The Living Thing / Notebooks :

Artisanal poverty

Masters of the universe({filename}/images/catgirl_luxe.gif) by (Cat and Girl

It used to be that cultural capital and economic capital were separate spheres, and absolutely not interconvertible. There were no cool rich kids, or those who were hid their economic capital. (The word “cool”, in fact, originated with socially and politically disenfranchised African-Americans; in its original meaning, the word didn’t mean chic, fashionable or at the top of the status hierarchy, but referred to an unflappability, an unwillingness to let the constant low-level (and not so low-level) insults and aggressions of an institutionally racist and classist system be seen to get you down; as such, it was, by definition, the riches of the poor, the exclusive capital of those excluded from capital.)

[…]with the dismantling of free education, the rise in income inequality, and the gentrification of “cool” areas full of the young and creative, […] soon it was a good thing that having economic and social capital didn’t bar one from cultural capital, because having a trust fund was increasingly a prerequisite. If Mater and Pater bought you a flat near London Fields for your 18th birthday, and if you had a reserve of money to spend while you “found yourself”, and the likelihood of being able to land an internship on a career track in the media once your Southern-fried-hog-jowls-in-katsu-curry food truck failed or you got bored of playing festivals with your respectably rated bass-guitar-and-Microkorg duo, then you had the freedom to explore and develop, and that development could take a number of forms; travelling the world’s thrift shops, picking up cool records and playing them at your DJ night, spending the time you don’t need to work for money getting good at playing an instrument (and recent UK research shows that people in wealthier areas tend to have better musical aptitude), or just growing a really lush beard. With the rolling back of the welfare state and the “race to the bottom” in wages, these quests for self-actualisation are once again the preserve of the gentry; it’s rather hard to develop your creative voice when you’re on zero-hour contracts, and spend all your time either working in shitty jobs, looking for work, or commuting from where you can afford to live. And so economic capital has colonised cultural capital, and what passes for “cool” now belongs to those with money.