"Where've you been, Linda?" I asked, though the rustle of tissue being unwrapped from newly purchased goods was unmistakable, even over the phone.
"I've been shopping," Linda said. "Ask me what I bought."
"What did you buy, Linda?"
"Three hand towels. Ask me how much I spent."
"How much did you spend, Linda?"
"Six hundred dollars."
Since this conversation, I actually have used Linda's $200 hand towels. They're nice. Are they $200 worth of nice? Maybe I'm betraying my lowly origins here—I could sleep on a mattress stuffed entirely with peas—but I'd have to say no. Linda's towels feel no better to my untrained epidermis than towels that cost a tenth as much. I can't help wishing she'd bought $20 towels and sent the other $180 per towel to the good folks in Darfur.
But Linda is proud of her towels, as she is of everything in her home, for the sole reason that everything in it costs a mint. Her definition of high quality is synonymous with high price. Now, this can be a useful calculus: Often the most expensive item really is the best. But people like Linda spend vast amounts on cons and crap, too—and as a result, they can end up in a heap of financial trouble.
While the stark modernism of his furniture is striking, sitting on it is about as comfortable as being repeatedly struck in the backside. Bruce's art collection (enormous full-body photographs of an elderly man wearing only a hat) is dreamlike, but not in a good way. Even Bruce feels uneasy in the space. However, because the concept came from a designer he respects, Bruce grits his teeth, keeps his eyes off the full Monty, and thinks he is living well.
Conceptual value comes from what we know about an object rather than what we experience with our senses. It's what makes Grandma's wedding ring more precious to us than an identical ring owned by someone else's grandmother, or what turns snapshots of loved ones into precious treasures. It also makes many of us stretch our budgets to buy designer-name items or shop from high-end suppliers, since a lowlier design or store tag makes us fear being déclassé.
If everything in your home has to be explained or identified to impress you or your social circle, then get out of your mind and into your body. What does your skin feel when you touch a certain fabric? What about it makes your eyes widen? What scents and flavors make you sigh? If such things happen to have historic significance or designer labels…well, that's fine. But don't make choices based only on concepts in your head—it's your whole body that lives in your home.
That's why I remind myself to pay attention to other characteristics such as quality. Considering what the object means, where it comes from, and how other people value it are factors that help me feel proud of my home and excited to let others experience it.
Before buying anything for your home, whether paper cups or roofing, ask yourself three questions:
- Am I spending enough to feel that I'm treating myself well, but not so much that I feel the manic panic of the compulsive shopper?
- Do I like the things my mind associates with this object, or do the concepts feel shallow and soulless?
- Am I striking a balance between what my body enjoys and the need to connect with culture and fashion?
Take the quiz and find your quality IQ!