Obsolescence. That’s a concept in product design. Everything we buy has a shelf life, not just dairy products. Because of make and materiality, things wear out. Way back then, especially the generation that grew up with the war, things were used until they broke down. Then you threw it away and bought a new thing to replace what you could not use anymore. Maybe the new thing was better in some way, had more levers or a function the old one didn’t have, unless you liked the old thing so much that you bought it again.
My sister and I used the same celphone model for five years —the fat Nokia with the round keypad. I think it was the first phone to have a built-in video camera (which was really, really cool at that time). About a year or two into owning this phone, more models came out, with video cameras and mp3 players and Swiss army knives (okay, no Swiss army knives). Never mind that a vast majority of mobile phone users didn’t really need the software capabilities of a secret agent. These new celphones were skinny, slick, well-designed pieces of hardware that launched in well-dressed warehouse parties. They were cool, and three years into owning our phones, our fat Nokias with the round keypads were not so cool.
Some people would go to my sister and I (separately, of course) “Hey, why don’t you get a new phone?” My phone was fine, so was hers, and it irritated us no end. Since we seemed to get it from all sides, we came to this conclusion: our working phones had become obsolete because they were no longer cool. I remarked that maybe some people think of the celphone as a reflection of one's self, a status symbol of sorts —if my phone is cool, I am cool, too. To the contrary, I would like to think I have enough personality and I don’t need my celphone to define me.
When my celphone had reached the apex of its usability (stopped charging, died for no reason), I bought a new one. And it is pretty slick. Nonetheless, my sister and I still don’t understand why we should buy a phone when what we have works fine, and a lot of people don’t understand why we won’t buy something new just because it’s better. If I were to indulge the view that celphones are our selves, then I prefer to think of myself as my old phone —a bit worn, full of character that a lifetime spent living brings, uncommon, a little old-fashioned—you know—almost obsolete.
My sister and I used the same celphone model for five years —the fat Nokia with the round keypad. I think it was the first phone to have a built-in video camera (which was really, really cool at that time). About a year or two into owning this phone, more models came out, with video cameras and mp3 players and Swiss army knives (okay, no Swiss army knives). Never mind that a vast majority of mobile phone users didn’t really need the software capabilities of a secret agent. These new celphones were skinny, slick, well-designed pieces of hardware that launched in well-dressed warehouse parties. They were cool, and three years into owning our phones, our fat Nokias with the round keypads were not so cool.
Some people would go to my sister and I (separately, of course) “Hey, why don’t you get a new phone?” My phone was fine, so was hers, and it irritated us no end. Since we seemed to get it from all sides, we came to this conclusion: our working phones had become obsolete because they were no longer cool. I remarked that maybe some people think of the celphone as a reflection of one's self, a status symbol of sorts —if my phone is cool, I am cool, too. To the contrary, I would like to think I have enough personality and I don’t need my celphone to define me.
When my celphone had reached the apex of its usability (stopped charging, died for no reason), I bought a new one. And it is pretty slick. Nonetheless, my sister and I still don’t understand why we should buy a phone when what we have works fine, and a lot of people don’t understand why we won’t buy something new just because it’s better. If I were to indulge the view that celphones are our selves, then I prefer to think of myself as my old phone —a bit worn, full of character that a lifetime spent living brings, uncommon, a little old-fashioned—you know—almost obsolete.
1 comment:
since i lost my phone i thought about getting a new one...but then again...i'd rather stick with my mom's old but very reliable one...after all, what's the use of a new one if it's going to be stolen hehe =)
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