"...Friday's personal-income report showed that personal
income, which includes wages, interest and government benefits,
rose a faster-than-expected 0.7 percent last month. It was
the biggest gain since a 0.9 percent rise in November....
In a separate report, sales of new single-family homes rose
in June to a seasonally adjusted rate of 929,000 units, better
than forecast, the Commerce Department said."
This bit from an Associated Press story in The Oregonian
ran in late July, under the headline "Reports show U.S.
economy thriving." But really it could have run any time
in the last half of the '90s, in just about any paper in
the country. Reports of the nation's financial good fortunes
aren't just the news of the day--they're the news. That
headline has been reconfigured and republished so many times
in the past few years, the average 12-year-old probably
thinks Greenpeace is a Woodstock-style music festival hosted
by the Federal Reserve Chairman: Alan Greenspan Presents
the Money For Nothing Tour!
It could give a guy a complex. While the stock markets
leap, frolic and tumble effusively, like thespians in a
Busby Berkeley picture, I earn steadily, steadily along.
No ups, no downs: flatlined economics. My personal income
includes, well, my personal income. When I need to seasonally
adjust, I put a sweater on.
Finally, I feel I've languished long enough among those
whose palms are ungreased and unPiloted. I've devised a
plan. No, I haven't joined the ranks of deranged day-traders
or masters of their own domain names. I simply aim to Act
Rich and Live Well. It's a three-pronged attack.
DRESS RICH
This is essential to stepping out of the cheese and
into the upper crust of the doughy pie. Women should think
"old money" when putting together a look. Holly Golightly
big-brimmed hats, three-quarter-length coats, cigarette
pants, fur stoles, faux pearls and clever scarves can easily
be secured at thrift and vintage stores. Fellas have it
a little tougher. The problem with most thrift-store
suits is the fit. Hart, Schaefer & Marx and Joseph Banks--the
makers that dominate the second-hand suit market--clearly
had the chops. They cut numerous wicked-cool threads years
ago. The trouble is, some other guy's been wearing them
in the interim, and they've gone all funny in the crotch
and chest. The key to looking wealthy is good tailoring.
You figure if you're only spending 20, 25 bucks on a suit,
another 15 or so to make it fit is well worth it.
Polo oxford shirts are an enduring emblem of monetary success.
They can be found by the shopping-cartful at Goodwills and
Value Villages all over town.
Shoes are another matter entirely. Here is one area in
which you cannot fudge it. Bite the bullet and spend a minimum
of $85 for a slick pair of kicks. This is the reason Costco
was invented. Buy an 18-gallon drum of peanut butter--half
a year's sustenance--to help facilitate the shoe splurge.
SCAM STUFF FOR FREE
My proudest moment in this department
occurred far from home. My girlfriend and I were traveling,
post-collegiately, across Europe (using suitcases on wheels,
mind you, not those horrid backpacks bulging like mini Tom
Arnolds, the type favored by scruffy, liquid youth). One
day, while waiting for a train, we wished to visit the London
Zoo. Unwilling to dole out the 9 pounds per, or whatever
the hell it was, for admission, I lit on an alternate plan.
I explained to the zoo's manager that I was a writer with
a very important film magazine "on the other side of the
pond."
"The Filmist is doing a millennial story on how
the zoo has been featured in American films throughout the
century and I have research to do, my good fellow. I'm interviewing
Kubrick. Her? She's my photographer."
Similar scams can be engaged in to extract discounts on
plays, movies and haute cuisine. A quick wit, after all,
is free to those who can afford it, very expensive to those
who cannot.
It is also important to identify the perks of your job.
If, for instance, you work in journalism, keep an eye out
for free tix to the opera, theater and films. Volunteer
to review restaurants that serve dessert wines. If you're
a barista, tell people cryptically that you work in the
imports-exports business and carry a thermos of chai.
Although not exactly a scam, befriending employees of an
Internet startup company is generally a good idea. Not only
are these poor chaps greatly pal-deprived, they probably
have coastal rentals you can occupy July-September. A smooth
icebreaker with this set might be, "And to think, for years
I thought an Initial Public Offering was something my dog
did on our walks. Ha!"
RATIONALIZE, RATIONALIZE, RATIONALIZE
Look around your apartment. How much have you spent
on the things you see? The micro? The telly? The bed? These
are items most people throw down serious dough for, but
if you're like me you've spent next to nothing on them.
Perhaps you've pulled the Big Borrow, a scenario in which,
over time, something mysteriously becomes yours: "So I'll
just use this computer until I get my own, 'K?" Maybe you've
simply frustrated friends into giving you an answering machine.
(Or perhaps you were lucky enough to work for Jesuits. When
a friend of mine quit her job as receptionist at a Jesuit
school, they gave her a used car as part of her severance
package.) How these goods have become yours is not the point.
The point is, they're yours, and you haven't spent a nickel
on 'em. Thus, thousands of dollars have been freed up. Now,
instead of spending them on things you need, spend them
on things you want. And please, spend frivolously. Sure,
the RR (Real Rich) count every penny--that's why they're
rich, for god's sake--but part of what makes being FFP (Faux-Financially
Phat) fun is that you can actually enjoy money. I say: Dine
with Donnatella! Linger over linguine! Exfoliate in excess!
If all this makes me sound deeply shallow, then good. I've
successfully juked my liberal, progressive, lower-middle-class
upbringing. For many people, that is the highest hurdle
to clear in order to enter the rarefied realm--however spuriously--governed
by men whose names begin with Langhorne and end in Esq.
One's morals and deep-rooted beliefs can be a painful splinter
to extract. But the discomfort dissipates quickly and sweetly
enough, like lips made sore from too much kissing. So pucker
up, good people, and bid adieu to the pimply cheek
of poverty. The free market has been calling. Didn't your
personal assistant give you the message?
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Willamette Week | originally
published October 13,
1999
|
