Marking Time
On wristwatches and luxury
Yesterday, a comedian friend and myself started talking about wristwatches, which turned into a conversation about the wristwatches famous comedians wear, which turned into a conversation about why people like us will never be able to afford the sorts of wristwatches famous comedians wear.
Which got me thinking about what constitutes luxury.
To be clear, I don’t wear a wristwatch. I have no interest in them. The only jewelry on my person is my wedding ring. When I leave my house, I often forget to lock the front door because I don’t have anything particularly worth stealing. My favorite possession is a used baby grand piano I bought during the pandemic. If piano thieves want to steal it, they are welcome to try.
My car is six years old and I have no plans to sell it or trade it in. As I write this, I’m wearing the nicest article of clothing I own, a used Gucci sports coat, which Martha encouraged me to buy even though it cost two hundred dollars.
Today I’m flying first-class to Austin, TX for some shows. Did I pay for the ticket? I did not. Would I pay for a first-class ticket? I would not.
Although I own a company, its only employee is myself, and I have no interest in spinning my little one-man operation into a media empire.
As much as it pains me to betray my Jewish heritage, I don’t care very much about money except insomuch as I would like to have enough of it to pay my bills and not be constantly freaking out about money. (I’m constantly freaking out about money.)
Here are the things in my life I value: my wife and kids, my health and the health of my loved ones, a home that feels like my home, the piano (which I am terrible at playing) and the 100 count boxes of Twinings English Breakfast tea that I occasionally reorder from Amazon.
That’s pretty much it.
I don’t understand these people who got into comedy with the intention of creating an empire. The Kevin Harts of the world, for example, who worked their way up to stardom and then parlayed that success into a media conglomerate. I admire the hell out of them, but I honestly don’t understand them. Kevin Hart, by the way, has one of the most amazing wristwatches I’ve ever seen.
There’s nothing wrong with entrepreneurship, of course, but it’s not for me. I don’t want to have meetings, I don’t want to have employees, I don’t want to have a goddamned HR department. The entire reason I got into show business to begin with was that so I wouldn’t have to deal with any of that shit. To me, that’s the opposite of living luxuriously. I think that would feel like living in a prison.
As Americans, we’re so conditioned to want more, more, MORE! The fastest car, the biggest boat, the privatest airplane. All of that has its place, I guess, but the notion that any of these things ought to be aspirational is ridiculous. Is a hundred dollar hamburger any more delicious than the one I grilled in my backyard?
Not if I’ve remembered to purchase those terrific potato rolls to go with it.
So why do so many of us - myself included at times - spend so much time and energy chasing the meaningless?
Everybody knows that the pursuit of money, power, and/or fame only leads to a greater pursuit of money, power, and/or fame. To what end? Why do so few of the world’s most successful people ever say, “You know what? I’ve got enough.”
What are they chasing?
Because, to me, the only possible end goal in this life is happiness. What is happiness? Quiet mornings with the kids. Snuggling in bed with my wife after a long day. Reading on the back porch listening to the rain. Hanging out with friends. Making fun stuff. Taking a walk.
These are life’s luxuries. At least, they’re my life’s luxuries.
In fairness, I’ve had a remarkable run of good fortune. I found some success in the career I chose for myself, I met a great partner, I’ve usually had at least a little bit more money than I need.
But I’ve also failed a lot. I’ve suffered the same tragedies as everybody else. Dealt with depression and anxiety and death and mangled relationships. But I’ve also learned that developing the fortitude to work through struggles is, itself, a kind of luxury.
Luxury, to my mind, isn’t acquisitive. It’s inquisitive. Reflection is a luxury. Compassion is a luxury. Recognizing beauty in all of its manifestations is a luxury. Luxury itself, however, is a necessity. Which is to say that our lives take on greater richness and meaning when we’re able to appreciate all that we experience. Life without luxury is drudgery, but all of us have access to luxury if we only take a moment to appreciate the joy that is our birthright.
I don’t have the watch. I don’t have the boat. On the return from Austin, I’m flying coach. But the airplane seat doesn’t matter. What matters is the journey and the home to which I’m returning. We all mark time in different ways. Some of us with a watch, some of us with memory. Some of us measure time by what we have, or by what we’ve lost. Some of us measure time by what we’ve done or what we have left to do. The best of us, I think (and I definitely do not include myself among these people although I wish I were) measure time by the moment, this moment and that, the pageantry of the present flowing into the ephemeral. It’s nothing at all. But, of course, it’s everything.
I feel bad buying expensive clothes and necessities at times, but that's because I like to support companies that don't steal from their employees and pass it to their shareholders/executive boards. But that in itself is a luxury that I have time and resources to find great products that don't promote more inequality.
Hardest part is to keep my bleeding heart from staining my fitted Todd Shelton shirts.
"We all mark time in different ways. Some of us with a watch, some of us with memory. Some of us measure time by what we have, or by what we’ve lost. Some of us measure time by what we’ve done or what we have left to do."
Very true. I must admit to be a watch nerd, although my collection is a far cry from the Kevin Harts of the world! I have many reasons for the obsession, ranging from a fascination with the mechanical engineering of them to their history and design language. What most resonates with me about watches is how they can be a physical reminder of special occasions, like the one gifted to me by my parents to celebrate finishing grad school; it is not an expensive one by the standards of most "luxury" watches, but it was a sacrifice for them, done out of love. Many of mine that I purchased for myself are dive watches and they got me inspired to actually get scuba-certified. When I am sitting at my desk on a rainy day and look down at one of them, I remember the time it accompanied me 50 feet underwater next to a school of hammerhead sharks, ticking away dutifully, and it makes me smile.