From CHARLOTTE ALLEN
Thanks to Ron Epstein
It was the $380 “bona fide horse-riding boots” that got me clued into the simple life. There they were, sleek, polished to the sheen of black pearls, and taking up an entire page of Real Simple magazine. “You’ll never want to take them off,” the accompanying copy promised. It was the first time I’d ever picked up Real Simple, the women’s magazine that distinguishes itself from other women’s magazines by its lack of tips for getting rid of belly fat, its Zen-lite self-help pages (“learn to live with uncertainty”), and its tastefully minimalist layouts characterized by snowdrift-sized expanses of white space. Here’s a food article picturing six balloon-sized Brussels sprouts scattered over the page and not much else. There’s a photo essay featuring elegant mothers and their poetically posed toddlers that actually seems to be about hand-tatted lace, which appears in the foreground or background of nearly every picture. And here’s one about jewelry crafted out of the original brass door numbers at New York’s Plaza Hotel – the pin goes for $260. I closed my issue of Real Simple, stuffed with equally tasteful and equally minimalist ads for wines, Toyota Priuses (the automobile of choice for simple people), and many, many wrinkle creams, and thought: gee, all this simple living can set you back.
Welcome to the simplicity movement, the ethos whose mantras are “cutting back,” “focusing on the essentials,” “reconnecting to the land” – and talking, talking, talking about how fulfilled it all makes you feel. Genuine simple-living people – such as, say, the Amish – are not part of the simplicity movement, because living like the Amish (no iPod apps or granite countertops, plus you have to read the Bible) would be taking the simple thing a bit far… More at InCharacter→