I recently had coffee with a friend who is a few years younger than me.
He had returned from a vacation abroad with mixed emotions. Alas, the experience had not been all he’d hoped for.
Yes, he had seen memorable monuments and enjoyed some exotic cuisine. He’d slept late at a luxury hotel, a much-needed respite which his typical work schedule doesn’t permit.
He collects handwoven fabrics. He showed me photos of some extraordinary silks and cottons he’d purchased while away. He fashions them into pillow covers for friends, family, and as a small, part-time/sort-of/home/online business he dabbles in.
Anyway, he admitted that he’d made a mistake by watching too many YouTube videos that raved about this particular destination’s ‘vibrant night markets’ (touristy souvenirs, authentic handcrafted goods, certainly counterfeit luxury goods), ‘incredible street food’ (marginal in quality, dubious in hygiene, cheap in price), and ‘exciting nightlife’ (overpriced drinks, overeager bouncers, overexposed dancers.)
Hoping for historical and cultural insights, he had signed on for a walking tour, which he described mercilessly as ‘the walking dead with a talking guide’. He grumbled about the backpack/cargo pants/t-shirt/flip-flop crowd that had nudged their way into his five-star hotel breakfast buffet.
Typical first-world problems, one might say. But more subtly, I suggested that, five-star hotel and exquisite fabric acquisitions aside, he might have to admit that he was no longer the demographic for a lot of what was marketed to the public in general as ‘a good time’ or a ‘good deal’.
“I’m not old!” he protested.
“Neither am I,” I countered, “but maturity is not always chronological.”
I explained that what’s mass produced and mass marketed to the masses may have seemed like something great to see, fun to do, and cool to buy at one time. But now, it’s not.
Once we accept that something’s changed, we can examine exactly what that is: we grow up, our tastes change, our priorities shift. In short, we are no longer the demographic that vendors target with their ad campaigns, public relations efforts, or travel videos.
When we allow ourselves to believe the hype, we end up disappointed. When we outgrow something, we feel sad and maybe nostalgic. Neither one of these scenarios is a crime. They just happen.
He digested this explanation, nodding thoughtfully, then bounced back to how fabulous the fabrics were, how delicious the food was at one restaurant he’d found, and how warm and friendly the locals were.
He kept it positive, which is one of the things I really like about him. But the lesson wasn’t lost: he had changed. He liked different things now.
As an advocate for the Old Money way of life, I hear comments along this line often: people withdraw from being ‘consumers’. The continuous carousel of retail products on offer no longer holds any interest for them. They feel confused and a little empty. Then they find things to ‘invest’ in: experiences, activities, relationships. Life becomes richer, fuller, more satisfying.
Uncomfortable as it might be, we must be vigilant: if we’re not enjoying something, if something ceases to have meaning for us, if something’s not ‘worth it’ anymore, we must honor these feelings. We must, quite simply, think about it and figure out why.
Then we can consider our options, make different choices, and continue to make the most of our time here on the planet.
- BGT
What’s an example of a non-5 star OM vacation sans monuments?
It reminds me of a saying that real luxury is custom, and that includes life experiences.
Great article. There’s a lot of wisdom in that and it reflects a lot of what I am experiencing at the moment
Very insightful. Reminds me of going to Starbucks to get my wife a hot chocolate on weekend mornings and see all the boy dads in their athlisure. Also, my church, where the music (loud with no hymns) and attire is targeted directly at the same demographic, not the 50+ who are supporting the congregation. Of course, perhaps the youngers won’t come otherwise. But even when I was in that demographic the attire was respectable. Just look at a 90s episode of ‘Seinfeld’ and see how Jerry, George, and Elaine dressed: chinos or slacks with button down and tucked in shirts, business outfits for her. But to make a dollar, main street will always cater to the masses: just look at Brooks Brothers current offerings. The post gives me the feeling that thins have changed forever, and I have to realize that I am no longer the target. Although, I had a nice remembrance of how things out to be while watching the US Open tennis yesterday and seeing former champ Jimmy Connors sitting in the stands while wearing a dark suit and tie. Way to go, Jimbo. But compare that with the slouchy sleeveless T shirt of the men’s champion. Hats off to Wimbledon for keeping standards high. Thanks, Byron, for this post: enjoyable, real, and well-written.
Well. A photo reveals that Connors was wearing jeans below that suit coat and tie. But still . . .
This reminds me of an interview I came across several years ago with Grace Slick (yep, that Grace Slick), who observed that we are (hopefully) not the same people at 50+ that we were at 20 or 25. Nor should we be. Maturity and changing tastes get short shrift in my view. Not surprising, but there we are.
Kind Regards,
Heinz-Ulrich
This post helped me process a recent experience at a favorite Victorian hotel that my husband and I visit every summer we possibly can. It’s where we got engaged. It was owned by three generations of one family until it recently sold to a corporation. The family ownership had loyal employees who’d worked there sometimes 35 or even 40 years, as displayed on their nametags, and were happy to chat with you about the hotel. Now you can’t find anyone who has worked there for more than one year. The dress code, once strictly enforced, is now only enforced in the dining room after 6:30, so spandex and flip flops are everywhere. And the small pool, once hidden by tasteful shrubs, has been enlarged and had a sound system added, so while you once sat on the long porch to gaze out at the lake, now you have to gaze out at the lake over the pool with rock or country music blasting from the speakers below, and it kills the Victorian appeal of the hotel. The quality of the food has declined, and the poor staff seemed really unhappy and stressed. My husband and I really didn’t want to admit these things to each other, let alone ourselves (!) but when we finally talked about it, we both agreed it’s just not the same, and much as we love the building and gardens, this post has helped me understand it’s time to move on.
Do you mind sharing the name of the hotel? You have made me curious.