reflections on reflections
This afternoon I became immediately intrigued and inspired by a post by cbertsch (who never really ceases to inspire me and is probably the number one reason that I was able to remain motivated enough to graduate from college) in which he began to ponder the impulse to consume media inspired by nostalgia. What began as a comment on his entry quickly became long and arduous and no longer seemed to respond to his original well-worded thoughts, so I am posting it here.
I spend a lot of time thinking about nostalgia, especially at this time of year. Perhaps it's due to Jewish rituals that require remembrance, but I spend a lot of time thinking back, rather than ahead. This could be a character flaw, rather than an observance.
There is absolutely no doubt that we live in a society where nostalgia has become a marketing tool. No longer is fashion repeating itself on a twenty-year cycle; instead anything that once was is again. The music industry is flooded with throw-backs and a group isn't good if they can't be compared to someone that did the same thing years before. Movies that were made years ago are being made new (albeit poorly). Video game designers are using old characters to sell new games. To rephrase the cliche, everything new is old again.
Obviously, this marketing technique is successful; if it wasn't, the marketing geniuses would move on to something new. Why it is successful is another question entirely. Is it the desire to be young again that drives us to purchase the My So-Called Life box set on DVD? If so, why does it sit on the shelf once it is purchased? Are our desires to reconnect to that time period satiated by purchase alone, or is there something deeper?
Perhaps, it's more than the attempt to purchase the fountain of youth in digital format that drives media sales. Maybe it's an attempt, perhaps subconsciously, to re-experience things for the first time. That is to say, when I purchase My So-Called Life, I'm not really interested in being twelve again; instead, I yearn to feel the things I felt when I was twelve and feeling pre-pubescent stirrings for Jordan Catalano and Angela Chase. Maybe the reason that we are content to merely possess these items (in lieu of actually watching them) is that we know that those feelings can never be recreated. Jordan Catalano became a skeezy Seventies Olympian and Angela Chase got far too skinny.
That isn't too say that we can't find ourselves instantly transported to a time that existed before through a media vehicle; it's just that those trips are short-lived and come with a disproportionate price tag. Although, perhaps you can't put a price on that subconscious response.
I have seen the subconscious response manifest itself in others, and it's almost Pavlovian in intensity. My husband* lost his father when he was six. I say he lost his father, but I must admit that I hate that phrase and all other euphemisms for death. Prior to the death of his father, he watched a LOT of Sesame Street and The Muppet Show. His mother fondly recalls how, at nine months old, she would sit him down and he would actually watch Jim Henson's creations. His interaction with media prior to the death of his father was limited, due to the fact that they didn't have cable, so deep down inside of his brain, his life with his father is explicitly tied to these shows.
Fast-forward twenty years. This man, that I love so dearly and who really doesn't cry about anything (which can be extremely frustrating at times), can be brought to tears by Jim Henson's Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas. I've watched him as he watches the media of his early years, and I can visibly see him transported to his youth. For this reason, I can almost guarantee that we will purchase any special Jim Henson-related box set that ever comes out, even if it only sits on a shelf.
Of course, this still doesn't explain why 12-year old girls are wearing T-shirts with Pat Benatar on them or the success of the band Jet with the pre-teen set.
*I asked M for his permission to write this, and he graciously gave it to me. I would never write about anything personal without his permission, and I think this needs to be known.
I spend a lot of time thinking about nostalgia, especially at this time of year. Perhaps it's due to Jewish rituals that require remembrance, but I spend a lot of time thinking back, rather than ahead. This could be a character flaw, rather than an observance.
There is absolutely no doubt that we live in a society where nostalgia has become a marketing tool. No longer is fashion repeating itself on a twenty-year cycle; instead anything that once was is again. The music industry is flooded with throw-backs and a group isn't good if they can't be compared to someone that did the same thing years before. Movies that were made years ago are being made new (albeit poorly). Video game designers are using old characters to sell new games. To rephrase the cliche, everything new is old again.
Obviously, this marketing technique is successful; if it wasn't, the marketing geniuses would move on to something new. Why it is successful is another question entirely. Is it the desire to be young again that drives us to purchase the My So-Called Life box set on DVD? If so, why does it sit on the shelf once it is purchased? Are our desires to reconnect to that time period satiated by purchase alone, or is there something deeper?
Perhaps, it's more than the attempt to purchase the fountain of youth in digital format that drives media sales. Maybe it's an attempt, perhaps subconsciously, to re-experience things for the first time. That is to say, when I purchase My So-Called Life, I'm not really interested in being twelve again; instead, I yearn to feel the things I felt when I was twelve and feeling pre-pubescent stirrings for Jordan Catalano and Angela Chase. Maybe the reason that we are content to merely possess these items (in lieu of actually watching them) is that we know that those feelings can never be recreated. Jordan Catalano became a skeezy Seventies Olympian and Angela Chase got far too skinny.
That isn't too say that we can't find ourselves instantly transported to a time that existed before through a media vehicle; it's just that those trips are short-lived and come with a disproportionate price tag. Although, perhaps you can't put a price on that subconscious response.
I have seen the subconscious response manifest itself in others, and it's almost Pavlovian in intensity. My husband* lost his father when he was six. I say he lost his father, but I must admit that I hate that phrase and all other euphemisms for death. Prior to the death of his father, he watched a LOT of Sesame Street and The Muppet Show. His mother fondly recalls how, at nine months old, she would sit him down and he would actually watch Jim Henson's creations. His interaction with media prior to the death of his father was limited, due to the fact that they didn't have cable, so deep down inside of his brain, his life with his father is explicitly tied to these shows.
Fast-forward twenty years. This man, that I love so dearly and who really doesn't cry about anything (which can be extremely frustrating at times), can be brought to tears by Jim Henson's Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas. I've watched him as he watches the media of his early years, and I can visibly see him transported to his youth. For this reason, I can almost guarantee that we will purchase any special Jim Henson-related box set that ever comes out, even if it only sits on a shelf.
Of course, this still doesn't explain why 12-year old girls are wearing T-shirts with Pat Benatar on them or the success of the band Jet with the pre-teen set.
*I asked M for his permission to write this, and he graciously gave it to me. I would never write about anything personal without his permission, and I think this needs to be known.