The Decorated Self: How We Try to Be Interesting

Inveterate people-watchers know that one of the best places to observe their quarry is the local big-box store. Climate-controlled, that habitat allows our species to exhibit itself in its full glory. Suddenly, next to the vegetables or potting soil there is an unobstructed sighting. As might be expected, cameras are forbidden; so is coming too close. No matter. Memory suffices for the truly exotic encounters. Leaving the store, we say to our companion, “Did you see that man with the ...?”

Most of us would insist that watching people at a distance in public isn’t the most grievous of sins. It brightens an otherwise functional activity like shopping for underwear or groceries. It makes one think about the lives of the people they’ve seen. But remember: Only the most foolish believe that they are the observers rather than the observed.

Note well that people tend to make choices about how they appear in public, even if that means just donning a certain shirt and pair of pants. Some of those selections transcend situations — think of the blue and green hair, tattoos from here to there, and piercings that make you cringe. Others are inspirations of the moment, like the politically outrageous tee-shirt or the crazily skimpy top.

Having been young once, I can’t pretend to be entirely unknowing of these issues. Startling presentations of self are commonly attempts to say to the “squares” or “straights” that you are not one of them. You are proud to be different. Those who are having trouble with this should get over it. Whatever their reservations, you are here to stay.

In this post, I discuss this issue of how and why we claim attention for ourselves. As will be shown, there are many strategies beyond doctoring appearance. Ultimately, those attempts share the same goal: to establish a personally acceptable place to operate in the social world.

The transformation of public culture

Like many other species, we humans are social creatures. We require groups that recognize us as members and give us directions for our lives. Within those groups, we yearn for preferred placements, identities that expand our feelings of both support and control

That tension — between social belonging and individual assertion — is found in every person and in every society. But there has been an historic shift in the degree to which people rely on long-established groups. That is the argument of Richard Sennett in his notable book The Fall of Public Man.

According to Sennett, people in centuries past were members of subgroups within society that gave them solid identities and spheres of operations. Extended kin groups were critically important. So were local communities, occupational guilds, and ethnic configurations. For the most part, individuals understood they would be treated as members of those categories. Sometimes, that meant confronting restrictions on where they could live, who they could marry, and what jobs they could do. There might be regulations — sometimes formalized as sumptuary laws — about proper clothing, weapons, titles, modes of transportation, and language.

Modern people, including myself, see this as stifling and unfair. But the old patterns facilitated a certain predictability to public encounters. People engaged with one another as representatives of their respective groups. “Random” individuals were curiosities and, more significantly, potential dangers. Courtesies — and surely, discourtesies — were formalized. Moreover, it was generally understood that things said in public were quite different from things said in private.

Nowadays that separation between private and public has blurred. People wear casual clothing in once formal settings (think of airports and churches). They adopt at-home manners in out-of-home places. Today, movie-goers expect their compatriots to talk during the film, put their legs over the seats, and let their stomachs and bladders determine the character of their wanderings. Moreover, public discourse now features themes that were once thought to be “personal” or “intimate." Political advertisements become celebrity tittle-tattle. Magazines and television programs promise behind-the-scenes, or real-life, treatments of their subjects. Social media sites reveal — with videos — things people used to keep to themselves.

Identity Essential Reads

The Psychological Impacts of Donor Conception

The Legitimacy of DEI Is at a Critical Juncture

Critically, people also are freer from those once-defining groups. As anonymous individuals, we move in and out of such settings as stores, restaurants, hotels, and sports arenas. Money is the only passport. Anything else — perhaps who we are or what we’ve done — matters not at all.

As noted above, much of this mobility and putative equality is a good thing. But it does raise the issue: how can we be seen as something more than anonymous card holders?

Seeking distinction

There are two principal ways we seek positive recognition. The first is to show our connection to some group that people generally esteem. The other is to mark ourselves off as an individual, both from the groups we belong to and from the public in general.

Because relationships in public typically feature interactions between strangers, parading one’s surname before others no longer commands much respect. Instead, people peddle their associations and interests, things they’ve achieved. For example, a sweatshirt with a university logo and mascot immediately informs others that they are a fan. Perhaps they or their child attended that school or are from that state. At least, it’s a conversation starter with those who may have the same affiliation. In much the same way, musical tastes, travel experiences, and favorite beverages are announced. A military veteran’s cap may garner a “thank you for your service” remark.

The same maneuvers occur in the parking lot, where vehicles now announce social position and alliances. As with clothing, some of these markings are group identifiers, such as political party stickers and interest-group memberships. Perhaps the driver loves birds, enjoys surfing, and has visited several of the National Parks. Notably also, cars are class-identifiers. Years, makes, and models tell stories of their own.

Much like goofy tee-shirts (“Some days I Wake Up Grumpy. Other Days I Just Let Her Sleep”), cars are commonly personalized to reveal the spirit of the owner. Curiously, few people paint their cars in crazy colors; but they do “trick them out” with fancy modifications and adornments. Dashboards fill with bobble heads; stuffed animals litter the back. “Baby on Board” signs morph into “Ex-Wife in Trunk” ones. The funniest raccoon tails and vanity plates draw chuckles. In part, these alterations are designations of the car as a home-away-from-home. But they are also public appeals, attempts by the owner to show that he or she is a clever, high-spirited, and otherwise interesting person.

Fashion and style

Whether we admit it or not, most of us try to be “in fashion.” That means keeping up with the trends in appearance, behavior, possessions, and language appropriate to the groups we identify with. Pressures to be “with it” are most pronounced among the young, but all of us feel some need to talk, act, and own like others in our social circle.

“Style” refers to our individualized way of managing these expectations. Sometimes, that means just being “ahead of the curve.” That is, we’ve already read the book or been to the vacation spot our peers are just now considering. But, and much more profoundly, it means that we can take cultural elements from our collective world and turn them into something appealing or intriguing. On us, or so we hope, that combination of clothes from the resale shop “works.” So does the blue hair. Even if you don’t like it, it’s clear we know what we’re doing here. Indeed, the fact that you don’t get it is part of the appeal.

The people I know are less inclined to proclaim: “I am a person in a dangerously anonymous world.” That is because they have a well-established social support system. Still, they want to be “interesting,” at least to their friends and workmates (two relationships one must work to maintain). Friends aren’t friends if they don’t remark favorably on your new car, couch, and dress. They should listen to your stories and laugh at your jokes. Always, we struggle to have others regard us, to prove to them that we are the individuals we say we are. Getting that attention is the challenge of our modern age