I doubt any of you will be surprised to learn that I watch a lot of HGTV. I watch all the shows, pretty much, and would watch even more if we hadn't canceled our premium cable package. I love all renovations shows, and indeed, my childhood home was a renovation project, so my early years were sort of like growing up with the property brothers. My whole family just really loves real estate: going to open houses was a regular Sunday afternoon activity in my family. And then I met Josh, who works in real estate, and so the love affair continues.
All this to say: I understand real estate aspirations! What I do not understand, however, is the idea of a "dream house." I also do not understand the idea of a "dream job," but I'll get to that in a minute.
The people on HGTV shows are constantly talking about their dream house. The most fascinating part, for me, is that they all seem to have the same dream. They want an open floor plan, they want 3-4 four bedrooms, they want to stay in their current neighborhood (unless they are on House Hunters International), they want a "master" with a spa-like bathroom. They all have a very specific price range, but are OK with blowing past it so they can have the Carrera marble or the gas fireplace or the wine fridge they have their heart set on. And, most annoyingly, they are always ecstatically happy with the final result. They are so happy they cry.
After a few episodes, watching people achieve their dreams so consistently ends up feeling pretty oppressive. I start to think these people's dreams must also be my dreams. Suddenly, the popcorn ceiling in my apartment brings down my mood. My parquet floors begin to nag at me. The laminate counters in my bathroom become unacceptable. If only I could do a renovation! Then I too could be living in dreams!
Then Josh turns off the TV and insists we go outside, and I remember that I actually like my apartment. And then I walk around the block and remember that I don't have dreams about housing at all! I dream about living in Paris, I dream about getting a call from Marilynne Robinson asking for my opinion about an essay she's writing, I dream about writing a bestselling romance/mystery novel under a clever nom de plume, I dream about reading all the Platonic dialogues in order, but I don't dream about houses.
And just a few weeks ago a friend inquired about my future job plans, and when I replied without much gusto I was told I that I need to conceptualize my "dream job" in order to achieve my full career potential. When I insisted that I have never once dreamed about working, she was somewhat taken aback. I don't have a dream job—I have dreams about what I would do if I didn't have to have a job.
This conversation irked me, and I realize now that it's for the same reasons that people crying with happiness when they see new hardwood floors irks me. The whole point of dreaming is that it's not real! Why would you dream about bathroom tiles when you could dream about your long-lost great-aunt bequeathing you a palazzo in Italy? Why would you dream about working when you could dream about stumbling upon buried treasure and only doing whatever you want for the rest of your life?
I do understand that most contentious people have goals, and those goals may include getting particular jobs, purchasing certain houses, and acquiring specific wine fridges. Good for them! But I sincerely hope their dreams involve more interesting flights of fancy.
Then again, I've never cried with happiness about anything, so maybe I really just need to loosen up and take more pleasure in interior decoration.
All this to say: I understand real estate aspirations! What I do not understand, however, is the idea of a "dream house." I also do not understand the idea of a "dream job," but I'll get to that in a minute.
The people on HGTV shows are constantly talking about their dream house. The most fascinating part, for me, is that they all seem to have the same dream. They want an open floor plan, they want 3-4 four bedrooms, they want to stay in their current neighborhood (unless they are on House Hunters International), they want a "master" with a spa-like bathroom. They all have a very specific price range, but are OK with blowing past it so they can have the Carrera marble or the gas fireplace or the wine fridge they have their heart set on. And, most annoyingly, they are always ecstatically happy with the final result. They are so happy they cry.
After a few episodes, watching people achieve their dreams so consistently ends up feeling pretty oppressive. I start to think these people's dreams must also be my dreams. Suddenly, the popcorn ceiling in my apartment brings down my mood. My parquet floors begin to nag at me. The laminate counters in my bathroom become unacceptable. If only I could do a renovation! Then I too could be living in dreams!
Then Josh turns off the TV and insists we go outside, and I remember that I actually like my apartment. And then I walk around the block and remember that I don't have dreams about housing at all! I dream about living in Paris, I dream about getting a call from Marilynne Robinson asking for my opinion about an essay she's writing, I dream about writing a bestselling romance/mystery novel under a clever nom de plume, I dream about reading all the Platonic dialogues in order, but I don't dream about houses.
And just a few weeks ago a friend inquired about my future job plans, and when I replied without much gusto I was told I that I need to conceptualize my "dream job" in order to achieve my full career potential. When I insisted that I have never once dreamed about working, she was somewhat taken aback. I don't have a dream job—I have dreams about what I would do if I didn't have to have a job.
This conversation irked me, and I realize now that it's for the same reasons that people crying with happiness when they see new hardwood floors irks me. The whole point of dreaming is that it's not real! Why would you dream about bathroom tiles when you could dream about your long-lost great-aunt bequeathing you a palazzo in Italy? Why would you dream about working when you could dream about stumbling upon buried treasure and only doing whatever you want for the rest of your life?
I do understand that most contentious people have goals, and those goals may include getting particular jobs, purchasing certain houses, and acquiring specific wine fridges. Good for them! But I sincerely hope their dreams involve more interesting flights of fancy.
Then again, I've never cried with happiness about anything, so maybe I really just need to loosen up and take more pleasure in interior decoration.
9 comments:
That is an aristocratic position. You evidently do not understand the discreet charms of the bourgeoisie.
Adam Smith actually does explain why people dream about kitchen flooring (assuming you understand dream to mean "deeply desire and covetously imagine" and not literally dream) in Theory of Moral Sentiments. I think it's pretty persuasive.
I've never cried with happiness over anything either, but if I found my "dream house" - which has more to do with how this house would enable the preferred version of my life than with marble- I might cry.
MSI: Yes, you are entirely correct, this is an aristocratic position. I enjoy the discreet charms of the bourgeoisie as much as the next upper-middle-class girl, but I refuse to believe they are the highest goods. Also, I have not read The Theory of Moral Sentiments, does Smith really talk about kitchen flooring?! I need page references, please.
Alex: I mean, I can't argue with that, you are free to cry as you wish! But I think you have a goal house, not a dream house. Your dreams are probably a lot loftier (and more unlikely) than your goals. Which, I think, is how it should be.
Oops, here is correct link: http://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/2620#lf1648_label_160. It's something like Alex's claim, actually. The very convenience of nifty material goods fires up our imaginations, makes us envision our own lives as vastly improved by [insert kitchen item here] and so great becomes our longing for the item that will so vastly improve our lives that it begins to appear to us as actually beautiful. Then we get it and use it once and discover that it's a pain to clean and move on to longing for the next great thing that will revolutionize our lives.
My dreams are more about things that are auxiliary to and made possible by the house, not necessarily material items within the house. (Schools! Walkability! Transit! Cozy neighborliness!) But the materials of the actual house also matter in the way you describe above, Rita. I imagine the yard necessary for children and dog to frolic, etc., and how that would improve my life. Marble not necessary.
Smith is just trying to describe why we desire to acquire material things, so it's not limited to gadgets. His point is we don't actually love the things, but the vision of ourselves living comfortably with these things, and it's that vision of life we're pursuing when we work to acquire the things themselves. You can probably extend the logic to neighborhoods, subways, etc. They evoke images not of themselves in isolation (eg, what a beautiful subway car!), but of our beautiful lives in them.
That sounds right. And Julia you're right that those are goals. The dream is a lake house in Italy with no pesky 9-5.
What Smith is describing is exactly what bugs me, not because I think material things (or the beautiful lives we envision with them) are bad, but because people seem to think that material things are ALL that's important. I'm sure that a lot of the people on HGTV are otherwise miserable, but they seem to truly believe that the house is perfection and it will solve problems just by being theirs. What bothers me is not the house, but that they think the house is the highest good possible. Apparently this attitude does not bother Smith? But you have convinced me to read more Smith, so I will go find out.
Also, yes, I agree with you Alex, I too want all the things you listed as goals. And when I'm dreaming, I want the lake house in Italy. But now I can start dreaming about a vineyard in France because if you have the lake house we can just visit each other. Ha.
He thinks it is foolish but inadvertently useful, since the pursuit of stuff contributes to economic growth, which increases everyone's standard of living. But if you don't want to be a fool, you will become aware of this human tendency to lust after stuff and strain against it, though he thinks it's pretty hard not to ever perform this mental conversion of object into image of yourself benefiting from object.
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