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In the years between the turn of the century and the outbreak of World War I, business directories listed four commercial piano storefronts in Kraków and an even more impressive nine in Lwów, though the actual number was even higher. Additionally, each of the cities boasted multiple local piano factories. The presence of these factories and storefronts indicates an established market for the buying and selling of pianos in the two major urban centers of Austrian Galicia in the years prior to the war. While piano advertising continued both during and after the war, this was not necessarily an indicator of a lack of change. The instability and increasing inflation of the period served as a catalyst, forcing some owners to sell their pianos, while other citizens may have had the opportunity to capitalize on the economic situation, buying these status symbols for their households. The persistence of private piano classified advertisements for those hoping to buy and sell pianos throughout the war years was a symptom of social and cultural change within the middle class in urban Galicia. This article situates the dynamics of the region’s persistent piano marketplace alongside contemporary socio-political and economic trends to highlight an important indicator of social mobility amidst the widespread impact of World War I.
Department stores have served as significant commercial and cultural institutions, transforming retail systems, consumption patterns, and people’s tastes in many countries since the late 1840s, when the first department store emerged in Paris. However, the adaptation of their business models and influence varied depending on social contexts. This article examines Japanese department stores from the 1900s to the 1930s, focusing on the role of restaurants within these establishments. Department store restaurants not only redefined the customer experience through innovative food services but also played a crucial role in reshaping the business itself. Central to this transformation were the waitresses, often referred to as “restaurant girls,” whose emotional labor became integral to the department store’s operations. Their work introduced the incorporation of personality into business management, highlighting how the performance of personality—both gendered and productive—was leveraged in the modern commercial world.
This article traces the early origins of Black consumer culture as it was portrayed in the Black press from the late 1800s to the early 1920s. It argues that Black newspapers were important agents in shaping how African Americans conceived of and interacted with the evolving commercial sphere around the turn of the century. Papers such as the Pittsburgh Courier, the Broad Ax, the Tulsa Star, and many others celebrated participation in the consumer arena as a respectable and desired practice. They also distinguished between shopping, as a social feminine pursuit, and patronizing Black-owned businesses, which was perceived as a gender-neutral, or even manly, racial duty. Espousing African American elite ideologies such as racial uplift and self-help, Black editors presented any purchasing of goods as an upright activity, which adorned its performer with affluence, respect, and power. Such portrayal encouraged the participation of African Americans in the consumer sphere and implied that it was an arena of similarity rather than difference.
In the late nineteenth-century United States, kerosene became a universal illuminant for artificial lighting, providing its users with a shared material environment. While kerosene users employed the fluid not only for lighting but also for washing, cooking, and cleaning, they had to deal with the material’s risks, such as fires and explosions. With the help of chemists and domestic advisors, American consumers adapted to this ambivalent material condition, weaving kerosene into their economic life and social thought. In so doing, some consumers identified as a “professional class” that navigated within this material environment through their own expertise—which paralleled their economic struggle within a rapidly growing but volatile political economy during the Gilded Age. As Standard Oil’s monopolization of the kerosene business became a substantial issue in national politics, this social consciousness among kerosene users attracted anti-monopolists like Ida Tarbell. Because Standard Oil had lowered the consumer price, these reformers sought an alternative rationale to persuade kerosene-consuming households to participate in the antitrust movement against the company. Examining how these progressive reformers turned kerosene consumers’ social identity to their political ends, this article sheds new light on the relationship between the energy transition, consumer culture, and American capitalism.
This article brings agency to discussions on financialization and financial education in Sweden by zooming in on two barely examined actors and arenas: civil society and public schools, respectively. The civil society organization Aktiespararna (Swedish Shareholders’ Association, founded in 1966) attempted to access and impact school education starting with its launch of youth efforts in the 1980s. Aktiespararna was joined in these efforts by Unga Aktiesparare (Swedish Young Shareholders’ Association), founded in 1990. This study describes the organizational strategies—tools, techniques, and discursive approaches—to reach Swedish upper-secondary school students. The result shows a crucial transition on how young Swedes were expected to relate to investing in stocks: from a special interest to pursue as either side activity or profession, to an inevitable part of everyday consumer life. The Swedish example is especially illuminating because it is general in its overall development from welfare state to market orientation. Yet, it emerges as distinctive in its pace and character. Apart from the apparent brisk, straightforward march from social-democratic hegemony, and one of the most regulated national economies in the mid-1900s, to a highly marketized and financialized society in the 2000s, Sweden holds a sociocultural history of strong popular movements and civil society associations. The article demonstrates important links between this aspect of collective engagement for individual progress and the financialization process.
In grand hotels, the classes and nations mixed in higher concentrations than anywhere else in the city. Grand hotels offered spaces for the elite exercise of freedom but under the necessary conditions of staff surveillance and mutual policing on the part of the guests. Interclass equilibrium rested on the existence of a strict, intricate hierarchy for workers and unspoken norms of dress and comportment for guests. Grand hoteliers had to keep their properties free from conflict, after all, and this they accomplished with recourse to a liberal balance of freedom and control. The arrangement lasted until August 1914, when everyone – guests, white-collar employees, managers, workers, owners – went to war. Then, and all of a sudden, violence erupted in grand hotel lobbies. In one blow, World War I shattered the liberal ideal upon which Berlin’s grand hotels were founded. That ideal, dependent upon an equilibrium supported by little more than architecture, regulation, and unspoken rules, had serious weaknesses, it turned out.
Luchino Visconti is widely recognised as a high-culture director. However, in his films of the period 1943–63 there was a firm engagement with consumer culture and modernity in terms of themes, characters and references. This article explores this often overlooked dimension in Visconti's films by analysing a number of key sequences and moments that relate directly to consumption, consumer culture, leisure, modernity, Americanisation and youth culture. The analysis shows how these representations related to the ongoing changes in Italian postwar society and to incoming Americanisation in particular. My research is informed by the work of Gary Cross, Victoria De Grazia and Emanuela Scarpellini on consumer culture and contextualises how Visconti's referencing of consumer culture and modernity was received by the PCI (Partito Comunista Italiano or Italian Communist Party).
Alongside the grand scheme of deodorization, the arrival of a variety of mass-manufactured scents instigated an olfactory revolution in everyday life, feeding new sensory data into Chinese bodies and neurons. Drawing on trade statistics, advertisements, and corporate archives, Chapter 4 restores the materiality of the changing smellscape, exploring both imported scents and domestically produced perfumes, with special attention to state-of-the-art synthetic scents that invaded and contaminated the sensorium. Equipped with industrialism, capitalism, consumerism, science, and nationalism, this revolution’s key battlefield was none other than the human body. The regulation and management of its odours were intended to transform the body into a consumer object. The thrust of my inquiry is the question of how the united forces of olfactory modernity tuned neurons to accept new scents, and how the body was re-educated to internalize a new set of codes, values, and aesthetics.
This chapter examines the relationship between excess and the ways that Romantic novels were envisioned as in – or out of – fashion. As industrial production ramped up in the early nineteenth century, supplying consumers with mass-produced luxuries of all types, so too was the popular novel conceptualized as a consumer good, an object to buy and display as much as a text to read. The chapter begins with Maria Edgeworth’s Belinda, analysing the novel’s focus on fashion, advertising, work, and value. Moving forward to the 1810s, it then discusses several novels by Minerva author ‘Miss Byron’, among others, to demonstrate how authors used the idea of fashion to defend the novel and make visible the often-ignored labour of its authors. The excesses of overspending consumers become a metaphor for the glut of the literary market, while the notion of luxury as always created by someone’s work – but also as essentially commodified and interchangeable – implicates the novel in a commercial system that challenges the hierarchies of strictly literary valuations.
This article investigates the international genre of “retro” and how it is used in Hungary to re-matter the nation’s modern past, repositioning the country within a twentieth-century European history where it was never cut off by an “Iron Curtain” from the modern West. It does this by selecting for modern consumer goods and popular culture from both East and West that fit international criteria for retro. For both young and old, retro “matters” the past in a way that affirms contemporary market sensibilities, infusing it with value through assertions of market equivalence in the past and new value as commodities in the present. If Hungarian Retro works as a form of nostalgia for some, it is for an era of perceived national prestige, value, and economic sovereignty relative to the demoralized present. While distinct from right-wing nationalist politics, Hungarian Retro nonetheless shares in the project of erasing a stigmatized state socialism from national history. This article builds on scholarship on the role of the material in producing the nation in everyday life. It contributes a perspective that brings together: (a) the domestication of international commercial and popular trends; (b) the global hierarchy of prestige based on national exports and imports; and (c) the constitution of value in citizens via the qualities of consumer goods both produced and consumed.
The front matter to “Cities of the World Ocean,” the second of three parts of Earthopolis: A Biography of Our Urban Plane, recounts the founding of Villa Navidad (“Christmas City”), the first European settlement in the Americas by Christopher Columbus and the Taino people, using wooden planks salvaged from the shipwrecked Santa Maria. The story serves to introduce the importance of humanity’s use of solar energy delivered by the winds and currents of the World Ocean to dramatically expand and merge all of Earth’s urban worlds into Earthopolis, a truly planetary Urban Planet for the first time. This development, a hinge between pre-modern and modern eras, rested on state violence delivered worldwide against city walls by gunpowder cannon; on the theft of massive amounts of land, labor, and wealth involved in the birth of global capitalism; and on the globalization of religious and secular knowledges and consumer culture that had impacts on the natural environment worldwide, including the World Ocean itself.
Chapter 23 of Earthopolis: A Biography of Our Urban Planet is the third in a four-part exploration of the Greatest Acceleration from 1945 to the present. Its focus is on spaces of consumption and production, the ocean hopping “value chains” that connect shops with factories, and the growing role of virtual spaces in the global spread of those environments. The proliferation of massive shopping malls, the attraction of urban land, and the global tourist industry are all pieces of this part of the Greatest Acceleration. To produce the goods and increasingly the “experiences” that elicit these desires, manufacturing spaces have exploded in size, notably in East Asia, even as they have declined in many of the “Global North” urban heartlands of the industrial revolution. The chapter visits the largest factory in the world in Shenzhen, China and smaller sweatshops. It also notes that a majority of workers in the global economy do unsung work such as urban transport, construction, and household good sales that makes the growth of cities (and tourist experiences) possible, and in care work in homes, essential to making all other work possible.
This chapter considers how Britain’s developmental, retail-oriented models of planning played out in individual cities across the 1940s and 1950s. It shows that many councils viewed planning as a tool of proactive economic management and enthusiastically bent their powers to the task of promoting valuable new retail development. These activities coincided with a spectacular shops boom in most cities as large retail chains reaped the benefits of full employment and rising wages to embark on major programmes of shop-building and expansion. Councils and retail chains worked in tandem to erect huge new stores all over the country and refit urban centres for the affluent age. At times urban authorities even played the part of commercial developer themselves by putting up shops and collecting business rents. I relate these practices to councils’ energetic pre-war activities in the field of municipal enterprise and show that post-war planning powers offered a new outlet for these long-standing traditions of civic entrepreneurship. The chapter also shows how central government promoted the nascent commercial property sector in British redevelopment from the 1950s.
Seventeenth-century Chinese literature thematizes market segmentation, the idea that functionally similar but different objects can be produced for and marketed to different ranks of people. A 1671 collection of classical essays, Xianqing ouji 閑情偶寄 by Li Yu 李漁 (1611–80), has generally been understood to be the most influential of lifestyle guides, containing essays about the theater, everyday life, and material culture. This article argues that price and quality differentiation when it comes to a variety of consumer goods forms a central organizing principle for the volume and provides a prism through which Xianqing ouji discusses social inequity and hierarchy.
This broadly conceived introduction discusses recent approaches to the history of capitalism in the United States and Germany and relates them to the findings of economic and business historians of the Weimar Republic and the Third Reich. It identifies four key tensions between the prominence of Kapitalismuskritik and the tacit spread of capitalist practices and attitudes; a focus on capitalism’s concentrated and organized character and the experience of its bewildering complexity; state intervention and the dynamics of the market; and a national framework of viewing the economy and capitalism’s transnational entanglements. The overarching argument is that Nazism became attractive not least for promising to resolve these tensions. It professed to transcend capitalism while harnessing its energies for a racist and imperialist agenda. These and other aspects are treated in the volume’s four sections on debating, concealing, promoting, and racializing German capitalism between 1918 and 1945.
In Weimar and Nazi Germany, capitalism was hotly contested, discreetly practiced, and politically regulated. This volume shows how it adapted to fit a nation undergoing drastic changes following World War I. Through wide-ranging cultural histories, a transatlantic cast of historians probes the ways contemporaries debated, concealed, promoted, and racialized capitalism. They show how bankers and industrialists, storeowners and commercial designers, intellectuals and politicians reshaped a controversial economic order at a time of fundamental uncertainty and drastic rupture. The book thus sheds fresh light on the strategies used by Hitler and his followers to gain and maintain widespread support. The authors conclude that National Socialism succeeded in mobilizing capitalism's energies while at the same time claiming to have overcome a system they identified with pernicious Jewish influences. In so doing, the volume also speaks to the broader issue of how capitalism can adapt to new times.
This chapter considers how Edward Payson Roe’s Barriers Burned Away – the first novel set in Chicago that dealt with the city as an urban environment rather than as a frontier settlement – examined topics that would become part of the Chicago literary tradition. These include the moral implications of a market economy that enriched some but left others in poverty, the role of conspicuous consumption in defining the city’s social hierarchy, and the question of whether those who arrived in the city in search of success could make a place for themselves without sacrificing their principles.
Miami Beach was the nation’s premier winter resort between the 1930s and the 1950s. The city attracted a diverse crowd of visitors, some interested in a peaceful respite from the frigid north, others drawn by the drinking, dancing, and musical entertainment offered by its many bars and nightclubs. As part of an elaborate effort to sustain the city’s lively symbiotic urban leisure-services economy, the Miami Beach City Council addressed three types of market failures: chaotic competition, interproducer conflicts, and monopolistic business practices. This article demonstrates how these practices expressed a coherent vernacular philosophy of regulated capitalism arising from the city’s identity as a collective economic enterprise.
From the late 1870s Ibsen’s international fame started growing. His plays triggered debates and controversies, and the press followed him closely. His work generated immense public interest, as did his person and personal life, and by 1890 he was firmly established as a European literary celebrity. Nineteenth-century celebrities were – like modern celebrities – first and foremost media personalities. Their fame was promoted and maintained by newspapers, periodicals and magazines and, importantly, by new visual techniques like lithography and photography. This chapter describes how an iconic Ibsen was constructed in cartes de visite and cabinet cards produced in European photo studios during the latter part of the nineteenth century. As Ibsen’s fame grew, his portrait photos, originally meant for promotional use, entered the public sphere and began a life of their own. Eventually, they became collectors’ items to be kept in elaborate albums. After sketching the construction of the icon, the chapter traces its circulation in popular visual culture around 1900. Within the emerging consumer culture, portraits of Ibsen – like those of other celebrities – were printed on postcards and trade cards and used to promote a range of luxury commodities.
During the late colonial period, as successive waves of decolonisation swept regions from Ireland in the 1910s to the Pacific islands in the 1970s, a number of writers took inspiration from the cultures of colonial port cities, where they reflected critically on the ideals inscribed into their architectural landscapes. This introductory chapter outlines the historical connections between colonial urbanism and modernist fiction, introducing key theoretical ideas and outlining the comparative method.