Silver Spoons

It’s not only milk that some children need in this changing world. They start young on a diet rich not in calcium or protein, but luxury goods.

On a recent afternoon, I headed over to the multibrand Populo store in a local mall. As a confirmed fashion victim, I was seeking an item from Y3 label. Instead, my hunt for my latest clothing find was temporarily derailed when I came upon an unusual sight.

I found a pair of cute baby shoes for a very adult price (don’t even ask about the price tag on baby socks, designed by Yohji Yamamoto for Adidas). Truly well-heeled indeed. Still muttering to myself about the fantastic amounts some parents are willing to keep their children (and themselves) satisfied, I remembered that Gucci had also once put out a special collection for the innocent little angels who have yet to learn about the ins and outs of corruption or affairs. But I reflected that it’s still better they learn about a fine brand or two than those other sinful activities.

A few days after my shopping expedition, I attended Biyan’s 2008 show, which also celebrated his 25 years in the design business. In the book program for the show, there were several testimonials from loyal customers about Biyan’s uncommon touch. There was one in particular that piqued my interest.

“Papa invited me to have my clothes made with uncle Biyan beginning when I was six years old,” said Natasha, who is still a young girl. “The clothes are great, beautiful and nice to wear, especially the dress that I wore for my 8^th birthday party.”

Well, my childhood was certainly not as fortunate as those pretty young things who can buy Gucci and Y3. My mother made my clothes, and my sandals were the Swallow brand. As my family’s fortunes improved, I graduated to Scholl sandals (wooden sandals were an expensive purchase at the time, as were the must-have Kickers). It was still a long way in design and style from the choices that today’s youngsters from rich families have at their feet.

It seems that, in this day and age, the most meaningful education is not only found in textbooks at the best schools. It also has come to include knowledge of branded goods and quality. Parents dutifully send their children off to study in Switzerland or another chosen land, where they come to understand that they are different from their less financially blessed peers (some of whom do not even have a classroom to study in) as they rub shoulders with the sons and daughters of business potentates and royalty.

They learn to converse fluently in at least three languages, take to the saddle for the requisite equestrian skills and undergo drills in the painstaking but essential art of table manners. It’s everything the impressionable young things need in navigating the corridors of power, whose education will help them bear with pride the family name and dive right in to a life of hedonism.

It’s expected, the done thing, part of their inheritance. Parents may be strict and disciplined about life, but their children are used to seeing what their parents have, and come to understand the finer things in life.

But the worst offenders are the nouveau riche, those who suddenly find themselves living in the lap of luxury after having next to nothing in life. There is nothing wrong with having money (who doesn’t want the comfort that comes with not living from one paycheck to another) or social mobility, but suddenly they are spoiled for choice. They inevitably become hedonistic, intoxicated by the ability to buy whatever takes their fancy, even if it would have most stylists or interior decorators shaking a withering finger in horror.

The kids see their parents’ newfound riches, and their oversized spending habits, and inevitably follow along the hedonistic, gold-inlaid path. The apple doesn’t fall too far from this bountiful tree.

My hope is that one day they learn that just life, just like a balanced diet, is best lived with moderation. Because just like eating a huge smorgasbord every day will eventually lead to you waddling quickly out of this world, becoming enslaved by hedonism will eventually leave you in a very lonely place. You really can’t take it with you, no matter what the salesgirl promises.

+ Samuel Mulia

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