I knew a chemical biologist. He came from a wealthy family in South Africa. He was in the States on a two-year research visa. He always smelled good. I'm guessing that's because his diet consisted entirely of macrobiotic foods. He didn't have a washer and dryer. Maybe the investment wasn't worth it since his residence was temporary. Instead of going to a laundromat, he washed everything by hand. His hands were strong. His clothes were clean. I think he fancied himself as a samurai; he practiced a stringent regiment of martial arts. He said he could easily and quickly increase his wealth with his stock investments. But...he chose not to. His boast wasn’t in the wealth, it was the self-discipline. Commoners were something to be sampled and rationed. A night out at a local tavern to down a few beers, sure. But a trip to the laundromat, nah. There's more integrity in scrubbing your knuckles together, with the added benefit of avoiding the public.
Ten years earlier, my best bud got married to a Japanese fella who was going to school at a local state University. The house they lived in and all their expenses were paid for by his father in Japan. Although the house was modest, modern and comfortable, and while it was fully equipped with a washer and dryer, my buddy chose to get a scrubbing board. She immersed herself in the housewife role. It was a mighty deep role to fill, as traditional Japanese expect much of women. And while young hubby idolized Marx, he was a traditionalist. A few years later, they divorced and she went back to the machines for clean clothes. She was too feminist for alimony. Oh, the things we told ourselves when we were in our twenties.
Maybe there's a Japanese theme with these two people, a decade apart. I'm not sure but if it's not coincidental, it's incidental. I'm thinking folks "with money" like this do, on strategic occasion, mingle with the working class and tell themselves they aren’t cocooned. Or maybe they know they are - but at least they aren’t free-falling like the rest of humanity. It’s a controlled glide. On a whim they manufacture hardship. They have the curious choice of whether or not to dip into a stoic lifestyle. I guess it's possible for working grunts to romanticize manual labor too -- at least while they are in a position to reject it. The top rung of maslow's heap becomes a recurring skit of the bottom rungs for these dabblers.
Yeah, I've got a stack washer/dryer in a closet of my home. I am reminded of the wealthy and their hand-washed clothes as I'm looking at the toilet. I've got choices too. Should I call the plumber now or see if I can get by until next paycheck?