Dialogue: Easy come, easy go in today's society

By SANDY BURGHAM

Wandering through the Auckland War Memorial Museum last week, I found myself in an authentic recreation of a typical old garage with sewing machines, footstools, gadgets, toys and equipment all hanging, stacked and stashed under the optimistic premise of never knowing when these things might again be used.

The Bloke's shed is not only another freshly discovered and much-needed iconic symbol of what it means to be a New Zealander but also a poignant symbol of a time when the manufacturer, product and consumer love triangle was more enduring.

For those of us whose fathers had such garages, we remember when a person bought quality goods so they would last, possibly for generations. Sales people used to claim various items may indeed last forever, and we both needed and wanted this to be the case.

In today's disposable society there is no concept of buying things to last. We don't want to look at the same things in years to come. This takes the fun out of buying new stuff.

We are retail addicted. Although we despair at kids with their rooms full of played-with-once toys, we are programmed to chuck out and start afresh almost daily. On hard goods we readily accept, and encourage, best-before dates that run in months rather than years or decades.

My father is of the generation where he was conditioned to wear things out before a repurchase. From furniture to clothing, he has certainly got his money's worth over the years and I wonder how many new items of anything he has bought in his life compared with, say, my brother-in-law, who spilled food on his shirt so went out and bought a new one.

Remember those days when, if the kettle broke, you would fix it? These days everything is expected to last approximately five years. If it breaks, it's a great excuse to give ourselves a retail hit.

We have a relic of a video player which we took in for a repair-assessment in a secret hope there was a strong case for video euthanasia, allowing us to go shopping for a new one. I was somewhat disappointed to hear that, if aesthetics were not an issue for us, this electronic fossil was as indestructible as the Terminator. In fact, with regular servicing it would outlast most of our more contemporary appliances and could possibly become an heirloom.

Our appetite for the latest and greatest computer system is not only absurd but vaguely irresponsible as the use-by date is past almost as soon as you walk out of the store. Somewhere we have a vague notion of an environmental meltdown as the stockpiles of not-modern-enough computers increase in size every minute, but our need to be up with the play is far greater than our concern about whether the computer graveyard has any vacancies.

The attitude to cellphones is almost outrageous. We place such little value in the hardware. Any hint of problems and it's a trip to the retailer to buy a new one. Many people can't even wait for their cellphone contract to run out, buying out of it early so they can get their hands on the latest phone toy.

This easy-come, easy-go attitude makes me wonder what sort of items we do place real value in. What material goods might we bother stashing for possible reincarnation in the future? The answer would certainly not be cars. A car is the second-most expensive item that most of us venture to buy, yet we also assume they are not built to last.

In the museum shed, all the bits and pieces frame a mint-condition Morris Minor that probably we would all love to own. It's ironic that although the car industry is embracing retro design, so grows the trend of car fanatics embracing classic vehicles. I am an accidental silent investor in an old car restoration project - my husband's labour of love that gobbles up his time and our money.

But as each function is reworked, repaired and revitalised and the 60s American automotive dream takes shape before my eyes, even I, the reluctant supporter, can't help but admire not only the craftsmanship but the integrity of the designers in their bid to create a vehicle which would warrant restoration some 40 years on.

I imagine the garage of our son in years to come and wonder which items from today's modern household he might have hanging from his rafters, and which car from this period he might want to restore.