Quick: What’s the one thing you are sure Adam never said to Eve when they discussed the trouble between their two boys? “Eve, it wasn’t like this when we were kids.”
In every generation save the first, the expression, “It wasn’t like this when we were kids (or young, or in the old days)” has been a standard complaint. Yes, things change, but since they change repeatedly, the proverbial pendulum swings from one change back to a previous one.
In the eighteenth century Christopher Pinchbeck made an alloy of copper and zinc that looked like gold. Over the course of the ensuing decades, his alloy became associated with its creator. Pinchbeck was artificial gold used to make jewelry that the less fortunate, women of “slender means,” could afford: We call it costume jewelry.
As pinchbeck became popular among the lower classes, it drew the disdain of those who could afford real gold. High society in the nineteenth century frowned upon those who would adorn themselves in pinchbeck. Enter Mrs. Lucia Gilbert Calhoun, who introduced a series of articles in the London Saturday Review that was collected and published in 1868. The collection, entitled Modern Women and What Is Said of Them has a section devoted to pinchbeck.
As in all cases of “it wasn’t like this when we were young,” the section on pinchbeck decries the affinity “modern women” have for wearing such artificial gold. “Not many years ago no really refined gentlewoman would have worn pinchbeck… pinchbeck was considered as at once despicable and disreputable.” And then, the change: “We are in the humor to rehabilitate all things, and pinchbeck has now its turn with the rest.” Seems that the women of “slender means” have become fond of wearing pinchbeck. Now the point arrives before us: “The whole anxiety now is, not what a thing is, but how it looks—not its quality, but its appearance. Every part of social and domestic life is dedicated to the apotheosis of pinchbeck.”
Shocking! We have elevated pinchbeck. Copper and zinc replace real gold. What is this generation coming to? It wasn’t like this when we were kids. And in the view of Mrs. Lucia Gilbert Calhoun, pinchbeck symbolizes all artificiality, such as stucco columns substituting for marble ones and cheap champagne replacing the good stuff. You get the idea: Formica for granite countertops, Naugahyde for leather furniture, and pressed woodchips for walnut panels.
Appearance over quality. The complaint that every older generation makes about a younger one is no different from the complaint that those who wear pinchbeck have somehow lost the sense of quality. Is this just a pendulum’s swing? Or, rather, is there some underlying truth that plays out overtly in an age when we are daily exposed to the praise of appearance?
Tell me. Given a choice between two candidates for any position, such as a job or even a political office, do you favor pinchbeck or gold? In the arena of opinion, do you favor those of fashionable appearance or those of philosophical quality? In some instances, you might argue, either is as good as the other. In other instances, gold is actually better than artificial gold. If we can get past “it wasn’t like this when we were young,” we might be able to discern when the swing of the pendulum between appearance and quality actually makes a difference. Oh! To be Adam or Eve.
In every generation save the first, the expression, “It wasn’t like this when we were kids (or young, or in the old days)” has been a standard complaint. Yes, things change, but since they change repeatedly, the proverbial pendulum swings from one change back to a previous one.
In the eighteenth century Christopher Pinchbeck made an alloy of copper and zinc that looked like gold. Over the course of the ensuing decades, his alloy became associated with its creator. Pinchbeck was artificial gold used to make jewelry that the less fortunate, women of “slender means,” could afford: We call it costume jewelry.
As pinchbeck became popular among the lower classes, it drew the disdain of those who could afford real gold. High society in the nineteenth century frowned upon those who would adorn themselves in pinchbeck. Enter Mrs. Lucia Gilbert Calhoun, who introduced a series of articles in the London Saturday Review that was collected and published in 1868. The collection, entitled Modern Women and What Is Said of Them has a section devoted to pinchbeck.
As in all cases of “it wasn’t like this when we were young,” the section on pinchbeck decries the affinity “modern women” have for wearing such artificial gold. “Not many years ago no really refined gentlewoman would have worn pinchbeck… pinchbeck was considered as at once despicable and disreputable.” And then, the change: “We are in the humor to rehabilitate all things, and pinchbeck has now its turn with the rest.” Seems that the women of “slender means” have become fond of wearing pinchbeck. Now the point arrives before us: “The whole anxiety now is, not what a thing is, but how it looks—not its quality, but its appearance. Every part of social and domestic life is dedicated to the apotheosis of pinchbeck.”
Shocking! We have elevated pinchbeck. Copper and zinc replace real gold. What is this generation coming to? It wasn’t like this when we were kids. And in the view of Mrs. Lucia Gilbert Calhoun, pinchbeck symbolizes all artificiality, such as stucco columns substituting for marble ones and cheap champagne replacing the good stuff. You get the idea: Formica for granite countertops, Naugahyde for leather furniture, and pressed woodchips for walnut panels.
Appearance over quality. The complaint that every older generation makes about a younger one is no different from the complaint that those who wear pinchbeck have somehow lost the sense of quality. Is this just a pendulum’s swing? Or, rather, is there some underlying truth that plays out overtly in an age when we are daily exposed to the praise of appearance?
Tell me. Given a choice between two candidates for any position, such as a job or even a political office, do you favor pinchbeck or gold? In the arena of opinion, do you favor those of fashionable appearance or those of philosophical quality? In some instances, you might argue, either is as good as the other. In other instances, gold is actually better than artificial gold. If we can get past “it wasn’t like this when we were young,” we might be able to discern when the swing of the pendulum between appearance and quality actually makes a difference. Oh! To be Adam or Eve.
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