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A Nemo blog. Dealing with uncommon cents.

In the mid-1990s our friend Dave Allen published a zine called “The Clutter of Pop” (followed by a record of the same name). In one of them he wrote an essay about the glut of entertainment media choking our attention spans. I’ve long since lost the zine and I can barely remember Dave’s insights, but I do keep thinking about it in light of the ever increasing glut since its publication.

It is often said that  we only use ten percent of our brains. While that’s not exactly true, we often do only use about ten percent of its capacity at any given time. Another way to look at it is as a giant sieve. When we’re awake and alert, our brains are filtering out a vast majority of the stimuli around us. Don’t check my math, but think of it as only ten percent of the world getting in. Contrast that idea to idea that when we’re asleep and dreaming, the filters are only partially on or completely off. This makes using less of your brain — or stimulating less of it — not only an advantage, but a necessity to your sanity.

As amazing as the human brain is, it still has plenty of limitations. Some of its limitations are what have created the aforementioned glut. We externalize our knowledge and the processing thereof to free up our internal bandwidth. Hieroglyphs, language, books, keyboards, archives, databases, cassette tapes, websites, and iPods are all products of our mental offloading. We’ve emptied our heads so much that now it’s difficult to find a signal among the noise. The digital shift from bits to atoms only exacerbates the issue, problematizing the filtering process in altogether new ways.

For instance, with the impending demise of the printed page the debate regarding digital books is in full swing, following closely after that of the compact disc. Though the nature of reading the printed word and listening to music lend themselves to digitization in very different ways, there is a major overlooked similarity in the transition: The organizing principles of both are being irrevocably reconfigured.

What is a book but an organizing principle? What is an organizing principle but a filtering device? The book works for printed language just as the album does for recorded music: it filters and organizes it in a meaningful way for mental consumption. As David Weinberger pointed out, analog media like books and albums filter first, whereas digital media like websites and MP3s filter last. That is, by the time you read a book it’s been through a thorough rigorous organizing, writing, editing, proofreading, and design process. When you run a search on Google or Wikipedia, what you end up reading is filtered and organized on the fly as you request it (Wikipedia actually has an ongoing organizing process, and Facebook and Twitter are filtering digital information in still new and different ways).

None of this filtering and reorganizing means that the book as we know it is going to go away anytime soon. What all of this means is that some things that were never meant to be books will now have a place to be themselves. Let’s face it, just as some records only have one good song, some books would be better off as blogs.

Time is the one truly finite resource. If we are to optimize it, we need better filters and better organizing principles. Instead of slogging through a whole book on a topic that would’ve just as well made a decent magazine piece, we’ll read it as it develops on the author’s blog. When we want to get lost in some convoluted alternate reality, we can still read a thousand-page Thomas Pynchon novel on good ol’ paper (his newest came out yesterday and is roughly half that long).

These changes change the way we think. They literally change our minds. With more and more choices for our filtering pleasure, I believe it’s mostly for the better.

Some people just aren’t shopping at all and it has nothing to do with the recession. GOOD Magazine has just profiled five groups of anti-consumers that includes:

1. The Amish: With an estimated population of 232,000, they have a strong commitment to simplicity that includes traveling by horse and buggy, sewing their own clothing and cooking on wood-fired stoves.

2. No Impact Man: Blogger Colin Beavan has vowed to produce no trash whatsoever. Even more amazingly, he pulls this off in New York City with his wife and daughter in tow. A life without toilet paper sounds challenging….

3. The Church of Stop Shopping: 20,000 members strong, the church has members in every continent but Antarctica. They have vowed to do anything to stop ‘The Shopocalypse’ including marching down Disneyland’s Main Street and even releasing a documentary called What Would Jesus Buy?

4. The Compact: A group of friends from San Francisco teamed up and vowed to buy nothing new for an entire year. They allowed themselves to buy food, health and safety items (and underwear), but everything else was off-limits. Now close to 10,000 people strong, The Compact hosts monthly meetings.

5. Freegans: Most freegans are middle-class and well-educated, but choose to dumpster dive instead of contributing to an economic system that holds profits above everything else.

Read more on these groups here.

The Gap’s New York City concept store on 5th Avenue is adding a pop up shop of merchandise including t-shirts in an array of Pantone shades. Additionally, Pantone office supplies, books and accessories will also be available. Hurry up though because the shop will only be open through February 18th!

A few years ago, a nonprofit group called the Center for a New American Dream conducted a poll in which 81% of respondents felt that Americans were too focused on shopping and spending, while 88% agreed that our nation was too materialistic. And, this year, consumer spending declined for the first time since 1991.

In his Consumed article for the Times Magazine, Rob Walker discusses how consumer spending is finally slowing down. The recent decline has many people assuming that there is a direct relation to a new focus on personal values. Some observers feel that since people are buying less, they must be searching for a deeper meaning in life beyond the spoils of material goods.

Instead, Walker argues that it’s way too convenient to conclude that consumers have suddenly morphed into thoughtful, frugal shoppers with redefined values. He conveniently points out that at the same time spending shrunk, access to easy credit also evaporated. Home equity loans and the barrage of low interest credit cards have dramatically decreased; could this be partially responsible for the decline?

While it’s true that more consumers are bargain hunting, they’re still buying stuff. And, if they seem to be spending less, it’s probably related to fear over the volatile market, not because they’ve shifted into a more frugal mindset.

Instead of frequenting the usual high-end haunts of Saks and Bergdorf’s, shoppers are now hitting invitation-only events, private showrooms and even soirees in their friend’s houses to get their shopping fixes. People don’t want to be spotted in public buying mounds of luxury goods during these harsh economic times; they’d much prefer to be stealth about it.

Besides just shopping without the glaring eyes and guilt, women are also loving the influx of invitation-only events because they’re getting a chance to gossip and catch up with friends while spending money. A trick of many of these multi-day events is to donate a small percentage of proceeds to a charity organization, which further encourages spending without the guilt.

Even more discreet shoppers have turned their attention to the web, scouring Ebay and other high-end sites for discounted designer deals. Even with the gloomy economic outlook, there’s no doubt that major shopping is still taking place. It’s just that this time around, the goal is to not be seen or heard.

Photo courtesy of The NY Times

According to the NY Times, even luxury goods are not exempt from the faltering economy. High-end Fifth Avenue department stores including Bergdorf Goodman are luring in shoppers with enticingly deep discounts. Customers are now digging though designer handbags on tables with prices slashed upwards of 40%. The New Yorker’s Patricia Marx has even remarked that “Sixty percent off is the new black.”

Surprisingly, established luxury retailer Saks dug even deeper than its competitors, dropping the prices of much of its fall fashion up to 70 percent. Customers were so shocked that they assumed that many of the price tags were misprints.

A just released MasterCard Advisors report lists luxury goods sales as being of nearly 25% off this year when compared with last. The era revolving around the endless drive towards high-end consumption appears to be drying up fast.

The NY Times raises the question that everyone is pondering: With such deep discounts on luxury goods, consumers are left wondering what the astronomical mark-ups were in the past. And, now that they’ve witnessed these bargain basement prices, will they be willing to pay full price ever again?