Opinion The power in the purse strings
Leher Kala writes: The hullabaloo around Moitra’s expensive accessory is emblematic of a larger question that perplexes large swathes of humanity: what’s with women and their obsession with obscenely priced handbags?
Trinamool Congress MP Mahua Moitra. (File Photo) 
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Erudite and stylish Trinamool Congress MP Mahua Moitra countered snarky comments questioning her ownership of a Louis Vuitton bag with biting sarcasm. “Modiji sent me some of the proceeds after auctioning his 10 lakh rupee suit. I bought a handbag,” Moitra retorted on Twitter, when asked about the source of her funds. For the uninitiated, a short video of Moitra shoving her LV bag out of sight went viral; observant Twitterati gleefully pounced on the irony that at the time, the TMC’s Kakoli Ghosh Dastidar was rueing the calamitously high prices of goods, in Parliament. Moitra, an ex investment banker, remained coolly unperturbed by oblique criticisms from online bystanders; she retaliated by posting many more images of herself with the same designer bag.
The hullabaloo around Moitra’s expensive accessory is emblematic of a larger question that perplexes large swathes of humanity: what’s with women and their obsession with obscenely priced handbags? It’s worth delving into because Indians tend to get insufferably righteous about how other people spend their money. Ah, the pleasurable indignation of sneering at wannabes who derive joy out of slinging leather embossed with massive L and V initials! One needn’t be a sociologist to see these banal judgments stem from a history of wretched scarcity; lest we forget, three million Indians died of starvation in the Bengal Famine of 1943. When the lockdown began, we witnessed horrifying scenes of migrant labour walking to their villages, enduring unspeakable hardships along the way. With so much inequality staring us in the face every day, a confusing mix of envy and contempt clouds our perspective, when we think about self-indulgent extravagances.
Undoubtedly, the women who go on waiting lists for the It-bag of the season are rarely discerning aesthetes motivated by cutting edge design — mostly, they’re conforming to the ideals of success laid down by society. Is that wrong? It is, perhaps, all too human that we need signs of respect from the world to feel good about ourselves. High status, as experienced by elite athletes or Nobel laureates, is a rarity; for the majority of us, our social position rests precariously on what we achieve, which is then slyly revealed by what we possess. It’s what economists call signaling, and whether we do it consciously or not, our jobs, degrees and lifestyle, convey our significance, and our ambitions. Some years back I had profiled an enterprising entrepreneur who started a designer bag rental business with her personal collection of 24 bags. One of her young clients chose a trendy Chanel clutch to rent for a date with a prospective husband: a clear, non-verbal message establishing the standards she was accustomed to.
Let’s face it, no one’s buying a Rolex for Rs 20 lakh to tell the time or a Mercedes for Rs 70 lakh to drive at 50 kmph on Delhi’s roads. In his seminal inquiry into class consciousness, Status Anxiety, modern philosopher Alain de Botton argues that the predominant impulse behind the desire for pricey acquisitions stems from a state of insecure lovelessness. “We’re all stuck with a congenital uncertainty as to our own value,” writes de Botton compassionately, insinuating that wild spending is always a desperate bid for the world’s attention. In millennial lingo, it translates to FOMO, Fear of Missing Out. Alas, the tormenting suspicion of the existence of a rarefied parallel universe where refinement and taste reside — only for an exclusive few — is what keeps constant discontentment and luxury brands alive.
The rich get an unfairly bad rap for conspicuous consumption. But making a virtue of frugality as a morally superior way of life is equally irritating. If brand consciousness didn’t exist, we would all be driving Tata Nanos. We’re not because we don’t want to be seen in the world’s cheapest car. Ratan Tata himself has lamented the advertising mistake that doomed the Nano, that failed to recognise that consumers are deeply aspirational. At every level, complex assertions of status shape our Darwinian universe; Chanel, Dior and LV are merely convenient punching bags.
The writer is director, Hutkay Films
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