Wild About Writing

At first, I felt a sense of mild disgust as the hefty 104-page insert DINE, printed on the glossiest of slick paper, tumbled from my copy of this morning’s Globe and Mail.

Another one of those self-congratulatory things that charities often publish after their big fund-raising balls, I thought. Lots of pictures of self-satisfied party-goers and triumphant organizers. Were they there to contribute to a good cause, to see and be seen, or just to indulge themselves?

When I looked more closely, I saw that this one was different. Edited by the foodie guru Sara Waxman, DINE seemed to be dedicated to excess in eating in all the most expensive food bordellos of the world, from Hong Kong to the Cayman Islands.

I don’t know if it was the idea of grossing out on vastly over-priced culinary delights, or ravishing the forests for the raw materials to produce this exhibitionist excess, that troubles me the most.

As I leafed through this temple of gross, my initial distaste turning rapidly to revulsion, I wondered what it is that motivates anyone to admit they would be part of this kind of lifestyle.

Yes, the rich we will always have with us, and we must allow them their small amusements. But for over a century now, we’ve had ample evidence of the culture of ostentation, first pronounced on by the classical economist Thorstein Veblen. In the interests of conspicuous consumption, he wrote, they pursue “the latest properties of dress, furniture, and equipage; of games, sports, and fancy-bred animals, such as dogs and race-horses.”

In North America today, the richest one per cent posssess more wealth than the bottom 99 per cent. When you’d think it would be in the interests of the rich to try to hide this fact, publications like DINE celebrate it.

I think what bothered me almost as much as the vulgarity of its purpose was the triteness of the writing in DINE.

Vancouver is about to “implode” (“collapse inward violently”) from an influx of Olympic visitors. The Okanagan has winemakers “pushing the envelope” to make wine that “really packs a punch.” The genetically-faulty Iberian pig has “made the cut” as “one of the world’s ultimate delicacies” and can now be bought in Toronto. A restaurant in Shanghai serves only “angry” fish.

The object of DINE, aside from garnering as many advertising dollars as can be coaxed from its mindless supporters, is obviously to idealize the life of the wealthy.

For all but a tiny proportion of the people who encounter this exhibition of conspicuous carnality, it does just the opposite. Perhaps for that, we should thank Sara Waxman and the Globe and Mail.