ah, elitism.
I had an interesting conversation this weekend. Matt and Catherine, acquaintances of ours, own a great design firm. These two have impeccable taste and are very in touch with the design world. Not coincedentally, their house is amazing -- stylish, comfortable, tasteful, restrained... everything I'd like in a living space. Of course, they ain't buying their furniture at the mall. They don't buy furniture, they buy "pieces" and they know who designed what piece. It's like that.
So this weekend, Matt and I were talking about putting down wide-plank hardwood floors in chez Evans. Matt and Catherine had done this at their house. And he cautioned me, with an eye roll, that after they put in their expensive new floor, neighbors would say "I love your floor! Is that Pergo™?" or "your furniture's great! I love Ikea™!". The normal people don't get it. Just something to watch out for, you know. I laughed and called Matt a design fag. I hope he wasn't offended.
Actually, our conversation left me thinking. That kind of elitism would bug me if I wasn't exactly the same way about music, or photography, or ... any number of things. Actually, that elitism still bugs me, even when it is about music. Brad starts rolling his eyes about Radiohead or some indie scenester says "oh gawd, you like metal" and I want to scream JESUS MAN GET OVER YOURSELF.
But I think I've figured out my stance. If you live and breathe something, if you've worked for years to understand or even master a specific craft, of course you're going to value The Real Thing over the Watered-Down Consumer Version. And that's fine, every craftsman should love Quality. But everyone isn't a craftsman in whatever trade it is you love so much. So how the hell should they know that their reproduction widget doesn't even have oak sides like the original? And if they like theirs, why do you care?
It took me nearly 20 years to figure this out. The mind boggles.
From now I'm going to keep the high standards to myself and stop mercilessly subjecting other people to them. My standards are, after all, for me.
(and Matt, all love and respect.)