I did something today that I haven’t done since the old, old days of indie yarn–I snatched up a limited edition item in a product launch.
I sat, heart racing, and refreshed a browser screen until a product popped up, and then I bought it as quickly as possible before someone else could beat me to it.
I won.
And I realized, even as I was doing it: that feeling is actually gross. The eager anticipation, the feeling of triumph. I didn’t particularly like that person sitting there, shopping with ferocity and intent.
Then I went by the related Ravelry thread, and saw all of the people lamenting desperately that they were not in time to receive said item. Someone else typed faster; someone else had already programmed in their payment details. They should have warned us that there were so few available.
I think there’s supposed to be a gentle smirk in that act of checking who got cut out; a subtle gloat that you were the one who was right on time. Instead I just feel queasy that grown women are, if they are being sincere, actually crying with disappointment about some knitting-related geegaw.
I don’t mean to mock people who are heartbroken. Instead, I see it as proof that being in communities where consumption is a valued, praised, habitual activity is inherently corrosive and infantilizing. This is why I stopped participating in knitting communities back in the height of indie-dying. I want to support individual women and their businesses, just as I don’t want to shop like it’s the most important thing in my life.
I think about that nexus a lot, and if you’ve been to my blog before you’ve seen other versions of this conversation. I don’t have an answer.
I bought a limited edition, highly-sought after thing that I can afford but only vaguely justify, from a woman whose business I admire. I will be happy to have it, and I will use it. I find, though, that the experience reminded me very much of the rotten heart of even the best-meant commerce.
I wish that crafting, of all places, could be a celebration of skill, tenacity, and understanding rather than a shopping mall on Black Friday.
Jessica Thinks 