By Rawlins Gilliland, KERA 90.1 commentator
Dallas, TX – Growing up in Dallas, I saw no small amount of Big Money. However, contrary to myths about oil fortunes and splashy flash, most Dallasites, pre-1980, were not interested in showing strangers how they spent money. In fact, pretentious traits were rebuffed with contempt, dismissed as "ostentatious" - meaning showy and vulgar displays of materialistic acquisition, or "declasse" or "nouveau riche," those whose pricey toys attempt to smokescreen a lackluster past.
"Class" referred to those whose manner and appearance exercised an inbred discretion, and "understated" was an attribute one sought to have applied to oneself. So it was logical that Los Angeles would be the running joke; that Mecca where mindless migrant masses made in-your-face flaunting a spectator sport, using their money - or credit card limits - to convince one another that they were stars, where you were judged by your car. Sound like anyplace you've lived lately?
What's happened to the common-sense sophistication in well-bred value systems? Where the word "humble" meant gracious and magnanimous, not "poor," as the word has come to be commonly used. Of course it's human to be more impressed with a company president than a Wal-Mart greeter. But what genuinely frightens me is when I sense the condescending classism that makes an elitist feel inherently superior to those whose lives are less well-positioned. We've evolved from striving to acquire things and achieve goals for private pleasure, into a perverse public pursuit of status symbols as a barometer of worth.
There seems to be no acknowledgement of the futility and irony of chasing whatever is perceived rather than genuinely valuable. Case in point: the Prada backpack, an $800 affluent-must-have only eight years ago. Today, even new and unused, these once hot see-and-be-seen accessories go begging on eBay for $10 bids. Like Beanie Babies, can we doubt that today's $400 Versace sunglasses will be a dress-up play toy for tomorrow's grandkids?
Last year, a friend and I hopped on the DART for an inaugural ride. We ended up at the end of the line - Ledbetter. Recognizing that this was hardly Highland Park Village, to deflect attention, she concealed her Chanel handbag in a reversal of upscale Dallas protocol. I said that no one at the station was likely to recognize it, and, if they did, they'd assume it was fake. Or more likely, I've learned, fashion taste being highly subjective, they'd probably just wonder why someone would spend $1,500 on a purse.
I think about Stanley Marcus, the epitome of "Old Dallas." A consummate connoisseur, but never a snob, despite selling the opulent and rare, Mr. Stanley thumbed his nose at hyped marketing - where a common house in a "good" neighborhood was considered preferable to the home he built in a "lesser" sector. He defined class, in part because he never lost the common touch. Stanley Marcus understood how a successful someone might be seen driving a Ford Focus rather than a Ford Excursion, simply because they feel they need no more. Or perhaps, because they think that $30-40-50,000 they saved looks better to them in the bank than it does rolling towards some jaded crowd and yawning valet parkers.
Rawlins Gilliland is a writer from Dallas.