth compared to those of the aspirational class who usually feels the need to display or demonstrate wealth.Curid-Halkett points out that amongst contemporary elites, status is usually communicated inconspicuously – like choosing organic food and ethically produced goods, investing in travels, cultural education and experiences. And of course, sending their children to private or excellent schools. While these expenditures are not always apparent to outsiders, they often communicate class to people who recognise their significance.
Once, the question was whether you can afford something – now, it seems whether you know enough to appreciate it. We have now traded logos for invisible codes and perhaps convinced ourselves that the latter makes us more sophisticated. However, when taste becomes a competition, the beauty and charm of curiousness is diminished. The snobs of yesteryear want you to know how much he has. The contemporary snob wants you to know how much you do not know.
Is that progress? I am not sure – what do you think?
