In a comment a while back, Elena pointed out that Diego Velázquez’s painting “Infante Felipe Próspero” (from 1659) provides a good example of how pink was acceptable for males to wear…as were, in some cases, dresses, which the young prince is wearing:

Elena says,

…until the late 1700s little boys would wear dresses or petticoats for as long as they could until they could dress as miniature adults…This was mainly for ease of bodily functions.

Of course, today most parents would be appalled at the idea of dressing toddler boys in dresses–dresses with frills and ribbons, at that.

The painting “Pope Innocent X,” also by Velázquez (1650) shows the Pope in light pink clothing:

Both images found at the National Gallery’s Velázquez page.

You might also check out Kent State University Museum’s Centuries of Childhood exhibit for examples of how children’s clothing has changed over time.

Thanks for the tip, Elena!

Simon O., who sent in this ad for high-speed internet, tells us that the text reads “just suck it down.” He also tells us that the Austrian government pulled the plug (so to speak) on this advertisement.

But seriously… there is good evidence that pornography has driven a great deal of the innovation in communication techology since… well, since communication technology existed.  Here’s a Guardian article on how it’s doing so even now.

Ben O. brought our attention to this set of vintage ads (from Found in Mom’s Basement) that all use images of Black male servants.

This one for Cream of Kentucky bourbon was illustrated by Norman Rockwell. I can’t quite figure out what the expression on the Black servant’s face is supposed to convey:

Miller Beer:

Cream of Wheat:

Glider shaving cream:

Part of the text reads, “Why did Grand-dad so often take the trouble to get water from the rain barrel for his shave?” For some reason I have a feeling it wasn’t Grand-dad getting the water.

Thanks, Ben O.!

In STRATOS, “the premier in-flight magazine for corporate and private jets,” I found this two page article (text below):

Selected text:

High Dollar Highballs

STRATOS travels the globe in search of $1,000 cocktails in another installment of the world’s most exclusive cocktails.

…

Burj Al Arab, the dreamy, sail-like hotel on the water in Dubai, surely serves one of the most impressive… runs about $7,500. But when you factor in the cost of the ingredients, it almost seems reasonable. Start with a healthy pour of The Macallan 55 Year Old Single Malt Scotch… bottles… sell for $15,000 or more… The drink is stirred with a hand-carved piece of wood salvaged from a Macallan oak cask and presented in a Baccarat tumbler of 18-carat gold…

Hotel de Crillon, one of the loveliest hotels in Paris, has a beautiful lounge where barman Philippe Olivier offers perhaps the ultimate Sidecar for $1,600… this version opts for the creme de la creme of Cognac: Louis XIII Black Pearl, a special edition of Remy Martin’s long-aged signature bottle selling for about $30,000…

Master Mixologist Tony Abou-Ganim created Between the Sheets ($10,000) for Eyecandy Sound Lounge and Bar, the lounge at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas. A slug of 200-year-old British Imperial Navy Rum gives this drink its kick, while a pour of Hardy’s Perfection, a rare and expensive long-aged Cognac, provides the subtle flavors… This drink is, naturally, made for two. The bartender assembles it in a sterling silver shaker and strains it into a pair of Baccarat crystal glasses… The lucky couple, once the last drop has been drained, takes home a cherry wood box, complete with engraved name plate, holding the shaker, the glasses and a crystal decanter.

An argument:  Because of the way we are segregated by class in the U.S., people rarely mix socially (pun intended) with others very far outside of their own social class.  For me, paging through magazines aimed at the super rich (see other posts from them here, here, and here), is kind of like flipping through Maxim.  There’s a whole world out there that is not aimed at me and of which I am largely unaware.  The segregation that nurtures this ignorance is part of what sustains our complacency.  Most of the time I can be completely naive to the entitlement to extremes of luxury that is marketed to the very rich, like I can remain blissfully unaware of what they are saying about women and men in Maxim magazine.  Political sociologists suggest that it is not deprivation that incites revolution, but relative deprivation.  That is, not having much doesn’t cause people to resist the system, it is the realization that others have so much more.  As long as we remain unaware, the system is likely to continue unchallenged. 

Maybe it doesn’t even make sense to say that we are segregated by class.  Class does separate people, but it also brings them together.  Working and middle class people are brought directly into interaction with people of other classes when they clean houses, are hired gardeners, and work as receptionists, administrative assistants, nurses, and nannies.  And it has often been this way throughout history (think slaves, indentured servants, etc).  So to say that we are segregated might be a stretch.

I also don’t know how I feel about this argument in light of the rash of reality shows that have emerged over the past 5-10 years that depict real, honest-to-goodness rich people basking in luxuries that most of the viewers could never afford.  Not that (I think as I write this) reality shos are all that different from the non-reality shows that have been on TV for a very long time that depict extreme wealth (e.g., Dynasty).  Do we not, on some level, recognize that those people, at least those in the reality shows, are real?  Or do we identify with them over and against people of our own class?  (I described how this might work in a previous post on McDonald’s coffee.)  Would actual physical integration (insofar as it doesn’t exist) have a different impact on us than the integration that occurs on between us and our television screens?  Or does our current social climate challenge the tenet of relative deprivation?

Asked another way, given that I am a sociologist AND watch TV, why do I still find the stupid article about expensive cocktails so surprising?

Ben O. sent in this poster (from Found in Mom’s Basement), which uses images of Native Americans (or First Peoples) to encourage Canadians to contribute to the Canadian Patriotic Fund, which was set up during World War I to support wives and children of enlisted men:

It’s a great example of the white/non-white dichotomy, where whiteness implies morality while darkness/blackness is associated with evil or immorality. In this case, his heart is “white” (i.e., he’s a good, moral being) because he does the right thing by caring for war widows. I guess the morality of his act overpowers the misfortune of his skin tone.

Thanks, Ben O.!

On a side note, I’m off to Oklahoma for the next 12 days. I’ll still be posting–Verizon’s internet access program means I can get a weak signal even at the farm–but I won’t be able to check in on comments as often as usual or update posts with information commenters or readers send in.

You will most likely not notice any difference. Just be aware that when you insult me, it’ll take a little longer before I know about it.

Cheers!

Norms of masculinity include prescriptions to pursue sex. Taught to expect women to resist, “real” men supposedly work around refusals instead of taking them at face value.

In light of this, some sociologists argue that rapists are not non-conformists (somehow deviant), but hyper-conformists. Rapist are men who take rules of masculinity to their logical conclusion.

When I discuss this in class, I show this Gucci ad:

The clean-cut, clear-headed, well-dressed, all-American young man looks calmly and confidently into the camera, while the woman looks as if she is drunk, or drugged, or both.  Barely able to stand, holding onto her shoes, her dress falling off… Has she just been raped or is the rape yet to occur?

And does the imagery in this ad suggest that a (potential) rape scenario is mainstream in America, un-remarkable, even fashionable?  If so, what does that say about the depth of our rape culture?

Speaking as a 30-year-old who still cherishes a threadbare, 29-year-old specimen, I can personally testify that teddy bears are objects highly charged with affect in modern U.S. bourgeois white society. Along with blankets, stuffed animals are frequently given to young children to play with. Many times, children grow attached to their animals and blankets, naming them, talking to them, sleeping with them and taking them everywhere.

In 1951, Donald Winnicott called such stuffed animals and security blankets “transitional objects.” I’m probably grossly simplifying this, but he posited that transitional objects occupy an important position in children’s emotional lives as mechanisms by which they soothe themselves as they differentiate their identities from those of their parents. Parenting advice emphasizes that transitional objects are part of a “normal and healthy phase of development” and even a “good thing” that parents may want to voluntarily introduce to anxious children.

In short, modern middle-class bourgeois white society associates teddy bears with a deep emotional connection between people. Teddy bears symbolize comfort and a nurturing parent-child bond. To many, they are images of love.

Over on its Web site for investors, Vermont Teddy Bear literally capitalizes on the “bears=love” connotations by couching its business in terms that suggest relationships and closeness. In this screenshot from the investor relations home page, for example, you can see that the over-the-phone sales staff are called “Bear Counselors,” suggesting that they give advice and mentoring about relationships.

On the page entitled “Our Bear-Gram Story,” Vermont Teddy Bear positions its product as equivalent to the emotional work of creating and sustaining authentic relationships. The “story” says:

Once upon a time, people connected with people simply and directly. They took the time to nurture personal relationships. Then it all got crazy, fast-paced, and hectic and people didn’t have time anymore to pay enough attention to other people.

Of course, the thought that it was so good back in Ye Olde Non-Hectick Tymes is problematic, but so is the thought that teddy bears will suffice instead of “pay[ing] attention to other people.” Why expend all that effort relating to someone when you can just toss him or her a teddy bear instead?

On the company’s site for customers, the same association between the toys and love appears, as evidenced by this banner proclaiming the teddy bears as “heartfelt,” an adjective usually used to describe significant declarations of sentiment:

For occasions that require difficult, emotionally draining “relationship work,” there’s even a whole category of “I’m Sorry/Apology” bears available to send.

The I’m Sorry Bear comes with the following descriptive copy:

Whether you’ve broken their heart or their favorite coffee mug this Bear has got it covered. Holding a light blue pillow embroidered with the an “I’m Sorry” message and wearing a matching light blue bowtie, this Bear is a sure way to earn their forgiveness.

Ah, what price forgiveness?

Well, it’s $73.95. [Shipping and handling excluded. Insurance and rush orders extra. Please ask for international rates. Customs taxes may apply outside U.S. Order early to insure delivery by Christmas!]

I suppose that Vermont Teddy Bear’s deployment of a stuffed animal to do your emotional work for you is in the same category as ad campaigns for diamonds and credit cards that promise viewers intimacy through purchase of the products. However, Vermont Teddy Bear’s use of the “objects will fulfill you” trope is slipperier in part because a substantial number of potential consumers have experience with teddy bears as transitional objects that did [or still do] make them feel happy and calm.

In an amusing postscript, I grew up in Vermont, where we were kind of expected to support Vermont Teddy Bear Company. But when someone gave my younger brother a Vermont Teddy Bear as a gift, he never touched it. Finding the bear stiff and kind of lumpy, he preferred to drag around smaller and more squishable stuffed animals. No one else in the family was impressed with its cuddlability, not even me, and I was the one who collected stuffed animals to line the edges of my bed every night. The bear is now sitting on my mom’s desk as a display item, having not created an emotional connection at all.

This, dear reader, is a pound of Kopi Luwak Arabica coffee, for sale here:

You can buy a pound of this gourmet coffee for just $180. If you’re on a budget, you can get 2 ounces for $40.

Now, you may be wondering, is it worth it? Should I spend so much for coffee? Luwakcoffee.com believes that it is:

Yes, the coffee is expensive, but so are all of the better things in life. You have to pay more for quality or uniqueness. This is a class issue: part of what you are paying for is exclusiveness, the knowledge that not everyone can afford a Chanel bag or Christian Louboutin shoes or Kopi Luwak coffee. Its inaccessibility to the masses is part of how you know it is worth having. And from this perspective, Kopi Luwak is quite desirable: at most 1,000 pounds or so make it to market each year, which makes it so expensive. It’s so desirable, it was included in the 2006 Emmy Awards gift bags for celebrities!

Now, at this point an ignorant but aspiring gourmand might ask, “What, pray tell, is so special about Kopi Luwak coffee? What is this ‘unusual phenomenon’? I’m so anxious to know!”

Why, my dear, the beans for your coffee were eaten by a civet and then handpicked out of its crap to be brewed into coffee for you! It’s terribly adventurous, isn’t it?

What, don’t believe me? Here is your Kopi Luwak coffee, pre-handpicking (image found here):

Delicious! If you’d prefer to buy it in this form (called “natural” coffee), you can buy it that way too. [For the record: I will never be able to eat a Payday candy bar again.]

In researching this topic for you, Reader, I found many properties ascribed to Kopi Luwak coffee. It is supposedly lower in caffeine than regular coffee because the civet’s stomach acids digest some of the caffeine. Or something. It’s supposedly less bitter and has less of some protein or other, and that’s why it tastes so much better. One researcher said it is “earthy, musty, syrupy, smooth and rich with jungle and chocolate undertones,” although I question how much better it can taste since “[though] certified blinded human tasters could find little difference in the overall flavour and aroma of the beans, an electronic nose machine could detect that the aroma of the civet coffee beans is also affected.” I’m glad a machine thinks they smell fantastic.

Why did I decide to post this on Soc Images? Well, one, the pure absurdity of it. However, there are some sociologically useful things you could use it for. One might be to discuss food and our cultural taboos on food. My guess is if you had students make lists of things they’d never, ever eat, no matter what, and then made them slowly pare them down based on the assumption that they were starving, people might give in and say, “Ok, I’d eat a slug,” but few people would say “Fine, I’d eat poop if I had to.” I could be wrong, but I think most people would see eating another animal’s fecal matter as beyond disgusting. And yet here we have an example of people doing it under no duress (that I can see) and considering it a delicacy.

I suspect that students would then express horror and shock at the idea of drinking such coffee, but you might then point out that many of them probably eat the product of an animal’s digestive tract somewhat regularly: honey. Bees digest pollen to turn it into honey. It could lead to a nice discussion of how we come to think of foods as normal or disgusting, and why we might continue to eat honey and think it’s just fine, since we’re used to it, but think people who eat beans picked out of civet poop are gross.

Of course, you could also use it as an example of how, if it is sufficiently expensive and difficult to find, anything can be labeled a delicacy and sold to upper-middle-class yuppies. Even wild cat* crap.

*Not really a cat, though it’s called the civet cat.

Gwen Sharp is an associate professor of sociology at Nevada State College. You can follow her on Twitter at @gwensharpnv.