Leaves and Petals

Maybe it’s because of my background in vintage clothing, but I’ve noted on more than one occasion that people dress too darn casually. Jeans, ballcaps and those hateful flipflops make Torontonians look like slobs as they walk down our city streets. There was a time when no one would be seen in public without a proper hat, or gloves, and where “dressing up” wasn’t so much about putting on a clean t-shirt but actually dressing appropriately.

Which is why it was so delightful to see people dressed up at the Santé wine event we attended last week at the Carlu. Men wore jackets, crisp shirts and polished shoes. Ladies arrived in a variety of pretty dresses – not evening gowns, but something a bit more dressy than they’d wear to work.

Of course, odds are it was the venue that inspired the lack of jeans and sneakers. The Carlu event space is the former restaurant and auditorium of the old Eaton’s location at Yonge and College. Abandoned and left to deteriorate for decades when Eaton’s moved south to the Eaton Centre in 1976, the space was restored to its 1930s glory in 2003.

Also known as “The Seventh Floor”, the Art Moderne design by architect Jacques Carlu is a breathtaking example of the architecture of the time. The Auditorium had played host to greats like Billie Holiday, Frank Sinatra and Count Basie, while the long hallway separating the auditorium from the Round Room restaurant was meant to resemble that of an ocean liner.

Today the space is fully restored, right down to the original Lalique fountain in the Round Room.

With the buzz of wine aficionados sipping merlot and chardonnay, it was easy to stand at the entrance of the Round Room and picture something out of a 1930s film, to imagine Joan Crawford sweeping past the fountain in a sequined gown, or Joanne Woodward lounging in one of the alcoves sipping a cocktail. The ladies at the wine event we attended weren’t quite that decked out, but I have a suspicion that they would have been if they thought they could get away with it. I know I would have donned a gown just to sashay across that room and pretend I was a starlet.

Over the past few years, I’ve watched almost everyone I know buy a house – or talk about buying a house. They’re still doing it, despite the near-record sales prices, and no one seems to believe the logic that they’d be better off waiting. They want it now!!

In this month’s Utne Reader there’s an article by Charles Montgomery, which originally appeared in the Canadian magazine The Walrus. Turns out, Montgomery discovers, the desire for a bigger house, with newer and flashier amenities, is hard-wired since caveman days.

Evolutionary theorists suggest that the hunter-gatherer who is oriented to dissatisfaction, who compulsively looks ahead in order to kill more game than he did yesterday, or more than the Joneses in the cave next door caught today, is more likely to pass on his genes. This is part of the reason we’ve come to assess material success in relative terms. like eyes, which perceive color and luminosity relative to surrounding objects, the brain constantly adjusts its idea of what it needs to be happy. We compare what we have now to what other people have, and what we might get next, and then we recalibrate our measure of happiness.

Montgomery writes this in a piece about buying and renovating a huge house in which he ends up with roommates and boarders in order to afford the place. He hopes that the housemates will create a sense of community and trust, but it takes a special type of person to live in a roommate situation, especially once they’ve reached middle-age.

The desire for bigger and better crosses all realms – think flashy cars, designer clothes, private schools. And as much as I can see that I’m a part of this phenomenon, I also can’t help railing against it. I plot my dream house in my mind, then come to my senses and remember that I actually love my little apartment and the freedom it offers me. I see a pretty dress in store and pine for it, despite the fact that I have plenty of clothes to wear.

And of course, businesses depend on our desire to have more and better than our neighbours, whether it’s a bigger house, nicer car or greener lawn. Our brains feel the competitive urge and retailers are more than happy to help us out – for a price.

But it’s wise to keep in mind that we don’t have to follow the urges of our hard-wiring. With no desire to pass on my genes, I don’t need the traditional trappings of middle-class life. Granite countertops or a big-screen TV are not necessary to move me further up the status ladder, either in the search for a mate or in providing for offspring.

I’ll never be a monk, but consciously living with less, particularly when the less is more than serviceable, seems like a better life goal than accumulating lots of stuff. That our brains are wired to accumulate and have more than our neighbours is an unfortunate physiological flaw that pretty much guarantees we’ll be constantly searching for happiness in the aisles of some store, or it the real estate section of the newspaper.