Lifestyles
Yesterday evening, I went to a large party at the phenomenally opulent Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center, where I ate well, drank well, laughed, and enjoyed a truly splendid view of the city from on high. No pictures were taken (nor were they allowed to be taken), sad to say, so you'll just have to imagine milling around, very fine (complimentary) cocktail in hand, looking out over the city as the sun sank into... well, into New Jersey, to be fair. But still. It was great.We had butlered service, splendid food, aged whiskey, genuine celebrity entertainment, the works. There are members of this place, and people who make a habit of their $200-per-person dinner-and-dancing nights (which must be absolutely lovely, but would you go every week at that price?). I left thinking (and still have this sense about me even now) that New York is such a place of opulence, a place where jackets are required and New Year's party reservations can easily top $1000.
But descend the 57 floors from the Rainbow Room back to street level, and you are suddenly surrounded by normal people. All of New York is not opulent.
There is a flip side to the normalcy below, however. The Rainbow Room is no jewel in the heart of abject poverty, no Jakartan high-rise amid the slums; it is, instead, a jewel just above and among millions of unremarkable middle-class folk, window-shopping on Fifth Avenue (and occasionally buying things), watching their kids skate at Rockefeller Center (and paying an obscene amount for the privilege), taking pictures, and chatting about the Iraq war. One is supposed to leave the Rainbow Room with my sense that this was a unique glamour, one that is unattainable by the masses. The decor says it; the dress code says it; the rhetoric certainly says it. (Just consider what is going on with this language: From the beginning, "the Rainbow Room has epitomized New York style, glamour and sophistication." It began as "an intimate establishment where the elite and influential of New York could gather to socialize over cocktails, dine on fine cuisine, dance to the strains of legendary big bands on a revolving floor bathed in color lights from the organ," and it has "flourished in quiet opulence throughout the past century by cultivating members who appreciate the nature of private clubs....") But the truth is, the vast majority of the window-shoppers and picture-takers below could easily afford a night out at the Rainbow Room if that's how they chose to spend their money. $200 is not pocket-change; but it is not crazy, either. Someone who chose to forego Time Warner Cable's triple-play package could attend one of these dinner-and-dancing events once every six weeks--but she couldn't watch the Sopranoes or the Simpsons or Dawson's Creek reruns. One could go to one of these dinners for less than the cost of a Playstation Portable--but you couldn't look hip playing that ridiculousness on the subway. You could have brunch at the Rainbow Room for less than a new pair of shoes, less than a nice shirt, less than you'd spend on admission for yourself and one child at Disney World.
America has class differentiation, to be sure--but it seems to me that this differentiation is in large part due to self-identification rather than true economic differences. I don't mean to write off the problematic, and probably undemocratic, attitudes that allow our average large-company CEO to make 500 times the salary of the average employee at their company, but I do mean to point out that we often seem to make cultural distinctions much more strongly than economic ones. I mean, a ticket to hear the Rolling Stones and one to see the New York City opera are pretty much interchangeable price-wise. You can buy a grand Texan ranch and wear flannel and a cowboy hat with your oil money, or you can buy a grand yacht and wear suits (and both are culturally acceptable, and situate you squarely within a community of like-minded millionaires). You can see arthouse films or blockbusters, and you'll be spending the exact same amount of leisure time and the exact same number of dollars.
The Rainbow Room likes to cultivate the idea that it isn't just for anybody, that it is rather for the rich, the cultured, and the important. They write as if you're supposed to mill around and smoke your thousand-dollar cigar in your waistcoat and tie, taking the spectacular view for granted and downing champaigne like water. The truth is, of course, that some people can do that, and others nonetheless have a perfectly lovely time having made the conscious decision to spend that money tonight, and still others are very pleased to spend the evening eating burgers, fries, and ice cream ($20), drinking beer ($10), watching pay-per-view wrestling ($25), grabbing a bag of chips and some dip ($7), cheering, listening to stadium music downloaded from itunes ($15), and watching their favorite stars getting bashed over the head with an unending supply of folding chairs. This is not, I note, a $200 evening--but it is a $77 evening, and it does represent a choice of cultural activities as much as brunch at the Rainbow Room or an evening in very good seats at the Lincoln Center (both of which, I note, could be had for very nearly the exact same price).
posted by Skay @ 2:48 AM
6 Comments:
John, I really and truly don't mean to deny these things. On almost all counts you are absolutely right about them (though on one of these--going to college--I do absolutely maintain that almost all Americans CAN afford it, though WHICH college is a different question, as is whether or not it's worth it). My main point was that the Rainbow Room appears to me to be more culturally exclusive than economically so. At the same time that I think the American system is structurally very unsound when it comes to health care, for example, I also think that the reason the Rainbow Room and places like it are filled with top corporate brass is much more that top corporate brass think they should go there and want to enjoy that sort of thing, while middle management and entry-level corporate drudges and doormen all have other activities they'd rather pursue. I don't think that this excludes your point that there are extreme differences in income over here--and certainly, you're a lot more likely to bust $200 on dinner and dancing if it would otherwise sit in the bank than you are if it means giving something up (and it matters, too, whether that "something" is a video game, a pair of shoes, or rent). I was very specifically trying to make a point about CLASS differentiation, as opposed to extreme income differences, however; I meant that economic differences don't actually seem to define our sense of class very well. I maintain that we tend to lump a rich dude on a yacht much more closely with a poor student who wears second-hand polo shirts and can ballroom dance than with a similarly rich dude on a sprawling ranch (who, I dare say, we tend to lump much more with blue-collar workers).
You ever see the episode of MTV's Cribs where they showed David Banner's house? "House" isn't a good word; it's more of an estate - the guy owns hundreds of acres of land in rural Mississippi. Not bad for a second-rate rapper.
I guess my point is that I was struck by how different his lifestyle was than the usual blingin' that we associate with similar rappers. Banner really just likes living at home, and doesn't have any use for the NYC or LA high-rises occupied by other hip hop artists.
I think that's a fun anecdotal example of what you're talking about. We do differentiate ourselves considerably culturally. Does this happen in other countries? I'm asking this question earnestly; I don't really know.
What I am wondering is what (or perhaps who?) took you to the Rainbow Room? Why did you choose to spend your particular $200 on dinner in the Rainbow Room?
I'm with John, economics still defines class structure as much as cultural identification—and not even the extreme poverty economics that exists somewhere within a 15-20 block radius from the Rainbow Room (also as John pointed out.) My personal economics dictate I am far more likely to be behind the bar serving the fancy people than I am to be decked out as one of the fancy people.
You listed several items that would cost as much as an evening at the Rainbow Room, and you're right, some people choose the Playstation over dinner. Others make a mortgage payment, or pay down their VISA or phone bill, or buy $200-worth of groceries because that is what their personal economics dictate. These would be the same people you're rubbing shoulders with at street level.
It's not that they wouldn't enjoy an opulent night out, and in many cases need and deserve any kind of night out, but their situation would make that $200 dinner so frivolous it is inconceivable to them.
I think people lump ballroom dancing, polo-wearing Chad in with Donald Trump and pitch Rick the ranch hand in the same paddock as the owner of the Bar U because, according to the American Dream, the one could be the other some day, either through hard work and a lot of luck or (more likely these days) through a reality show (Do you ever wonder why these shows never run out of contestants?)
Also this lumping in is a matter of perspective. I don’t believe Donald Trump counts himself in with poor dancing Chad, nor does the ranch owner brand himself with the same iron as his ranch hand, and that has everything to do with the money in their bank accounts and their ability to buy $200 dinners every week, whether in New York, Houston, Miami or L.A.
First, in answer to you, Crag, my very rich company took us all to the Rainbow Room. I paid no money out of pocket on this occasion (I don't know that that's relevent, but it might clarify MY situation here, at least).
I guess I'm convinced, John and Crag, that you guys are right. Initially, I didn't think this presented a problem with regards to my own statements--I didn't think this meant that I was necessarily wrong. But maybe it does, after all.
I'm completely willing to grant that money very often dictates opportunity in America (Canada included). I do still have a sense that we often, perhaps even usually, identify with others on the basis of their likes and dislikes more than their similar income, though. (I think, for one example, that Bush's popularity among middle-class Americans (which he very much is not and never was) stems very much from this sort of shared cultural identification.) That said, I don't think I initially gave enough credit to the way income and leisure are necessarily linked. It's true that a rich Yale-educated President's son can live a lifestyle that privileges playing baseball and going to church, but, as both Crag and John point out in different ways, it's simply not true that a pensionless cashier can live a lifestyle privileging $200 dinners and yacht trips on the Seine.
It remains interesting to me that our rich do not fit into a sort of uniform aristocratic mold that has so often characterized the economically upper-class in societies (just look at Donovan's post for color on that). And I do maintain that many stereotypically "upper-class" activities really are economically open to everybody here in America--but those are things like appreciating "great art," not things like going to swanky (and very expensive) parties. All that said, I'm very willing to grant the bulk of your points here, J & C.
I have a thought that may or not play out into this, but I'm going to throw it out there for a moment.
In so far as american classes are linked to a traditional aristocracy, the links are more explicitly economiccally based in the US whereas in many other clutures class is connected to money in concept but in reality is as much inherited with less regard to a person actual current financial assets.
This doesn't mean that class can't be inherited in the US. It certainly and often is, but it is only really maintained and proven by finances in many cases.
Now,Skay's comment about being able to choose what you spend your money on and then attend the rainbow room is certainly good in concept. But I suspect that there is much mroe to it than that. For example, I suspect that cable tv is presumed for the attendants of rainbow room evenings. In fact in order to "fit in" you would also have to be able to maintain and afford certain types of clothing, prolly have certain manners that you are unlikely to have acquired if raised in a lower-middle class household, and will speak a certain caliber of english. If you weren't raised with these, you have somehow acquired the finances to learn them.
You won't however, get into the Rainbow Room just because of your last name. In Puerto Rico, where the old aristocracy still has certina prestige, that is still the case. Even if you don't have wealth and riches anymore, people will talk about you behind your back but you will still be invited to the parties if you are the right person's child.
I will agree that there are different flavors of upper classes. i think this is however less striking if one doesn't insist on viewing the US as culturally homogenous. Different cultures show off classes differently and even within "white" america there are very distinct cultures that will show off their money differently. Furthermore, of course those cultures also end up with a hierarchical power structuring.
am i rambling?
Let's get back to the Rainbow Room's "elite" pretensions: I think a point was made that, working and non-working poor aside, there is a vast population that can afford the Rainbow Room on occasion who would prefer to spend their leisure dollars elsewhere. Sure there are those who couldn't consider the option and sure we're run by a plutocracy which cuts across lifestyle preferences, but I think it's evident that, similarly, cultural self-identity cuts across economic status. I'm surrounded at work by fellow professionals with incomes at or approaching upper-middle class. Most are first generation college grads whose traditions are Southern and blue-collar. One look at our parking lot tells you this: they don't graduate from an LUV to a Beamer, but to a $35,000 pickup or Hummer. Similar choices for the extra disposable dollar run across the spectrum. Gunoes don't graduate to day sailers but to double Merc deep sea fishing boats. A Stones concert might be even money with a night at Lincoln Center, but here the price of a stadium concert, rock or country, will get get you season tickets to the Masterworks symphony series. This isn't deep stuff but I think it points up that the "exclusivity" of a Rainbow Room is more about opting out than measuring up.
Post a Comment
<< Home