How compelled we are to buy little things, needless things, useless things even, just for a change. A new thing, anything different, a coffee from Colombia to save us from the routine of home-supermarket-home. Like an impulse, a death wish: sacrifice it, kill it, spend it! And the electric aura lasts for a few hours, just enough to land safely in the couch, it’s all fine - traceless poison.

The landscape in Finland is a sacred one: the country had to fight for the territory numerous times. That makes the soil a sacred one: don’t litter it, don’t harm it, don’t destroy it. The respect paid to it was build, most certainly, as a reminiscence of war. In my home country we have never had wars. People take our land for granted, as a responsibility of the governments, that never do enough. A history of territoriality disputes cast the care of the land over the land itself (and not over property, not over the owned land). 

I was watching through the window a middle age man and a woman in front of my apartment. The gestures subtly denounced an intense courtship, disguised as trivial conversation. Without hearing the words I could stick to what mattered: gestures, smiles, body language. His stronger attitudes were replied with avoidance, just so that she could state the pace of the flirt. Her avoidance would then be dissolved to the initial stage where she attracts him, but not too much. His gestures with hands, taking more space, stating how strong animal he is, were followed by her (she is also strong), who would always end up pointing to him, the dominant part. As I approached them passing by, there was a need for me to be acknowledged into the conversation: not as a leading, but as supporting role; I should not cast a shadow on the male that was courting the female, but I should be present enough to see them — I had to see them, or else the courtship would lose its importance, its beauty: the world was not impressed by it, they were not in the spotlight even when performing the timeless ritual, therefore their reproduction was not admirable, it was not desired by the world. I had to briefly admire them, in the least, see their faces for a second (or when I would leave the scene the power would leave with me, and in a couple the dominant part has always to be the strongest part in the whole world: if not the strongest, at least respected). A court is always a happy thing, an inspiring ritual, it is the promise of perpetuation.

There is something incredibly perverse, and thus it is what makes some people feel especially powerful, in spending a great deal of time, effort and money in extremely superficial matters — the art, science and craft of perfecting it to the limit, of finding the proper balance, matching the right color and, finally, comparing the achievements and compositions with peers that are interested in the same. All this, of course, should come with sprezzatura (a forgotten concept of the XVI Century created by Baldassare Castiglione): everything should look effortless, everything should come easy, in order to look smart, wise, strong. Anything that demands too much effort is simply a task for a professional, not for the noble man).

From the Facebook profile pic of a friend.

I’ve always thought of boredom as one of two essential positions in life: nothing is interesting against everything is interesting. Like Blur x Oasis: upper class versus working class. 

Beyond class conflicts, to me it has always been impossible to think that nothing is interesting. At least until we figure out what is the origin of the Universe (the meaning of life is less important than that question, at least in theoretical basis). Until that is answered, to me there is little space for being bored. Furthermore: the chance of being hit by an airplane at any given moment, the chance of a nuclear war, the chance, chance. Very little space or time for being bored.

But then, again, here is the counterpart: we cannot know the origin of the Universe and you are not researching it — you can be bored. If you are hit by a truck, that was it — nothing else, nothing much. If the world is blown away, so be it — at least it is a change. Now, a lot of time and space for being bored: except that there is so much going on (the arts, the culture, science? no — a lot going on Facebook, for instance). TV after TV, status update after status update — how chilling, riveting is to know about my friend’s lives! So there is very little space or time for being bored — and that’s exactly the boring part.

Being bored used to be the alienation of those who had everything and wanted to do nothing. Nowadays, people do nothing all the time — they are busy with a lot of nothings! No spacecrafts being build, no rockets to new planets — the billions are in social networks and little photographs we call friends. So being bored is counter-revolutionary: being bored may be the best one can do.

‘Despair’, by Alex Prager.

When it comes to the vintage, there are a few matters-that-might-matter to explain why people are so fond of this aesthetics, to the point of annoyance. Hipstamatic App, for instance, is dedicated to simulate old, analogical photography (what a sad fact is that a Starbucks coffee decorated as an old jazz bar is more efficient and comfortable, and even more complete in its style, than the real old jazz bar).

As the spelling software is reminding me (and one person pointed out, like the software) “vintage” is an adjective. I take it, here, metonymically as a word that refers to the vintage aesthetics itself — as in Julia Kristeva’s essay about “the abject”, preceded by “the”. I thought it was a bit weird to say “the vintage” all the time, though. But as English is not my mother tongue, I took the advice. 

When it comes to the love of the vintage, one of the reasons I see, and perhaps the most simple one, is the fact that the past is a safe place. Whenever one depicts someone or someplace from the past, it is a memory, a safe, and utterly warm place that was brought to the present time. The fact that “the past is a safe place” is nearly common sense. But I say warm due to the also known fact that memory is nothing but an obsessive behavior: from the immense stream of past memories, a special one was chosen to travel to the present time. More than safe, the old image is strong: as it survived time, we are impacted by its resilience; we may even submit/succumb to it.

Another reason relates to the power relations of the world we live in. Who is ruling the zeitgeist? To step through this thin ice analysis, I place myself in the early 2010s. Why is it that the 70s are, mostly, what we understand and cultivate as “vintage”, now? A possible answer should be that the rulers of this time are, themselves, in their 40s or 50s. The officers, the executives, the CEOs of companies, brands and institutions that so commonly name and brand what is ‘style’. These people (empowered by these institutions) may relate to things from their own times and, thus, create an agenda that celebrate, ultimately, themselves.

Lastly, the young adults (or late youth), that is, those in their 20s and 30s, may experience a coming of age that to an extent conforms to the overall establishment. In this sense, what is celebrated are those who raised them. One is becoming one’s parents, it’s that simple. Finally, the understanding of the forefathers’ decisions, opinions, culture: it is the actualization of an inheritance, being it culture, establishment or counterculture.

Cultural choices find meeting points: after hearing about the Beatles, the Rolling Stones or Bob Dylan, one can grow enough to understand and love them. But that is not the essence of the vintage, though. Mankind may love the Beatles for the next 200,000 years, and what was good may remain always in style (art is supposed to be timeless).

As anything considered trendy, the vintage is like a fever: it comes, it is passion, it goes. In the case of the vintage, the cycle is renewed in every generation. Hence the rising lights being thrown over the 90s, as the X and Z generations step up to rule the consumer sphere (in a few years, they will be ruling the zeitgeist themselves, and the time lapse between one step and another in the ladder of power is, as we can see in the news, getting shorter).

The vintage is the love of what is old: as they become their forefathers, they also experience a degree of decay; the frailty and despair of losing youth. The vintage, in this sense, is the celebration of what seems to be ageless, timeless — it is merely old, but loving it makes it feel that decay and aging is good, elegant or tasteful.

So, in a nutshell, there are here four reasons for the vintage: 1) the past being a safe place; 2) the agenda of CEOs highlighting their golden times; 3) the consumer coming-of-age conforming to previous models; 4) the celebration of what is aged, for the one who celebrates it is also aging.

There might be nothing new about the vintage: it’s always been there, it’s always been in us.