I’ve purposely abandoned what I anticipated to be my next posting in this series because of current events and the reader response to my previous post’”especially the concept of frugality veiling. I described that as that attempt to appear virtuous by balancing our luxury purchases with seemingly frugal (and futile) gestures. I was delighted that readers identified with that. I’m anticipating you might also identify with the following.

I’ll not so secretly admit to all of you that I’ve always been amused by the whole concept of schadenfreude, which is a German word the describes the delight one feels when witnessing another person’s misfortune.   Wikipedia defines it as ‘œlargely anticipated delight in the suffering of another which is cognized as trivial and/or appropriate.’ Usually I experience it when someone I don’t like slips and falls in an especially awkward way. I try not to smile’”at least visibly. Recently, the whole concept has new relevance and meaning.

You see, my partner, Jay, has been anticipating this for years. While, I made fun of the financial disaster library he created over the past few years with all the books he was reading on deflation and market downturns, I listened to him (he who reads everything like a little information processing machine). He’s in the industry; I’m not. And even I could understand the link between demographics, over-speculation and over-leveraging. I embraced his opinion. I even decorated a room in the country house to accommodate his financial disaster library: the Bear Room (cute, right?). Our friends, though, were strangely closed to his opinions.

Hey, I understand not agreeing. I just don’t understand not listening’”especially to someone successful, someone who has degrees in economics, works in the finance industry, has paid off his mortgage and has enough money in the bank to retire comfortably in his 40s. I understand people not listening to me. I purposely say dumb, obtuse things just to be funny or to get a reaction. I play the frivolous spouse and talk more about spending money than making it. But why weren’t people taking what Jay was saying seriously? He’s smart. I didn’t get it, and it kind of ticked me off.

So we listened to people talk about borrowing against their home’s equity to buy luxury properties in the Hamptons. They said things like ‘œreal estate never goes down.’ We watched them pour more money into the market while Jay moved money into cash and bonds. And we just politely demurred when people acted like we weren’t as sophisticated as they were. We felt a little bit like the ant and the grasshopper (remember that fable?).

Then it happened. Now I’m feeling that Joe is vindicated. I’ll admit it; I’m experiencing some schadenfreude. It’s borne of a defensive feeling on behalf of Jay. Sure, I can’t watch my favorite morning talk show anymore. We now have to watch financial programs in the morning before Jay goes to work. I think we were always supposed to do that, but Jay has new credibility (and privileges).

My financial schadenfreude is reserved for acquaintances that can easily afford to weather the current financial situation’”the former know-it-all financial masters of the universe. They’ll be o.k. Maybe they won’t go to St. Barths this year. Maybe they’ll get the 3 series rather than the 6. They’ll put off buying their third home. They’ve slipped on the financial slippery sidewalk but will brush themselves off and continue walking.

Then there are the others, and there’s no schadenfreude for them. None. It is genuine concern. I see that they are genuinely struggling to make ends meet through no fault of their own. I see how hard they’ve worked, and it just doesn’t seem fair. It’s heartbreaking. So while I don’t want the new president to lump the top five percent into one big group to be treated the same (because I truly believe there’s a difference between people making $250,000 and $2,500,000 and $250,000,000), I understand the need to pay more taxes. I want the fortunate to help the less fortunate. It just seems right. It always has, just more so now.

So what else? It’s made me think about my priorities and what’s really important. I give more thought about what we can afford to give to the non-profit sector. That’s a big one for me. Then there are the little things. I don’t suggest lunch and shopping to friends I know are watching their budgets. I have people over for dinner rather than suggesting a restaurant. I tip cab drivers and waiters a lot more. I don’t talk about our discretionary purchases.

That’s   gotten me to think about how a lot of people in our community talk about ‘œthings.’ I’ll venture my opinion that gay men tend to do this more than the women I know. So much in our community has to do with appearance. From New York to L.A. there’s such attention to ‘œwho’ someone is wearing. I’ve always rationalized this behavior in myself because I grew up in Sears Toughskins and not Levi’s, and it helped my feeling of being different. Designer apparel and luxury trappings were armor for my ego, but also a recognition of quality, a reflection of my increasing sophistication and financial position. I rationalized it. I joked about it. I convinced myself that I didn’t take it too seriously. Now, though, I feel I must rethink all that, and I don’t think that I’m alone.

Luxury may not necessarily be going underground, but it’s certainly less conspicuous and more selective. A recent magazine article mentioned that logos are becoming more discrete on luxury goods. I don’t delude myself that I’m going to stop wanting nice things I can afford. I’ll always be a bit like a crow in a field of shiny, sparkling objects. I just anticipate that my consumption will become much less conspicuous. I certainly won’t be gallivanting about in head-to-toe designer labels. I will be tempered by the responsibility I feel to recognize that I am fortunate. In the end, perhaps the current financial situation will have simply accelerated my own evolution towards something better and more balanced.

Photo credit: stock.xchng.