Consumerism hurts Americans
I realized in a panic last Thursday night that a good friend of mine had a birthday the next day and I hadn't even thought about getting her a present yet. After some aimless wandering in Barnes & Noble and massive sticker shock (when did a wad of fur and stuffing become a $40 teddy bear?), I decided to try my luck at Lenox later.
When I arrived at the upscale mall on Friday afternoon, I found our mass consumer culture in full swing and working overtime. Commercialism was literally ringing with the multiple ka-chings of cash registers. People milled around, swarming towards the specialty boutiques and colorful kiosks, a din of Gucci sunglasses, Hermes scarves and overextended credit.
Where could I find the perfect birthday present? There were four levels of brightly-lit storefronts displaying the most eye-pleasing, heart-tugging, reach-into-your-pocket-and-buy-me lot of goods. Everything you could ever want but never need-sleek, glittering stilettos to inspire blisters and cripple feet; the latest talking remote meat thermometer to raise that extra annoyed eyebrow at the family barbecue; plush, life-sized jungle animals with button eyes and big grins to clutter up attic space in a few weeks; fifty different varieties of chocolate stacked enticingly to widen the waistline; designer suitcases embroidered by hand so luggage can travel in style; and random other assortments of over-priced items in glossy packaging and alluring displays.
Don't get me wrong-I like malls and shopping as much as the next girl, and, like anyone, I reap the benefits of living in the land of capitalism, but how much is too much?
We as a country spend almost two-thirds of our economy on consumer goods, a figure that accounts for the fact we spend more for shoes, jewelry and watches ($100 billion) than we do for higher education ($99 billion). There are now twice as many shopping centers (46,438) in the U.S. as there are high schools (22,180), and more people visit malls every week than attend houses of worship. Every hour, another 137 acres of green space that could be used for public parks or schools is lost to "development" and ever more strip malls of concrete and plastic.
Meanwhile, the crime rate is going up, health care costs are spiraling out of control, American children are consistently scoring lower on achievement tests than children in other countries and the income gap between the rich and the poor is widening. Not to mention there are 10 million people on our streets who can't even afford to eat every day, much less pay for all the things we buy and throw out a month later.
They say we're living in the Age of Information, when thousands of bytes of data on a thousand different subjects can be accessed with a single click of a mouse, but it feels as if we're living in the Age of Shopping instead, when thousands of dollars can be spent on a thousand different things with a single swipe of a card.
These days, it seems as if anything that can be marketed and commercialized, or twisted and turned and drained to squeeze out a couple more bucks, is. Just take a look inside any store-nine times out of 10 Christmas decorations and holiday items have already been out and ready for sale since early October. Am I really supposed to worry about buying Christmas presents before Halloween? And when did Christmas become a mad dash to the cash register anyway?
I grew up in a fairly large town that nevertheless managed to keep from feeling like a corporate conglomerate. It had a great downtown area, full of picturesque tree-lined avenues and nifty little shops that were uniquely local. There were wide-open parks with glassy lakes a few minutes' drive away, perfect for lazy Saturday afternoon walks or picnics.
My family moved the summer after my senior year, and now I live five minutes away from the Mall of Georgia. The road to my neighborhood threads in between two large car dealerships, and the four-lane main street is always full of traffic, pollution and noise. The entire surrounding area feels like the commercialism capital of the Southeast, with a dozen shopping centers crammed full of chain stores. I have yet to find a park nearby.
I guess I just miss the days when life was less full of stuff. My closet may have been emptier, but I don't think I really cared. Who really needs so much stuff? And as poor college students, which of us can afford it anyway?
Go ahead, find better things to do than shop and build credit. Spend your time on something more real.
