In The Theory of the Leisure Class (1899), Thorsten Veblen coined the phrase "conspicuous consumption" to refer to the practice of acquiring goods beyond what one needs for sustenance.  He referred to the acquisition of goods for purposes of show and status, a practice that was, at the time, affordable only by the wealthy, those whom he dubbed "the leisure class."  It was an extension of the idea of noblemen living in luxurious palaces, while the masses toiled in the fields and at hard labor to maintain a precarious livelihood.  (This is something of a simplification of Veblen's concept, but it captures the essence.)

After assigning my class an excerpt from Veblen's book, I presented them with the hypothesis that, in the century since it was written, conspicuous consumption has expanded to include many more people than those in Veblen's leisure class.  In the discussion that followed, I became aware that my students are conspicuous consumers without realizing that they are, that they have redefined the term "luxury" upward so that they consider what may be defined as luxuries to be necessities, that – although they are not wealthy and many work hard to make ends meet while simultaneously attending a community college to increase their prospects for more lucrative employment – they are already part of an expanded leisure class such as Veblen never imagined.

When I asked these students to cite examples of conspicuous consumption in today's culture, many immediately mentioned designer clothes, Nike sneakers, and the like.  However, even here they had reservations.  Perhaps, they suggested, these things represented a need, especially among young people.  They need to have designer clothes and Nike sneakers because they need to keep up with their peers who have these things.

As other examples emerged, so did other kinds of "need."  When one student mentioned a particular item as a symbol of conspicuous consumption, another would respond that she "needed" that item.  When the latter student was pressed to explain the "need," the response was always in terms of convenience or comfort, not in terms of something that was truly necessary for sustenance.  And so it went for virtually every example cited – an SUV, leather or heated seats in an automobile, air conditioning, a full-featured cell phone with text messaging capability.  Even a six-bedroom house for a four-person family was viewed as a need – the need for present comfort, for being prepared when and if the family expands to five, for an investment as security against the future.  It was virtually impossible to get these students to equate "need" with "that which is necessary for sustenance."

In such a context, one finds oneself wondering to what extent one's own values and lifestyle reflect this expansion of the word "need" to include comfort and convenience, not just for the present but extending far into the unforeseeable future.  A look around us will reveal how far we have gone toward translating what we don't really need into "needs."  We have a stove.  Do we "need" a microwave?  We have a sink.  Do we "need" a dishwasher and a washing machine?  We have a clothesline.  Do we "need" a dryer?  We have a TV set.  Do we "need" one with a 50-inch screen?  We have transportation.  Do we "need" an all-wheel-drive SUV capable of transporting our kids and some of their friends on an expedition into the wilderness and equipped with a DVD player and TV in the back seat to entertain them en route?

Our new definition of "need" demonstrates that many of us have indeed become members of the "leisure class" without being members of the most affluent and privileged stratum of society.  Mass production and advances in technology have made many products that would have been considered luxuries in bygone days (indeed, many products that didn't even exist then) affordable by huge segments of the population.  Many of us live in relative luxury without realizing it, going far beyond what we need for sustenance and including what we "need" for convenience and comfort – yet we consider these things to be necessities.

Is this conspicuous consumption?  No, in the strictest sense it is not, if it does not mean wastefulness (buying things we don't use or discarding things that fulfill our needs, just to make room for the latest model of the same thing).  Nor is it conspicuous consumption if our sole or primary reason for owning something is not ostentation (to show it off as a status symbol rather than to use it to fulfill some need).

However, it is worth recognizing that we are abusing our privileges as members of the new and expanded "leisure class" when we casually toss into the rubbish something that someone else could use, just so we can have the latest version of the same thing (which may or may not better fill our needs).  We are definitely abusing our privileges when we buy goods far beyond even our needs for comfort, convenience, or security, just to show that we are equal to or better than someone else.

In an affluent society, it is wise to step back, at least occasionally, and recognize how fortunate most of us are.  It is also wise to ponder the effect that our materialism (driven, in large part, by our marketing-oriented culture) has upon the way we live.  Whatever promotes our comfort and convenience in the short term may not be good for us in the long run, and some day history may judge us as waistrals whose conspicuous consumption and self-serving drive for comfort, convenience, and instant gratification brought about the downfall of the very civilization that we sought to preserve.