All that glitterati is not gold

The lives of the rich and famous appear regularly on page 3 of the Times of India. Society high-fliers, corporate czars, movie and television stars are splashed all over the page in their designer outfits, bracelets, rings branded sunglasses and bags. The media captures this insane activity of these wealthy individuals, who suffering from a deep sense of insecurity, try to access that inaccessible pedestal of success, bordering on oblivion, under the delusion that this represents star status. Amidst this high decibel cacophony of calendar and product launches, my mind drifts back to another era.

Forty years ago it was easy to spot the “upper crust “of society, the affluent had a touch of class, their countenance radiating raw power, serenity and wisdom. They knew how to enjoy the good life to its full potential. Luxury life style though synonymous with opulence was far removed from the gaudiness that is prevalent today. True they held on to the traditional trappings of luxuries, the colonial mansions, the fast cars, race horses, paintings, sculpture, yachts, country villa’s with wine cellars and a bevy of trophy mistresses in every city. Yet theirs was not a wanton indulgence fuelled by a reckless desire to flaunt their possessions, rather it was a quest for heritage, perfection, for intrinsic quality, history, and a sense of sublime fulfillment.

The old aristocracy had years of breeding genetically hardwired and instilled in their social structure. They would move in hallowed circles and only be seen in the old Burra sahib clubs, where waiters were addressed as “stewards” or “boys” and if they dared to dine in a hotel it had to have tradition, class, and elegance like the Ritz Carlton or nearer home The Taj. Their mansions had baroque furniture and deep pile carpets; crockery was Dresden china, a pinewood fireplace, exotic out of season flowers and fruits, walls adorned with paintings from old masters, sculptures, teak wood study and a retinue of servants oops sorry retainers.

Weddings and banquets were tastefully carried off in a pageant like fashion with the hushed muted clinking of ice in glasses, where a 20 year old scotch whiskey from a cut glass decanter melts the ice, or pink gin in bohemian glasses are held cloyingly by ladies amidst swaying crystal chandeliers and the men in tweeds, carry cigarette tins, use Ronson lighters to light up the filter tipped navy cut cigarettes, and the heady elixir of smoke, perfume and raw power wafts in the air in a scintillating and stimulating experience and the enchanting memory of the evenings follows you into slumber.

Time marches on and today when you observe the “novae rich” revv up their style quotient, cavorting in garish coloured sequined dresses, Armani jackets flaunting garish jewellery, imitation crocodile leather shoes, gulping vodka, tequila shots or swigging beer from cans you can’t help the déjà vu creeping in. How times have changed can be seen by observing the page 3 circus act, where they desperately throw money around to purchase their 5 minutes of fame. The penchant for glitter, ostentation, to outshine the competition in every possible gaudy manner is rephrensible. Sophistication and etiquette seem to have been sent back stage as all sorts of events, inaugurations and product launches are used by this new breed in race to hog the limelight and garner eyeballs on TV and print media, a Teutonic shift in values dramatically portrayed by the “ time poor” lifestyles of the wealthy brat pack..

The old aristocracy had elegance, breeding, grace, style and all the time in the world to follow their hearts, whether it was golf, polo, bridge or the pursuit of arts and philanthropy.
They would demand more than outward beauty from the luxury products were more selective and would never buy flashy jewellery, furniture or penthouses. They would seek outstanding craftsmanship, innovative design and form, contemporary functionality and top grade materials were sought to create life style accessories that re-inforced their image. They always used to inherit their mansions, jewellery and furniture and if ever required, would be specifically designed and custom made to their esoteric tastes right down to the monogrammed crest or insignia.
There was something special and elusive, you cannot define class or breeding nor buy it; it’s a combination of various subtle and intangible things with blue blood coursing through their veins. Corpulence was a sign of success and they were not squeamish about sex and children as opposed to the dinks. They had heritage, a certain pedigree, a sense of history and always sought out a product for its aspirational value, assurance of quality, like the Belgium mirrors, sheer magic of couture like designer furniture, the Buick, Cadillac or Alfa Romeo for its character and sound engineering, even the grand clocks that adorned the hall had to have precision mechanisms even though they were masterpieces of horology, buying a product as a status symbol would be a dreadful gaffe.
Now luxury means different things LCD TV, home theatre, salad shooters, dishwashers, cell phones, Blackberry, and branded clothes are flaunted in your face to show that the “poor little rich boy” has arrived. Old mansions have given way to glass and concrete skyscrapers, all have a BMW or Mercedes that look like clones, yet one can discern the emptiness despair and sterility in their lives, as they blindly follow the herd with the lethal comforts of convenience and luxury that money can buy.
The formerly affluent scions of old wealth cannot venture into this brave new world and maybe the old money is tired, that’s why it cannot measure up with the new rich to quadruple their wealth with a new found vigor or zeal for a temporary high, their mindset cannot be changed and will slowly disappear like their degree of legitimacy to this title, prime real estate and blue chip stocks. So the new rich and famous will carry out the reckless pursuit of fame and class, adding, Jacuzzis, penthouses, and by sporting Yves St Laurent, Polo, Armani, and Diesel he assumes the language of the sartorically dumb. It also reveals the huge insecurity and personality sadly subsumed by the label/brand of the manufacturer, as his status is relegated to a moving animated display, advertising the marketed image of the company .As they say success depends on being able to anticipate change, priorities will change, there’s a green environment and conservation movement out there gathering momentum. As my hairline and bank balance begin to recede, let me indulge in a little luxury – for me it means sitting by a fireside with a few friends sipping the amber stuff, enjoying the banter and solitude of the night, a few pieces of roast pork or shavings of white truffle on a simple dish of pasta. As I dip my Mont Blanc pen in nostalgia my minimalistic taste has a different take on luxury – it means simply turning off the cell phone, leaving e-mails unanswered and savoring my scotch whiskey.